I know us club cyclists can seem like a swarm of locusts arriving at a cafe, but in this case we were about 20-strong and arrived in three separate groups.
The 'waiter'/'maitre d'/'proprietor' (don't know how he'd prefer to be addressed - 'grump-in-chief' would fit) greeted the two of us that were sat at a table by the fireplace, with "This is reserved. Sit over there". We'd missed the hand-written scrap of paper.
We were largely invisible. The air given out by the only chap we saw was that we were all an irritation and getting in the way of him doing whatever it was that he really wanted to be doing. Think a 'passive aggressive' Bernard Black or Basil Fawlty.
The couple of waitresses that we did see were cheery and polite - but didn't hold back the atmosphere exuded by the chief.
As for food - the leaf-tea was nice, and the toasted tea-cake adequate; but the scones looked small and cheap. Not overly expensive (especially for Woburn).
However - I won't set foot in the place again. Service was so poor that hopefully word will travel, it's already my anecdote-du-jour. One of our number sat outside with a cake from the shop rather than enter after visiting once in the past... why oh why didn't he tell the rest of us!
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