Foreword

"What about lunch, Pat?" I said. We were making a television film in Bristol, my favourite city, and as we were to be there for more than three weeks catering arrangements were going to be important. Normally a film unit is fed by strange men who follow you around in a small lorry. "Ah," said Pat Dromgoole our director, "we're going to Keith Floyd's in Clifton." This was in the early 1970s. The first meal was so good that afterwards I remember saying to Pat, "never mind the filming, let's just make sure Keith can fit us in every day."