Following  our meeting with Extortionate Kitchens R Us, on Sunday, we decided we needed a stiff drink and a good sit down. Some food would be good too.

Our restaurant of choice recently, has been the Toby Carvery that opened in town last year. The food is good quality and plentiful and they are kid friendly too. And they sell Tetley. The beer, not the tea. Though, they may sell the tea as well, I don’t know. I digress. Where was I? Ah yes: good food, good beer and good with kids. Five good reasons to pay them a visit.

“Three, sir!”

Ahh, yes, three good reasons to pay them a visit. And so we did.

I noticed on the menu that ones meal – though already quite reasonably sized – could be upgraded to KING SIZE for just £1.50 extra. Our second bargain of the day. Better than that, it stated that if a member of staff failed to offer you this option, you could have a KING SIZE for the price of a regular meal.

Our drinks were brought over and we ordered a carvery each. Our waiter didn’t offer us the KING SIZE upgrade.

I went up to the meat counter. The chef picked up a plate and asked what meat I would like. I then mentioned that I wanted to go KING SIZE, at which point he replaced the plate and picked up a KING SIZE one, asking again which meat I would like. I told him that I was so hungry, I could eat a horse. He smiled politely, as if he hadn’t heard that one twenty times already. I pointed and he placed large cuts from each joint on display.

“Oh, gone for the large one, have you?” remarked Mrs M, as I sat down, my plate fair brimming with a full monty Sunday roast and ALL the trimmings.  I explained that I’d only gone for it as it was the same price as a standard meal, because no-one had offered it me.

Our food devoured and our hunger sated, I asked for the bill.  I was shocked and annoyed to find that the extra £1.50 HAD been added to it.

My smug satisfaction was replaced with a seething anger. I had been done over by the waiter to the tune of one hundred and fifty new English pence. I know that’s not a great amount, but one pound fifty is one pound fifty.  And, it’s the principle of the matter: they didn’t keep their end of the deal, so there is no reason why I should pay them an extra £1.50

“You wanna complain,” said Mrs Masher.

“You’re right, I do wanna complain, ” I said.

The waiter came over. “Was everything OK?” he asked.

“Yes. lovely.” I said, handing him the correct money.

Mrs Masher looked at me, disparagingly.

“Well, it was only £1.50″, I said.