restaurants

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…two things that never, ever happen in good restaurants. Never eat anywhere that sets fire to things on purpose in front of you. Not pancakes, not Italian digestive. And never return to an establishment where the waiters sing ‘Happy Birthday’. Nothing is so indicative of desperate sycophancy than the barbershop quartet of service staff warbling over a terminally horrified woman just coming to terms with being 50, who now knows she’s got to eat a vile ice-cream cake with blue candle wax on it and then walk through a room full of people all thinking, thank God I’m a Sagittarius, remind me not to come here in December.

Here and There: Collected travel writing by A. A. Gill