Friends by nature and now by name at Italian eatery

Mrs B and I were disappointed when Massimo’s in North Street stopped doing morning coffees and changed to being a full-blown restaurant.

It had been the sort of place where regular customers, having exchanged smiles, nods and hallos, would chat freely between tables, and where first names were widely used.

The place closed for a month or two last year in the transition to becoming Amici.

In no time at all, accolades were pouring in. Having eaten there a few times, it is one of the very few places Mrs B and I recommend to friends – or, indeed, to anyone who has something to celebrate.

Although it is advisable to book, we have sometimes seen a table found by friendly staff for a customer or two who have turned up on the off chance (including ourselves last Christmas when a pair of customers with room to spare at their table kindly invited us to share with them).

If I have any adverse criticism it is that Mrs B and I have sometimes been unable to finish the large portions. As I explained to the friendly waitress last week, my appetite is little more than a budgerigar’s – one of the few disadvantages of increasing age.

Is there no one on the Town Team who is responsible for the town’s floral arrangements? During the summer, the boxes dotted around the place with cascades of flowers looked particularly attractive. Now autumn is upon us, some are beginning to resemble compost heaps.

Doubtless if this were to be pointed out, the pitiful excuse of vandalism would be offered. When vandals wreck something, it is down to the authorities to deal with it, just as it should be down to the authorities to deal with slaloming cyclists on pavements.

Unfortunately, our Cabinet of Councillors seem more excited by the prospect of dealing with millionaires and ageing pop stars than they are with the mundane business of running a town for the benefit of its residents. Is a toy railway museum really more important than the needs of those whose social services lifelines are being whittled away? The largest part of Ashford’s history – over hundreds of years – was its status as a market town. For some reason, the (relatively) few years spent as a railway town seem to have had a mesmerising effect on the loudest voices in the council.

‘Is a toy railway museum really more important than social services?’