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my parents stopped at a little chef once, and in one of the few mindmelds between them and me when i was growing up, we immediateky walked back out again. (my sister wanted to stay though!)
― lexpretend (lexpretend), Wednesday, 3 January 2007 20:03 (seventeen years ago) link
another memory: me and my mates goonar and cookie driving to york to look at the university (that's what we told our head of sixth form)/fuck about for a day. cookie was one of the first in the year to pass his driving test, having taken one of those one-week intensive courses; he was driving his sister's re-registered 1978 fiesta. this would have been, what, 1992: the only tape in the car was "nevermind". you can get very sick of "nevermind". i think that was when me and nirvana parted ways.
anyway, we chug from blackpool to york, look at the university for three seconds, fuck about, buy cigs, have a sneaky pint, then head back. on the way home we stop at a little chef somewhere; can't remember where.
i have a toasted teacake and a cup of tea. goonar has a pancake and some coffee. cookie orders fish, chips, peas, bread and tea, followed by some kind of fudge dessert with fake cream.
back in the car, goonar asks: "so, you off out tonight, cookie? that why you're having an early tea?"
"naah," he burps. "i'm off home for me dinner."
happy days.
― grimly fiendish (simon), Wednesday, 3 January 2007 20:14 (seventeen years ago) link
I have very mixed feelings about them. I've been to some that were fine. One at Tyndrum I seem to remember was pretty good. If you stuck with fry-ups you were usually OK. The Olympic Breakfast! But some were totally appalling. If the floor was sticky underfoot that was usually a bad sign.
― Ned T.Rifle (Ned T.Rifle), Wednesday, 3 January 2007 20:44 (seventeen years ago) link