Made a pilgrimage to the legendary Grindleford Cafe in Derbyshire on Saturday. It's a proper unreconstructed British cafe serving pints of tea and coffee and enormous portions of suitably unhealthy fodder. The interior is festooned with cheerfully grumpy signs in Shrigley-esque handwriting instructing customers not to take too many serviettes or to browse the magazines without buying. Fortunately I'd also taken my bike with me on the trip so was able to offset the lashings of white bread and fat with a bit of pedalling around the Notts/Derbyshire border alps, so no harm done!
1 comment:
fucking Grindleford! Spent time there at Uni in my rock climbinging days! Like a midlands Sintra!
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