After finishing Derbyshire, thoughts turn naturally to Staffs, where frankly there’s an even better chance of Bass/Pedi and of being called “M’duck“. That’s pretty much all I really need from pubs these days.
Barton-u-L, as the kids call it, is handily placed between the National Arboretum and that place where they brew Bass.
Since Lord Buckethead was edged out in Maidenhead on the 8th, Barton is in just about the safest Tory seat in the country, and it looks it.
Well groomed, polite, without a railway station, but with a lovely church and seven real ale pubs.
All seven serve Pedigree.
In a GBG year with no new entries in Burton (and hence no trip to Coopers/Balti Towers yet), the Turns is the next best thing.
From a range of Pedigree and Wainwright (top), there was only one choice.
I won’t oversell it; the fast-selling Pedigree was very decent (NBSS 3) rather than stellar, but more importantly this was a real boozer with no obvious food trade (at 3.30 pm on a Sunday).
Velcro shoes, pub dogs that say sorry when you bump into them, nothing more recent than 1988 on the jukebox, and a book club that suggests folk come here for a long, reflective session;
The banter surrounded lads out spending £100 on their Friday night (“They could have had a deposit on a hut by now if they’d cut out the Pedi“) and the pains of being a “Bank of Grandad“. Alternative entertainment surrounded a critique of roast potatoes.
I left as the jukebox whirred into action, taking us from Steve Harley to the Travelling Wilburys, and had a slight panic that “Handle with Care” was actually released in 1989. Once WiFi was restored I was able to confirm that the 1988 cut-off was, in fact, being strictly applied.