retiredmartin

There is little better in life than planning a Monday pub visit, particularly one that includes black pudding and poached egg.  Unfortunately, Eton‘s posh-looking George had clearly had enough of commoners ticking pubs and had closed especially for me.  No warning on the web, no Twitter account, no Times announcement.

I’ll be back, disguised like an American tourist, very soon.

My 3.5 hour journey wasn’t wasted, as the joys of west Slough were now on my doorstep, via a walk and train to Burnham.

While I waited for the Barleycorn to open, and it did open, I followed the tourist trail. Don’t hold your breath. This is the highlight, by Cippenham Pond;

There’s always magic in English villages like this, however hard it is to find. You just have to develop an appreciation of scuba shops and barbed wire.

Better art was available in the wonderfully named Tummies Bistro, which I commend to all visitors to Bath Road and its collection of “bodyworks” (no idea) and bathroom shops.  It’s a tremendous place, with some antique art near the loos.  I like the idea of childrens pictures being left hanging up for ever.

Over coffee I heard a chap louder than David Brent attempting to have a secret conversation about “a deal going on down near Slough“, which sounds vaguely familiar.  I wondered if he was hoping I was listening to his talk of “unmissable opportunities” and would offer him Mrs RM’s life savings for a 7.5% stake.

Tummies even had a lone hand pump with Rebellion’s Christmas beer, which seems to be lasting well beyond the taking down of the tree.

The Barleycorn is clearly proud of being “the only Beer Guide in Slough”  which I applaud.  Pleasingly, a Greene King Flame Grill is next door, so that sign really rubs it in when the coach-loads of GBG tickers arrive from Islington, Manchester and Minneapolis.

I loved it. Even the hole in the pub sign was clearly a homage to another famous South-East pub.  Which one ?

Proper basic seating, beer mats, tat, a cheery welcome, a row of Boring Brown Bitters, and a pint of Good Old Boy pulled through before it was served.

That’s how to do it. Just a shame about the tulip glass.

And if that doesn’t sell Slough to you, just remember it isn’t Maidenhead.