Turning ourselves away from the inn

  There’s a pub in Kentish Town called the Crash and Fail (also known as the Bull and Gate). Owned by the once estimable Young’s Brewery, it’s a large place, with a long curving bar fronting the frontage; a vast room at the back (once a music venue) and a spacious upstairs, with another bar.

 

The pub’s kitchen has (or had) a “reputation”. So it came to pass that the pub’s offering of a set price Christmas lunch, at a steepling price of £95 per adult head, proved seductive to those faced with the alternative of cooking a family meal. At that price, it just has to be good and worth it, no? Drinks not included.

 

My vision was of elegant dining tables well spaced and well set with napkins, silver and glass, and discreet service bringing each (of 6!) course and studiously taking and delivering drinks orders. Alas.

 

The large spaces were filled with pub-issue tables, laid hurriedly with pub-issue implements, as if for a normal bar meal. Tables were crowded chairs difficult to manoeuvre against walls or the backs of other chairs for other tables. Organisation had prevailed enough to place reservation names on tables. But there organisation ended.

 

We squeezed in, a large party spread over two tables; ages from twin babies through schoolchildren to adults. We squeezed in and waited. No one came to our tables, though waiters, few in number, hurried past with looks of grim desperation. Well, we thought, at least we have pre-ordered the food, so that should come out unprompted. Well, we said, if there’s no table service for drinks, at least (like others we now noticed) we can edge through to the front bar and get our own.

The bar, as mentioned, is very long and there was one one man behind it, sporting a rictus of a civil smile. Of course there was a queue… but some time later we could steer back to our table bearing bottles and glasses.

It was now well near an hour from our allotted arrival time and still no sign of any food (the six courses-six!). Tables around us were restlessly expectant also.

Near the serving hatch at the back of the dining room a crowd of over half a dozen began to gather. They were having heated words with the harassed staff. Perhaps a double booking, nowhere to sit? It slowly dawned on us that the growing row- face in face, finger pointing- was about the common cause- everyone was waiting, and waiting too long.

Food was indeed coming through the serving hatch, but it was coming too slowly and the delays were mounting: waits of an hour were turning into two or more.

The crowd of protesters gradually morphed into a queue of people demanding refunds, which the demoralised and near tearful staff were beginning to issue.

Approaching our own two hour mark, we decided on the same strategy. Our representative was told that Young’s head office had by now put a block on refunds initiated by staff on the spot.. We would have to apply by email after Christmas.

We left. Fortunately we could retreat a short distance to a welcoming house where there was sufficient Christmas time food and drink to scavenge and save our festive day. 

Jan 2025