England in August

Many years ago Janis and I were staying in a Gite between the French towns of Richlieu and Chinon, it's the holiday where my story of oysters for breakfast and Francois Mitterand comes from. Anyway on the penultimate day of our holiday we went out for a drive and discovered a tiny restaurant about ten minutes away down one of those winding single track roads only a British male would attempt at navigating. The road opened up into this rustic square, flanked on all four sides by typical architecture of both French peasants and the area. The first building on the right had a sign outside which simply said "Restaurant."

We walked in and no sooner had we worked out which room was the restaurant and which was a store then we were met by the owner who showed us to a table and then disappeared from view.  He returned about five minutes later with two complimentary glasses of red wine and disappeared again. A couple of minutes after that, again without any great conversation, came a plate of hors d'oeuvres, he then followed that with the biggest side of beef I have ever seen - I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't like beef! Anyway we were treated like royalty, he was so proud of being able to show us his cooking skills and his hospitality in a restaurant in the middle of nowhere and to add to the sense of occasion the walls of the place were covered with posters of Liverpool F.C.

Yesterday the spirit of that day was revisted when we went for lunch at Sopley Mill in Hampshire. According to one website  "Sopley Mill is a beautiful Grade II listed building. There was originally a Mill on this site in 1086AD and it is mentioned in the Domesday Book. Through the centuries, repeated rebuilding took place and finally in 1878, this top floor was added to the existing structure. Milling ceased around 1955 and since then the building has been little used until the present time, when it has become a fine restaurant and wedding venue."

It is an imposing building, sitting on a diverted section of Hampshire's River Avon about three miles from Christchurch. When we arrived for lunch the place appeared to be deserted, an easy impression given the size of the building and the grounds it sits in, after about twenty seconds we were greeted by an enthusiastic young man who told us that if we went through to the bar he'd be with us shortly. I ordered our drinks only to be told that the one that Janis wanted wasn't available as there had been a wedding on Saturday and they'd been 'cleaned out', but there was an equivalent substitute. He then asked if we wanted food, when I replied yes he proceeded to tells us that this was the first time they'd ever opened on a Monday and that nearly everything on the menu wasn't available, apart from about half a dozen items. We took the menus and walked through into a cosy corner in one of the three or four restaurant areas.

After about ten minutes he appeared with pen and notebook and asked us if we'd chosen, we'd both gone for a "Ploughmans", that 1960's advertising executives idea of what townsfolk think countryfolk eat after a morning in the fields. There were five different "Ploughmans" on the menu and he said that if it was all right with us rather than just serve us the one we wanted why didn't he do a special and put all four cheeses and the ham, with all the various bits and pieces, onto one big plate for each of us.

The food appeared ten minutes later and the phrase, "long haul," came into mind and it had nothing to do with flying to Australia, the plates were packed. The Chef followed the waiter and said, "I hope you two are hungry."

The spirit of Richlieu was revisited, the "we don't have much but whatever we do have you can have," spirit of the Blitz without the looting and removing of fingers. It won't happen again, today the bar and kitchen will be stocked and the lunchtime visitors will be able to enjoy whatever they want from the extensive menu. You can argue that it was bad planning, but we've all been to weddings and know how these things go, and sitting there looking out over the river nothing seemed to matter, it was great.