In return for the stress, we were awarded one of the few parking spaces in Clifton, a swanky Bristol neighborhood.
SH did a great job of parking, even though he was doing everything backward, and we walked to the seafood restaurant his colleague had recommended. It was full. So we walked over to the Isambard Kingdom Brunel suspension bridge, which is a marvel of engineering and thoroughly impressive. This bridge will not fall down, unlike some bridges built in the past century whose names I will not mention but let this to be a lesson to us all that overengineering is not a bad thing. IK Brunel was an amazing engineer and a credit to the Empire. And the bridge is PRETTY.
Then we tried another restaurant that had things like Devon ham and reindeer sausage and all kinds of English food that we would never see at home and our mouths started to water and there were empty tables, but they too turned us away.
We ended up at a pub that served fabulous food: we had the seafood appetizer plate (below) that was probably enough food but we also had to try a local specialty, Pieminister pie, which was fabulous. The only drawback to the place was the sweet old man above who insisted on talking to us. And talking to us. And talking to us. When SH went to the Gents', the old guy told me he had had a stroke five years ago, so I cut him some slack, but when he came back to the table for the 5th time, I started to cut him off with an immediate, "Thank you so much! Yes, we'll try that. Do you need some help getting down the stairs?" I think he took the hint, bless his heart.
We have some leftovers of the fish for tomorrow, which meant we had to ask for more ice this evening. It was dreadful: I asked the bartender for two big glasses of ice and he said, "Of course!" SH was mortified.