At some point everybody should spend a night in a Scarborough Guest House, as I did the other Tuesday.
The Almar is a joy of a B & B, clean and cheery and with a feast of chocolate biscuits on the pillow when I arrived. Scrambled eggs and salmon for breakfast as well.
It’s a short hop from the cricket ground, where local by-laws dictate that Sir Geoffrey still opens the batting when Yorkshire CCC come to town in July.
At a recent wine tasting in our garden*, some folk from our village had been discussing their French “holiday” plans. I wager they’ve never been to Scarborough (or Bridlington). On a sunny Tuesday in June, Scarbs was perfect.
I kicked the evening off by walking the less heralded residential area above the A64. That’s a bit like going to Cambridge and walking round Romsey Town.
Of course, this is the area with the Stumble Inn, the new micro.
You call it a micro if you want; the Stumble is a great little pub, with that magic mix of punters you rarely get in a “proper” micro.
“Are ya member of that CAMRA ?” I could be, if you want.
“There’s a discount” I was then. 5p is 5p.
I enjoyed the Neepsend Stout (NBSS 3), but the ale seemed a bit secondary to an atmosphere generated by après–shopping locals and Hot Chocolate on the cunningly named Radio Scarborough.
Sample dialogue “Will do, once I’ve hit Jack off on Friday“. I’m sure it made sense to Simon.
I should have headed into town for the Spoons, tick No.2, but something was nagging at me.
There’s two very similar bars virtually side by side in Valley Road, the Valley and Cellars. Have a read of the WhatPub description for Cellars and tell me if you think it’s in the Beer Guide or not (my beautifully annotated GBG was back at the Almar). I was confused, and thought I’d better tick it anyway. If I hadn’t already; I couldn’t remember.
It’s a decent underground music bar, though the “Fuggle Bunny” wasn’t the highlight, a line you don’t get to use everyday.
Don’t judge me harshly, but “In the Air Tonight” was playing and I had to wait for the drum roll. Up until then, I thought it was “Biko“, which is worrying me. England were 2-1 down to France at this point, I noted.
Things went downhill from there. Rather beautifully so.
I popped in the Riviera Hotel for the best view from the balcony, and possibly the worst bar choice outside Blackpool ballroom.
Buoyed by the bingo calling, I decided to revisit the Hole in the Wall, once upon a time Scarborough’s top free house.
There’s a bit more competition these days, but a packed Hole (?) provided a classic drinking experience. A mix of Holsten and ale imbibers, and a delightful range from established family brewers, including a cool, thick Butcombe Forty Two (NBSS 3.5 +)
Yorkshire were losing the cricket on one screen, England equalising on the other,
No-one seemed interested in either.
Folk will tell you Scarborough dining is all about posh restaurants called Cecil’s and Anton’s, but actually it’s all about scampi and chips from Rennard’s. Even without tartare sauce, they were the business.
In the morning, my head was clear as a bell and I walked off about a quarter of those calories (is that possible ?) on the steps to the castle.
What a town.
*Report to follow when I’ve calmed down