as for 'idiot' he did say what he said to a rider who politely asked for tomato sauce to go with fish and chips, I appreciate he might have had a tough day but that's his job and to say that to a 'customer' that's tired and hungry and perfectly civil would be actionable in most professions.
You're mixing your chefs up. Vincent was the one shouting at riders about ketchup, which was an idiotic thing to do. The other chef was, for the most part, unfailingly polite to everyone.
To this point I have kept quiet about this cretin, assuming that his rudeness and complete idiocy was limited to the period when I stopped at this control.
Where shall I start?
Least serious first:
1. As I leave the premises, he screams at riders, "get these fuc$ing shoes out of the way". I narrowly avoided an explosion with this character but bit my lip in fear of destroying what had been an enjoyable day to that point.
2. Secondly, he screams at a kitchen assistant, '"fuking well finish that". Oddly, the assistant was using a chip fryer outside of the kitchens in the yard. I am not convinced that North Lincolnshire Council's regulatory services would have approved of such unusual hygiene standards.
3.
The most serious: I suffer an unusual food intolerance caused by onions. It is not my expectation for caterers or the LEL organisers to cater for such an oddity. However, when I asked the Chef a straight forward and politely questioned, "does this contain onions as I have an intolerance", all I received was a rude retort. "What the fuk are you on about?". He then points at some trays. One mouthful of what was clearly an onion based gravy was sufficient. Perhaps he was being vicious, perhaps he did not understand, perhaps he did not hear me correctly or perhaps he was mistaken in his advice?
That was the end of my LEL.
I crawled to Plocklington with increasing discomfort and nausea. Coupled to the fact I could not get an early bed, by dawn I was shot. Not that a bed would have helped. At 45 minute intervals I was sat on the one of the few Plocklington toilets trying evacuate this poison. The cramps and discomfort in my stomach made me wonder if a Nazi jack booted soldier had decided to use it as a punch bag. It took 24 hours to recover. LEL was over and I limped into York station the following morning dosed with antihistamines and Gaviscon and attempting to eat anything bland that may settle this discomfort.
It has convinced me that events such as LEL are not for me unless I source my own alternative food supplies. Perhaps I should have given more forethought to the matter. By no means is this a criticism of the marvellous team that ran this event or the volunteers at Market Rasen, who have my deepest sympathy.
PS. Onions will not be on the menu at The Kidderminster Killer
EDIT - Despite my protestations and the forced DNF, the LEL gave various pleasures: (i) a wonderful outbound ride with some great fellow riders; (ii) engagement with a wonderful atmosphere (minus the chef), and (iii) an enjoyment reading about and following those fellow riders that did manage to finish.
