[Pigging by Wilfrid: January 29. 2014]
The glow from the big windows of Dover was especially welcome on a snow-ridden, hysterically cold evening recently. Even so, I nearly walked by. I thought the place would be, if not tiny, at least...well, bijou.
After all, look at Battersby. Indeed, all I ever did with Battersby was look. A couple of times in the early days I peered hopefully through the front door, only to be told there wouldn't even be a table if I waited. It was a place to stand outside at 5pm, and I never did.