A nearby out of town complex had a vast choice of ordinary country-wide chain restaurants, Nando's chicken, Mexican and several more.
Famous Tea Place
A lady who lived in nearby St Neot's said that the place for tea in Huntingdon is The Bridge Hotel. It's good, and historic. Just what we wanted.
We drove past it twice, trying to get into the centre of Huntingdon. Unfortunately, Huntingdon is rather unfriendly to passing cars, being partly pedestrianised. Having seen a bit of the pedestrianised area from both ends, just more nationwide chain shops, we returned to the Bridge hotel which had a large free car park at the back.
The front of the hotel, on the road on a busy corner, is nonetheless attractive with its i v y -covered front. At the back is the easy to locate car park with a second riverside area so lots of places.
Haunted Hotel Outlook Out Back
The back of the hotel is a bit disappointing, despite their efforts to make it attractive. The river is the colour of sludge, or sewage. A derelict building opposite is unnerving, looks haunted. Blackened broken windows make you want to cross the river and long inside, fearing the worst. The flapping front door lures in the unsuspected trespasser. Piles of rubbish outside are hiding what? Like something out of a horror movie. The only bright note is that if you want to write a horror novel or short story or screen play, sitting opposite, imagining what could be inside, who would dare too there, with what intention - this place is a great inspiration.
On our exit we saw a lone white swan. I wondered how it stayed so clean in the muddy river. Maybe it was actually off-white, very off, and simply appeared white by relativity, contrasting with the dirty brown river.
What's worse, the noise of the fountain in the garden was drowned by the industrial sound of lorries passing along the motorway on the nearby overhead bridge. Sad. About as elegant and romantic as being a down and out under a viaduct in a B movie.
Wine Shop
However, stepping inside was a great relief. Our first stop in the hotel was the wonderful wine shop. (No assistant in sight.) A central E n o m a t i c machine was circular. At first look prices seemed high, around £6-10 for a glass. But a second machine against the wall had a revolving display of prices for different dispenses of sizes, £1 something for the smallest taste.
The big displays of bottles were helpfully labelled, red, white, low price, high price and so on. As for novelties, gifts for special occasions, I spotted a bottle light converting an empty wine bottle into a light at just under £10. Plus point for a shop and souvenirs to buy. (Something under £5 and a shop assistant, a bell, or directions to ask another member of staff, would have been even better.)
Hotel Decor
Around the walls of the hotel were invitations to wine tasting events and flower arranging classes. Events - and something to read about - plus point. The flower displays were a good feature. I gave it a plus point.
Coffee was being served in two areas, the main lounge you walk into at the back with a view over the garden. Even more inviting a sunken room off it with windows on the front and a cheerful burning fire, and a bar. Newspaper in the rack - Telegraph and Times included.
In the lounge were a crowd of middle aged and elderly white-haired, well-spoken people. A good-looking elderly man, very devoted to an elderly woman. I stared at them. They stared at me, probably because I stared at them.
We inspected the menu. A choice of coffees. I chose affogato, espresso poured over ice cream. That made a change. (Although they claimed the ice cream is home made it was nothing special, not as good as the affogato at an ice cream shop in London where people queue for tiny tables squashed in to have affogato made with exotic mixtures of two or three fruit and nut flavours.)
When the coffees arrived, we were pleasantly surprised to find that a large rock hard biscuit was included with both the espresso coffee (old-fashioned generous large jug of milk slightly higher than the cup on the side, not those thimble size jugs half the size of an espresso cup you get in some places). The rock hard biscuit resisted my teeth, but proved just right for not dissolving when dunked in coffee.
Having decided that the coffee was no more expensive than Starbucks, for a very elegant, historic hotel, with a large biscuit. I asked my companion: 'Is this usual? Or did we get somebody else's by mistake?' He replied, confidently, 'Obviously they way they do things here."
By now the Bridge hotel is collecting accolades from me. Off to the Ladies. Ah - both a dispenser of washing gel and a dispenser of hand cream. Both flavoured with rhubarb. Apparently the Gents has only the washing gel, not the moisturiser, but my companion enthuses about the aroma.
Having now been won over, we stop to look at the dinner menu in case we want to return for a meal. Unfortunately the price is way beyond our budget, way beyond the prices of the lunchtime offers we get flowing in daily in London, two or three courses for £20, usually with a cocktail added. Thirty or forty pounds per person for top restaurants.
The Bridge menu offers a seat meal including steak on Sunday night, but we will be returning for mid-week lunch.
We gasp with horror at the prices, a main course at £15-20, tempting items costing even more, add starter, dessert, coffee, wine, service and the price goes up and up.
Nonetheless, we will return for coffee, and maybe look for any off season offers. If price is no object, looks at the reviews on TripAdvisor for rooms and lunches and dinners.
Just before we left we discovered a second doing room at the front, with an oriental statue in the fireplace. A helpful member of staff came to see what we were looking for. She told us that this room is used for overflow at Xmas time, for special events such as weddings, Christenings, parties, business meetings and funeral parties, or as the substitute main restaurant if the larger main restaurant is booked for a large wedding.
I've already planned my return trip. I think I shall sit by the window looking over the garden or by the fireplace.
Angela Lansbury, travel writer and photographer, author and speaker.
Photos being added shortly.
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