The Lime Tree's food always looks and sounds better than it tastes. It's all very Australian Women's Weekly, pine nut and burghul salads, goat's cheese and artichoke wholemeal quiches and caramelised onion fritatas. The place is always packed, mostly with studiously self-conscious café types all dressed up for the occasion. The few men think they're Hugh Grant while the women, from Sporty Sam and her pouty friend Agency Anne through to the constant infestation of chattering, faux-blondie mumsies, all look you up and down as you walk in.
I hate the Lime Tree.
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