Some titles write themselves, which is just as well as I’m running out of puns and a lot of these places have no famous residents to draw on for inspiration.
Otterbourne, for example. The most famous person to come from here named Eastleigh “Eastleigh“, rather than “Trunge” or “Grod“, presumably.
How can I resist the promise of Otter Bitter in a pub called Otter in the village of Otterbourne.
The Otter is the pub above the “12”, presumably the average number of handpumps for the area.
That’s a gorgeous piece of Ordnance Survey, and a slice of bucolic heaven north of Chandlers Ford, particularly for bluebell experts like myself (my Dad is a florist).
Otterbourne Park has some attractive walks, so obviously I see not a soul on my scramble round the modest hills. The pub carpark, in contrast, is packed.
The Otter is one of those delightfully faded country inns which doesn’t discriminate against drinkers. That means a fair few folk drinking the cask, and surely a good Otter;
But no ! It seems to have been replaced by Coaster, possibly the Cornish translation of “Otter“, but I fear more commercial reasons at play. A classic Enterprise list there.
That gave me the impetus to try that other classic but inconsistent beer, the Landlord. In the light of recent intelligence, I rather expected to pay a bit more than £4 a pint in a smart village near Winchester, which is a shocking thing to say.
With proper tables, horse brasses, and some particularly gleaming glass displays, it was a pleasant place to absorb a village pub atmosphere over a cool, rich beer (NBSS 3.5).
My attempt to translate the local banter was thwarted by a rare airing of Now 83. “Give it up” and “Hold Me Now” never grow old, do they ?