It’s been a frantic month so far, and I’m still some way behind with my blog, though reading the excellent pieces from Alan and Simon on trips from 1998 and 2012 made me feel lightly less bad about bringing you a report from early April.
I can’t claim my heart sings for joy at the prospect of a return to the Norfolk Broads, but for each pound of Blackpool joy there’s an ounce of Norfolk regret.
It does at least provide a colourful Ordnance Survey extract, and we headed to the Dog at Ludham Bridge in the hope of finally appreciating the wonders of Potter Heigham. Stuck behind tractors, horseboxes and roadworks, it really was a hellish journey. Luckily, petrol prices are firmly 2014 (£1.26 a litre).
“Flat, flat, flat”
I can’t legally tell you what Mrs RM asked I do if she ever expresses a wish to move here in her senility, but it’s safe to say she won’t she shopping at Roy’s of Wroxham.
If you live in Holloway or Barnet this scenery may appeal;
Tranquil is the word, certainly, and there is an appeal to walking the River Ant. For about 20 minutes until the screams of Islington children become too much.
Anyway, enough of the positivity. On to The Dog, a proper pub, if a little spartan.
Only one beer on during this spell of gorgeous weather, which is my sort of minimalism. Adnams on keg, perhaps a first, and a solid interior without a soul in it. “Going back to my roots” played for no-one’s benefit except ours, and adverts for Dwyle Flunking* championships failed to convince Mrs RM to enter.
A very good local pale ale it was, though (NBSS 3.5), with a proper head.
Sadly few other takers for the beer or food on a gorgeous lunchtime. Considering the proximity to the boats and a large caravan site, that has to be a bit disappointing. I’d actually called by in January to find it closed, despite the usual GBG and WhatPub promises to the contrary.
By way of contrast, the King’s Arms at Martham , 5 miles and a lifetime away, is one of those delightful, slightly shabby boozers you occasionally stumble on, though rarely in Norfolk.
One for connoisseurs of the “old blokes at the bar” genre, though the welcome and the Belhaven (NBSS 3) were in a different league. A group of wine drinkers in the other room promised much, but their banter came to naught. A nice head, again.
That left just the one pub to do in Norfolk GBG 2017. You get that cracker tomorrow.
*Dwyle Flunking had a loan spell as City’s centre-back during the disastrous Alan Ball era (95-96) and now plays the comedy circuit in Norfolk.
retiredmartin 
Never drunk in Norfolk… You’re not really selling it to me !
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Wait till the Great Yarmouth post 😊
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You’ve got me hooked! I’ll be reading it…
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Aren’t the terms “City Centre- back” and “comedy circuit” fairly synonymous?
I’ve drunk keg Adnams, in Cambridge 🙂
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Where are you from Scott ?
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Originally Aberdeen, currently Leiden.
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May be passing your way in the Summer if you fancy a Heineken.
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The factory is within easy wlalking distance!
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Although there at least 4 regular cask outlets within half an hour of me at present, The Welsh handpumped cider outlet has long gone from Leiden, alas.
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I think we all need to know more, Scott. No survivors from those Dutch Beer Guide pubs I presume !
We did visit Leiden when we camped at Duinrell a few years back but don’t remember the cask !
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No, not really sure how they were selling cask in the first place. Only places I know in mainland Europe with British cask regulary available these days are Copenhagen, Helsinki and some of the larger Swedish cities. Did anywhere in Germany close to the British bases ever import I wonder?
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Interesting stuff. I saw Bombardier and, more interestingly, BrewDog on pump in northern Italy a couple of years ago.
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You’ve seen Jamie Pollock’s own goal too, then.
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I’ve also seen Stones and Cabalerro, “plus ca change….”
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I’d be disappointed if we didn’t still have comic potential to be honest, wouldn’t be City 😉
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Dutch outlets cask outlets I know are Arendsnest in Amsterdam, the Uiltje brewery tap in Haarlem, T’ Proeflokaal in Delft and the Fiddler (ex Firkin) in the Hague. Last 2 wouldn’t exactly be pre-emptive strikes in the UK, shall we say. There is apparently a country pub somewhere around Tilburg with London Pride on tap, but I’ve never been there.
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Almost forgot the best option, Thornbridge Den Bosch.
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The train journey from Posh to Norwich is arguably the most boring in the land and I’m sure leads to suicides. Based on this, I’ve never dared set foot in the broads themselves.
If Daydream Believer is played in a Sam’s pub with me present, given that I will sing, what will happen? Will it be nothing, a stern ticking off, ejection, barred from the pub or barred from all Sam’s pubs till kingdom come?
While we are on crap City defending and Norfolk, I should give a special mention to former Hull City goalkeeper David Stockdale for tonight scoring two own goals and either delaying or cancelling his team’s coronation as champions. He previously did similar for Fulham against City, giving the Mighty Tigers an entirely undeserved route back into the match and ultimately to survival and Fulham the knock back from a spirited run of form to be relegated. That bloke has the typical City gene in his blood. City, there’s only one City.
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