Fully English – The Curious Case of the Missing Breakfast
“Have you seen that?” Morgan’s expression was one of a man aggrieved as he glared suspiciously at a pristine chill cabinet where ranks of croissants stood shoulder to shoulder with yoghurts and low fat spread. Fresh fruit held itself up for inspection nearby. Gleaming urns of coffee, tea and chocolate stood to attention as guests filed by in an orderly manner to fill their cups. “Leicester‘s in the middle of England; so why are we being accosted by continental breakfast?” he grumbled.
When we tumbled into our comfortable bed the night before, after a visit to Agra, one curry house among many on London Road – Leicester’s answer to London’s Brick Lane, the ibis hotel’s morning menu was not a priority. We had a lot of fine food to sleep off. Not even the dawn chorus of clubbers, twittering and cackling, as they fluttered into shared rooms to sleep off the daylight, disturbed us significantly.
“It’s a crime! Who stole my full English?” Now was not the time to point out that Leicester is famous for its international flavour. Morgan is fervent about his breakfast on a Sunday. “I bet Tanky wouldn’t have let them get away with it.” Tanky Smith was the city’s first private detective, credited with making the wild streets of Victorian Leicester safe to walk. The previous day we’d visited his building, Top Hat Terrace and admired the many carvings of his head. I wasn’t sure his interests stretched to the contents of a twenty-first century buffet breakfast.
I studied the tiny folder that held our electronic room key. “Good Morning!” it exclaimed cheerily, “Enjoy the ibis Breakfast at any time from 4.00am to 12.00am,” an encouraging start, but disappointment followed. This was a French hotel serving continental breakfast (ibis 2009 [1] ). The website proclaimed that the hotel chain liked to add “local specialities – exotic fruits in Brazil, crepes in France, uncooked meats in Spain (...)” (ibishotel 2009 [2]), so why not bacon and eggs in Britain? Morgan was right: it was a crime. Where had our breakfast gone?
The night before, we had sat in this same first floor bar – which was now posing as a breakfast room – watching the city below where beautiful, historic buildings rub shoulders with the best that new architecture has to offer. The Curve Theatre and High Cross building are evidence of the city’s beautification with intent.
We could see three police vehicles parked against the central reservation of the dual carriageway. Officers conferred as their blue lights flashed and the city traffic rushed past.
Now it was morning and not a constable in sight. Morgan nudged me. "Am I still drunk?" he asked in a hushed voice, his face pale. I followed his startled gaze to where a darkening shadow wobbled into existence. There was a gentle pop and suddenly a top hat floated in midair. A large nose, intelligent eyes and a mobile mouth appeared beneath it, set in a weather beaten face. "If you're drunk,” I muttered, “then so am I."
The eyes regarded us thoughtfully. "What seems to be the trouble?"
Morgan reclaimed his composure first. "Are you a ghost?"
"Think of me as a free spirit here to avert a breach of the peace. I deduce by your manner that you have a mystery to solve which would benefit from the attention of a seasoned detective."
"I just want my breakfast," replied Morgan gloomily. "These people seem to think we’re in France."
"What evidence brings you to this conclusion?"
"Look at what’s on offer: coffee, croissants and bloody yoghurt! I hate yoghurt."
"Outlandish. I don’t even know what half those things are. Well, if the breakfast doesn't come to old Morgan, old Morgan should go to the breakfast." Tanky’s face creased jovially.
“Sorry?"
" Are you set on staying within the city boundaries?"
"I am set on eating a decent plate of bacon and eggs. I don’t much care where."
“Perhaps you should both travel incognito. I always found it effective.” Judging by the carvings on Top Hat Terrace, this meant putting on a false beard and hat. The world has moved on since his day, but women still don’t look good with facial hair. We compromised on a new shade of lipstick and false eyelashes. Morgan pulled out a woolly hat from his pocket and tugged the brim down over his ears and eyebrows. Tanky swapped the top hat for a bowler and handlebar moustache. Our identities now concealed, Tanky’s head bobbed gently above the back seat as we drove off on our mission.
After travelling down Constitution Hill, a metaphor for our empty bellies, we hit St George way. “Watch out for dragons,” he quipped.
You need to choose a road suitable for a well built fellow.” Did he mean a street named after Daniel Lambert, legendary outsize man of Leicester? No, we were turning into Burleys way. “Old John might have a point of view.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Right.”
We left the city and the Leicestershire countryside opened out. Trees and fields lined the road and the land undulated gently in the morning light. Morgan didn’t seem to notice. He was now a man in a hat on a mission and knew exactly where he was going.
When we reached the venerably thatched village of Newtown Linford, he pulled up and parked within sight of Bradgate Park, which bordered the village on one side. Old John Tower was visible on its lonely perch a few hundred yards away.
Tanky, now wearing a flat cap and goatee beard, nodded at a shop opposite the church. “This post office," he said gravely, "is not all it seems. It is in disguise." We investigated and ascertained that it was now a tea room that served more than tea; the menu offered a full English breakfast.
We ordered and settled down to wait, the aroma of cooking bacon held us spellbound. After a respectable period, breakfast arrived: two plates of perfectly cooked bacon and eggs, beans, mushrooms, tomato with tea and toast that tasted of fresh air and sunshine.
Tanky must have left while we were eating, giving us no chance to thank him for solving the curious case of the missing breakfast.
Staying and Eating in Leicester
The ibis hotel is convenient to the city centre attractions, including the wonderful ethnic restaurants on London Road, the iconic Curve Theatre and the stunning High Cross shopping centre.
Prices charged are per room, with a supplements for continental breakfast and wireless internet. Rooms are all en suite. Check online for up to date prices and discounts.
Disabled facilities are available although disabled car parking spaces are sometimes used by able-bodied drivers.
For ethnic food, go to London Road. Step out of the train station and turn left. You will find a great choice a short walk away. The Lansdowne serves an excellent English.
Three curry houses worthy of note stand side by side: Agra, Shimla Pinks and Neela Palace. It is often possible to find a table without booking.
