It's a green carpet entrance.
As I approach the doorway to Bécasse, I hesitate, for in my way is a shallow bed of grassy turf. It's cut to a doormat-size, but positioned sideways so it runs like a small hall-runner. A little voice inside me shouts "KEEP OFF THE GRASS" but there's no other way around and that's when I realise we're meant to walk on the grass, a tongue-in-cheek start to
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