I had booked a table for 1230 lunchtime on Wednesday for three of us. Not a member of staff in sight. My son saw our table and despite being asked to spell my surname when I booked the name on the reservation sign was spelt incorrectly. We sat down and waited and waited. Eventually I went up to the bar to ask if anyone was going to serve us. “Oh people usually come up to the bar to order. We have someone off sick, but I’ll get someone to come to your table.”
So menus were found, drinks and food ordered. Starters and most of mains were OK, but my son’s pie had dried up edges, as though it had been left in a microwave for a bit too long and the mashed potato looked as though it was made up, rather than real potatoes.
It is some years since I was last at the Passage House Inn and it will be several years before I go back again.
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