… If a potato is very very good, an upstanding pillar of the potato community, championing the causes of rare potato breeds, devoted to its originating plant, pure, unsullied, and has never succumbed to the blandishments of wire-worm nor attempted to sprout prematurely or go green, then, when it dies, it will be taken to Betty’s Tea Rooms and made into a Rostï.
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What have you been doin’ goin’ to Betty’s, madame? And why didn’t you say you were goin’ there?
*sulk*
AB
I apologise immensly. We were passing through York. I needed to eat yummy things. I was in a fearful antisocial temper (you wouldn’t have liked me at all, I promise). I went and skulked in Betty’s. I am a rotten sort of friend who couldn’t plan my way out of a damp paper bag. I humbly abase myself and beg forgiveness.