Queen's Head or Drunken Duck?

Back in the days when we had three tiny children under five, we stayed in the Lake District at Hawkshead, with a bunch of university friends.

A plan grew to go for a last-day lunch at the excellent Drunken Duck, nearby.

However, on seeing the prices, Nigel and I baled out. It would be too difficult to keep all three children in a good mood while we ate, and it was too much money to chance.

While our friends settled to their gourmet meal, we went to the lovely Queen’s Head in Hawkshead.

We ordered a pleasant lunch, including a salmon sandwich for Pascoe. He tucked in enthusiastically. We were sad to miss the farewell lunch with our friends. Might we have managed after all?

Then Pascoe began to scream. What was it? Had there been something in the salmon sandwich.

The answer was Yes – Pascoe’s hand. He had shoved the delicious sandwich into his mouth so vigorously that he had crunched down hard on his own fingers. If that isn’t an advert for the scrumminess of Queen’s Head’s food, what is? They were also very nice about the piercing screaming.

Years later, staying with Pascoe once more in Hawkshead on our mother-son trip, we returned to the excellent Queen’s Head and were not disappointed. But we were both haunted by our unfinished business at the Drunken Duck.

So we went.

The food was exquisite and the venue delightful, but best of all, when the substantial bill arrived, my kind son split it with me.

And not a single scream.