A 5am start in London meant that by the time I’d dumped my stuff at the hotel and got to the Rijksmuseum for lunch I was hungry and slightly ratty. Grub was needed before culture.
A small wait for a table was natural enough and it’s a pleasant room to wait in the atrium of the museum. The seating is spacious and it took a leisurely amount of time before our order was taken by a different member of staff.
Drinks – two glasses of merlot – arrived and ten minutes or so later food. A beef rendang baguette for him and a veal cheek for me. The veal cheek was delicious but the mushrooms it rode in on were cold. And where were the spuds?! Or any stodge?! For €18 you get half a lunch?
Well, we polished everything off and thought at least it meant that we’d earned a big dinner (of which more later). I tried to catch the attention of the waiter. And of another waiter. And of another waiter. They were busy seating people and taking orders. I decided let’s give it five minutes and then put our coats on. We put our coats on. No reaction. We started walking to the exit. Not a turned head. We were through the exit and technically on the lam. No pursuing staff.
As a fugitive I hid out in full view in the museum for three more hours, guilt at first burning my cheeks at the first time I’d done a runner. But technically it wasn’t a runner. They just hadn’t asked us to pay.
No rating (as I didn’t pay the bill at the end)
Blue Badge guide to London and academic specialising in early twentieth century history. Blogging on history, academia, and food and culture in the capital (and occasionally elsewhere).