Having finally made my way airside, I had a small amount of time to get something to eat before boarding my flight.  It was still early, so I fancied a light breakfast.

I took a seat in The Tin Goose pub /  Restaurant and perused the breakfast menu.  It was full of overpriced variations of the English breakfast, with little option for someone wanting something on the ‘light’ side.  I settled on Eggs Benedict and waited for someone to take my order.

And waited.

Then I noticed that this restaurant was ’self ordering’ as opposed to table-service or self-service.  You go to the bar to order, give them your table number, and they bring the food to you.

This presented a dilemma.  I was eating alone, so I would have to leave my table whilst I placed my order, and due to the constant security warnings I was not about to leave my belongings there as a sign the table was occupied.  I did not want to be at the centre of a “Extremely popular blogger causes airport chaos!” story, not again.

I finally got to the front of the queue and ordered.

“We have no Eggs Benedict, sorry.”

“Right.  I’ll just have some scrambled eggs on toast then?”

“We don’t do that.”

“Poached?”

“Nope.”

“Boiled?”

“Nope.  You can have fried.  As part of a breakfast from the menu.”

I acquiesced and chose the “mini” full English, because I am on a healthy eating kick.  I also ordered an Orange juice.  He bent over and opened the fridge behind the bar and pulled out a ready-poured glass of orange juice.

“I don’t want that one.”

“What’s wrong, it’s fresh?”

“It was pre-poured, you could be secretly trying to rohypnol me or anything.  I’d like a fresh one, poured in front of me, please.”

He did as I asked and requested my table number, which I handed over, before he pointed out that an elderly couple were now sat there.

“Well I WAS sat there, before I had to come up here to order, whilst carrying all my belongings so as not to cause a full scale security alert, ensuring the table looked vacant.”

We settled on a recently vacated table close by, and I went off to use some incredibly expensive wi-fi.  My breakfast arrived, without the toast, and I tucked into the worst ten pound breakfast I’ve ever had.

breakfast · bridge bar · heathrow