I'm not going there again.

I'm not going there again.
Let me; elucidate. (a Good word that one, elucidate. Don't know what it means.
It was Bloody Mary's birthday yesterday, she was sixty-one going on twelve. Anyway, it was her birthday and she wanted to go for a meal with her two daughters, a granddaughter and me to pay for it.
"Where?" I asked, fear and miserly intent wrenching my bowels.
"The Grange!" cries Herself and of course the daughters agreed. Where the fuck is Cinderella? I've found the two ugly sisters.
"Alright," says the Saint. "We will go to The Grange."
So we all get ready, even Alyssa got a wash. That kid is waterproof.
All piled in my poor, long-suffering car and off we set.
Halfway there they decided to go to The Grey Horse in Boldon where I had chicken and ale pie or some such crap and when I got it the pie wasn't cooked. Not only that but Angela found a hair in her food, whatever it was.
I left, felt definitely Dissatisfied. Angela complained and the manager gave her a tenner but that's not the point, the food was crap.
I'm not going there again.