OK, going OT a bit as it's nowhere near a race track, but...
A couple of years ago, I'd driven over to east Yorkshire to look at a rally-prepared Escort Mk1 on behalf of a customer. My wife came with me and we decided to take the scenic route home rather than yawning along the M62 for a couple of hours.
We decided that we'd look for somewhere to stop and get something to eat on the way back, but we didn't see anything before we headed out onto the moors... So, by the time we came down the other side towards Manchester, we were starving, and in the first village we came to, we spotted this little roadside cafe that was open, so we parked up and gave it a go.
The wife duly ordered a veggie breakfast, even though it was about two in the afternoon by now, and I decided to go for the 'all day big breakfast'. Well, the lady serving us, who was quite a bucksome sort, gave me a look up and down, and said, quite politely, 'Are you sure, love? It
is a very big breakfast!'
Now, at this point, I should add that I'm a pretty slim type and obviously must look like the type who clearly
doesn't live on big fry-ups, hence the lady bringing into question my ability to cope with it.
But, no, I assured her, it'll be fine, and we sat at a table to await our food. Well, my wife's arrived first, and it looked just fine to me, so I looked forward to the imminent arrival of my own, to be greeted, seconds later, by a plate the size of a dustbin lid (for those readers too young to remember dustbin lids - just think: big!) piled impossibly high with eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, fried bread, hash browns, you name it. I looked at it and, as famished as I was, thought to myself 'Jesus, maybe she was right after all!'.
But before that thought had been fully assimilated, the lady turned, and said very matter-of-factly, 'I'll just go and get your toast, love', and returned seconds later with half a loaf of toasted white bread and tubs of butter & jam!
OH MY GOD! What have I done? Well, the gauntlet had been well and truly thrown down, and I wasn't about to be beaten. Unbelievably, I did make my way through the lot (if I'm being totally honest, I seem to remember SWMBO helped me out by taking one slice of toast - hardly significant, all things considered!), although it left me anchored to the spot and unable to eat again for what I felt sure would be several days, at the very least.
And the cost of this veritable feast? Twenty quid would have seemed fair enough, but no. A tenner was an absolute steal, but no. A fiver. Five little English pounds to feed the five thousand. Surely the greatest breakfast bargain mankind has ever known? And not only was there lots of it, but it was fresh and extremely tasty.
There ought to have been a queue around the block to get in the door...
Oooh... I'm hungry now!
