As I said at the start of this blog, its main purpose is to lets Mrs RM know where I am when she can’t be bothered to look at the calendar. And to reach an uneasy peace on the use of possessive apostrophes, of course.
But I would also be thrilled if I could persuade a few folk like Dick & Dave from the States to visit our less heralded towns, rather than Norwich and Maidenhead.
And my final pub in Cleethorpes should convince them to take the slow train (via Newark) to the Humber.
Simply, the Nottingham House is a drinkers pub of the highest order.
I’m guessing a lot of holiday makers from the Midlands occupy this place from April to September, and locals wanting a proper pub take up residence all year round.
Just look at that proper seating, those Tetley hand-pumps, the dark wood, the attention to detail. In the absence of a central Sam Smiths house*, this is as good as Cleethorpes gets.
I was trying to come up with a comparator, and the Roscoe Head sprang to mind. An immaculate three-roomer, bustling but with proper seating for everyone, with a good range of beers but nothing to scare the locals (I don’t think that Stonehenge beer is the green one).
To be fair, the WhatPub description is all you need, but you have to experience this rather than have it described to you.
It’s not genteel, but is a sharp contrast to the Spoons, the keg bars and the two railway pubs. Nearly everyone is seated for a start, with lively conversation overpowering the Ireland v Wales game on the TV, even when Neil Taylor lost the plot.
There was more cask poured here than I’ve seen in a while, so on a Friday night you were guaranteed a decent pint. I went for the Tetley, in the way you’d go for Bass in the Coopers Tavern. Better than I’ve had in years (NBSS 3.5), though as Mr Coldwell will no doubt tell you, not what it was.
The Nottingham was so cosy, I stayed for another half. The barmaid asked if I wanted another Tetley. Pubs where they remember what a stranger had are a rarity these days, and that summed up the pub perfectly. I had the Landlord, another NBSS 3.5.
I didn’t take notes, but the conversation was pleasant and unremarkable, except to those of us who treasure the everyday.
I regretted that extra half in the morning. And the sweet and pork Hong Kong style from Golden City. But they were both worth the pain.
* Rob from the Isle of Axholme kindly reminds me there is a Sam’s; the Crow’s Nest is tucked away in the back streets. I’d be interested to know what holiday custom it gets.