Touring the British countryside, doing one’s bit to revitalise the economy, with permanently hungry kids in tow it ought to be easy to spend every last penny on homespun delights (rather than nip in to the local Lidl for some cave-aged Gruyere, a length of chorizo and a brace of baguettes for a roadside picnic). Not so easy, though. True, we’re all spoiled back at the world’s largest cookbook repository, but you’d think the odd week of pub grub would go down a treat, if only for a break from the chilli powder. And – after all – everywhere you go you see these signs, encouraging, quietly understated, promising expertise and handcrafted care in the making: ‘Good Food Served Here.’ Have you noticed? It’s never just ‘Food’. Always ‘Good Food’. And it’s shite. (I expect that last word will be censored, although I’ve used the five-letter Scottish declension to attempt to avoid the scissors. If there are three asterisks, read them as Not Very Nice.) Now, where was I….? Yes, the word ‘Good’ – surely meaning ‘Something worth having’ – has been hijacked by microwave-owning pretenders the length and breadth of the land. Hijacked and downgraded. Downgraded to insult the language – ‘good’ to the level of a platitude, ‘good food’ a cliché – and downgraded to insult the consumer, who is entitled to expect something from this surely contractual invitation to treat (or should that be 'eat'?). There’s been a lot of talk in political circles lately about the word ‘free’, but this ‘good’ business got me thinking – at least free either is or it isn’t, and you can make up your mind before you do the deal. Good old SP. Food for thought for the sign-writers, maybe?
