2/5 Patten S. 6 months ago on Google
Before
I
open
I
wish
it
to
be
known
by
whosoever
chooses
to
read
the
enclosed
that
I
truly
wanted
to
enjoy
The
King’s
Head
in
Little
Marlow
and
it
is
with
a
heavy
heart
that
I
turn
to
pen
these
sombre
words.
On
an
inclement
afternoon
one
late
October
day
our
motley
cast
of
wet
and
weary
walkers
darkened
the
door
of
this
establishment
in
search
of
ale
and
board.
The
staff
were
welcoming
and
friendly,
and
the
setting
charmingly
anachronistic.
I
regret
to
inform
you,
dear
reader,
that
this
is
where
the
virtues
ended.
What
was
to
follow
was
sadly
nothing
short
of
a
barbarically
overpriced
roast
dinner.
The
beef,
so
often
tender
and
flavoursome,
was
closer
to
the
sole
of
a
shoe
cooked
within
an
inch
of
its
life.
The
Yorkshire,
which
on
another
day
may
have
risen
to
fluffy
heights,
was
all
but
as
flat
as
a
pancake
and
regrettably
charred.
The
boiled
vegetables
lacked
flavour,
and
those
few
roast
parsnips
and
carrots
that
were
provided
were
almost
raw.
A
glimmer
of
hope
persisted
in
the
form
of
roast
potatoes,
however
the
meagre
portion
(just
three
small
roasties
on
my
plate)
made
this
brief
deliverance
all
too
fleeting.
The
price
totals
twenty
five
pounds
if
one
opts
to
include
cauliflower
cheese
(an
option
that
I
cannot
in
good
faith
endorse).
I
am
sad
to
say
that
the
quantity
and
mediocrity
of
the
food
does
not
come
near
to
justifying
this
rate.
If
such
a
princely
sum
is
demanded
then
the
standard
of
the
product
must
increase
drastically.
By
all
means,
come
to
The
King’s
Head,
enjoy
an
ale
and
dawdle
for
a
moment
in
its
antique
corridors.
Think
of
those
lives
that
have
come
before,
the
feet
that
have
trodden
its
floors
and
the
deals
struck
in
the
dark
conspiratorial
corners
of
this
bygone
tavern.
But,
my
friend,
please
do
not
order
the
roast.
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