REGULAR readers will know that nothing — and I mean nothing — ever stands in the way of Mrs Eats and I in the pursuit of the perfect Sunday lunch.
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ON a scorching hot Sunday, what better place to head to than the coast? However, picking the right spot — with such a wealth of delightful areas to choose from — can be difficult.
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SOMETIMES, it seems as if Mrs Eats and myself must walk around with a big neon sign over our heads telling waiting staff to do their best to mess us about.
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THERE’S many a time Mrs Eats has told Yours Truly to “go fly a kite”... usually after I’ve come home a bit the worse for wear after a night out with the lads.
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YEARS of scranning can turn you into a bit of a curmudgeon if you’re not careful, but I pride myself on not being too picky. After all, not every village hostelry can be a gastro-pub.
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As regular readers know, I'm a real ale man at heart, to the point where, given half the chance, I could bore for England on the subject of what constitutes "a proper pint".
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It was a wrong turn that led us to last week's scranning venue. The Eatsmobile's "satellite navigation" - aka Mrs Eats' legendary map-reading skills - failed us once again and we ended up in Ryton, Gateshead.
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Roll on July 1... that's when smoking in pubs and clubs will become a thing of the past and scranners will be able to savour their food without it tasting of other people's ciggie smoke.
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