The Seb & Fiona Blog

I noticed something strange about the restaurants in Venice. Not once did a waiter offer to grind some black pepper onto my food for me. There would be a mill on my table, and I would just grind the pepper myself. No awkward moment, no need for an overlong polite smile: it felt great.

Sooner or later, London will look back on the current plague of service pepper and feel both sheepish and bemused. We’ll sit in fructose bars, or something, and reminisce incredulously about this and other discontinued oddities - mullets, cold winters, Magners with ice, chorizo, pilates, London Fields, gastropubs, digital radio.

Can anyone think of any more?