A cold afternoon in Farnham.
A heron catches my eye as I walk along the riverside walk.
From Gostey Meadow I cut through alleyways to Castle Street.
Soup, maybe something savoury, a cheese and tomato bread roll, in Gail’s artisan bakery.
No bread rolls, I settle for the carrot soup, carrot and ginger.
Service has been appalling in Gail’s ever since it opened sometime last summer, today no exception. Rarely see the same staff twice though individual members of staff try their best and are always polite.
First find a clean table. Tables piled with dirty dishes. I find one that does not have dirty dishes, but it is not clean.
My soup comes, or what jokingly is called soup arrives. A few spoonfuls of puree carrots, bowl filled with cubes of soggy bread, is not soup.
I use the serviette to rest my phone on, as I did not wish to rest on the dirty sticky table.
I have to ask for butter, then ask for a knife.
Waitress walks by, looks at the disgusting soup, stops and asks is it ok? I say no, it is disgusting. She offers to do something, I am not sure what, I say no.
During the summer, one thing that could be relied upon at Gail’s, when available, was the soup.
The coffee is awful, they are using Union, and not doing Union any favours.
I leave for Krema, where I know I will at least get a decent cup of coffee.
