Having visited friends that weekend, I saw my first real-life, in the flesh, Wimpy, of which I had heard so much, and of which nothing good was said. I was fascinated.
Alas, on the Sunday it did not open until 12 noon, so off we went in search of further succor.
Oh, yes, a Cornish pasty store. In lieu of decent pies in this country, the pasty is the next best thing. As we are the closest to Cornwall that I had ever been, a pasty to fortify the spirit seemed to be in order.
The usual choices of meat+potato = goodness.
All of the choices also conveniently printed on your paper bag, in case you wish to return for seconds: what a great idea!
At first glance, exactly what one would expect. Firm crust; not too greasy; large and risen; crunchy to bite...
Unfortunately, it was all but hollow...
The pastry was thicker than expected: less like a puff pastry than one of those unfortunate pastry shells used to contain a filling when baking, and to be discarded before consumption. Possibly very authentic, but certainly not good for the stomach.
Yes, we had found the black hole of Calcutta...
Back to our main feature: Wimpy's! As a young lad, brought up on cartoons and comic books, I was enamoured by the manly adventures of Popeye, and his menagerie of friends: one of whom of course wisely said: "I would gladly pay you Tuesday for a burger today". Wise economics, indeed. I think, although might stand corrected, that Wimpy as a chain was named for the eponymous hamburger consumer.
Wimpy's is (or was) a chain of restaurants from the 70s, and indigenous to the UK. Boasting burgers, and their ilk, this was a sit down restaurant, not one of those self-service upstarts!
Alas, MacDonald's took over, and Wimpy restaurants are now rarely sighted in their natural habitat.
It seems that in the sleepy town of Torquay, where the average age of the local fauna is around 65, this bygone from a gentler age still exists... just...
Yes, the menu is incredibly extensive, with helpful photos in case one couldn't picture a chicken nugget, or bangers and mash.
When ordering at the counter, I was told that this is a sit down menu, and asked to well... sit down. Once seated, I was asked my order... I guess when in Rome, do as Romans do.
The general hygiene of the place was highly suspect, with the loos in serious disrepair and dangerous overfill - and lit by ultra violet lights; possibly to help clean the harder to find stains.
Our quarter-pounder equivalent firmly ensconced in a generic paper bag, we head off in search of the station.
Mmmmm greasealicious good. At least it's in a wholemeal bun, for that semblance of healthy eating.
That's not pus, it's cheese! (we think).
The flaccid, and somewhat old, chips are served in a generic styrofoam container used by the most (and least) reputable kebab shops and vans.
After chomping through a half of the burger, we hit the mother lode of onions, all huddling in one corner, ready to make a last stand.
All in all, not to be recommended; another cherished childhood memory bites the dust.
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