What's in a name?

Friday evening. Dark. Hereford city centre. Hmmmmm.

Tired. Legs aching. Long day, preceded by bad night. Dying for a drink. And a good meal. For once money no problem (thanks to Premium Bonds).

Let's dive up this alley, there's a light. Ah, it's called The Stewing Pot. Images of Women's Institute food. Walk on.

Oh look, here's a pub, they'll be able to tell us where to go?
Certainly, try The Left Bank just over there.

It's all steel doors, like Star Trek, and Best Western stylee. No thanks!

Walk on some more. Really tired now.

Here's somewhere. Charlottes. Very busy. Good sign. We'll ask.

Sorry Guys, no chance of eating. Where can you go? Hmm, Left Bank used to be OK but has gone down hill (phew!). No, I'm afraid with them and us, that's it. Your best bet is ASK. Have a nice evening guys.

One of us is female. At this juncture (such an underused word) I'd like you to know this.

The mere thought of ASK makes me feel ill.

We look at each other. I proffer: if it has a license let's try it.

We return. It does. We are welcomed in. The seats are still warm. Our luck was very much in. The couple who showed up five minutes later were turned away.

They don't know what they missed. Or maybe they do. Lousy name, absolutely superb restaurant. Fantastic, professional service and some of the best food I have eaten for many a long year.

Booking highly recommended.

We walked back to the hotel. No longer tired, but superbly fed, brilliantly wined and all aches and pains long forgotten.

My, but can't a good restaurant really make the day?

I hope this hunt for antiques takes us to many more happy evenings like this. I doubt any will be as good.