as jam makers now living and working the other side, we rely on Papa's after a days
damson picking in Kentish orchards. Fresh cod falling from the fork in juicy flakes,
crunchy light batter, chips that generally have some dry rustle about them ....
everything cooked to order. Quibbles ... the factory sauces, the tea by the cup not
the pot. Service, always sweetly concerned to soothe our sweaty brows, and a surprising
range of newspapers on tap, from the Kentish Herald to the US Herald Tribune.
Pigging out on the extra large cod has to date inhibited a finishing twirl round their Spotted Dick
and custard, but that day will doubtless dawn ....
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