The hot food was cold ("But sir, Cumberland sausage in choux pastry and tempura are supposed to be cold, never mind the menu"). The cold food was warm (yummy tepid mayo-based potato salad). Guests were charged for soft drinks. There were no speakers for the music. When a single speaker arrived an hour later it took yet another hour to bring the fucking power cord for it.
There was no wine or water on the tables. We had to ask to get fucking proper napkins and full cutlery.
They started the room an hour late and bum-rushed everyone out of there 90 minutes early. We couldn't receive anyone in our suite afterward because the fucking lifts had (once again) gone dead and our two most important guests, the family matrons (74- and 93-years-old, respectively) couldn't make it up five flights of stairs.
The Adelphi already had our cash, Kevin made himself fucking scarce, we were fucked. The Bridal Suite was ice fucking cold, the heating not actually working and the electric "fireplace" being little more than decoration. A crappy 26W portable heater was brought up to the room.
Dinner at Simply Heathcotes was fucking fabulous. Service was incredible and the food divine. Even though they'd run out of the wine we'd wanted they provided other choices which were wonderful -- and cheaper. Far from rushing us, their staff made everything a fucking absolute pleasure. It might have helped that we told them "family gathering" rather than "wedding" but in comparison to what we experienced at the Adelphi I doubt it, if only because one of the first guests to arrive opened his gob and mentioned it was a wedding party.
The only reason Heathcotes doesn't have a Michelin star or three is that they're far too generous with the portions, far too friendly with the service, and far too reasonable with the prices. They do have a "Bib Gourmand" which is like getting a star but not charging the punters enough for the grub. Everything was perfectly cooked. Perfectly. So perfectly that they warned everyone that the lamb would be "pink" which is how it's properly done, just in case the heathen didn't know better (and many didn't). TWO PAWS UP.
The brekkie buffet I'd also ordered in the morning at the Adelphi came off a little better only because I rang down at zero-dark-thirty to remind them that coffee and tea would be there at 10:30, all cold food would be there by 10:45, all hot food would be there by 11:00 and none of the hot food -- especially the fucking chips -- would be cooked 90 minutes in advance and left in a bain marie to fester for three hours. And then I had to tell them again at around 9:00a.m.; surprisingly, Kevin still wasn't there. Or available. Or something. He was clever enough to avoid us even when we sent a staff member to go find him.
While brekkie went a lot better, the staff were once again trying to get us the fuck out of there.
Dear Britannia Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool: Fuck you.
Other than that (and a certain parking authority cunt), everything was most excellent. We'll beat the parking ticket on appeal.
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