The King’s Head

What is it about the King’s Head? It’s a nice-looking, centrally placed, Harvey’s-selling lunch option with a medium sized garden. But when it comes to ‘where shall we go to eat’ it never seems to crop up in the conversation. And there never seem to be more than a handful of regulars sitting round the bar. Not when I go in, anyway. Perhaps because of which it seems perfect for the informal lunch meeting I’ve planned with a couple of people who are to tell me about the David Nash sculpture exhibition at the Town Hall in May. Plenty of space, you see, for leaflets and notebooks and pens and things.

I’m bought a beer, and we look at the specials board. I’m starving. I choose the most expensive thing on offer, at £8.95, wondering if this is subconsciously because I suspect they’re going to pay for it. Sirloin steak with chips and mushrooms. My friends share a plate of sandwiches. They do pay.
We talk, and the food arrives. My steak is massive, at least an inch thick, with a strip of rawness in the middle. I ordered medium rare, and they’ve cooked it just right. Eating it is quite a major operation, but I manage to concentrate on the matter in hand. It’s a big, big deal that this exhibition is coming to town. It’s been arranged by the same group that brought Rodin’s Kiss, and Henry Moore, and Anthony Caro to Lewes. Afterwards I tell a lot of people about it. But not before I’ve told them about the steak. AL