retiredmartin

Back on the road again, and a first trip to Pershore since a night in the very odd Wood Norton  conference facilities (£25 if I recall, an all-time bargain).

The Vale of Evesham, a bit like the Vale of Pewsey, gets short shrift from tourists. Apart from Pub Curmudgeon and me, who had mixed feelings on Evesham‘s blend of beauty and dereliction last year.

You can get a sense of Pershore by looking at the “list of people from” section on Wiki.  Folk called Hugh, Claude, George and Giles were born there, while the great Toyah (inspiration for my post title) lives here now.  I didn’t see her; she’s no doubt bracing herself for a meeting with Simon at the Blackpool Punk Festival. Ieyaaaaa..

What a lovely place it is.  I nearly gatecrashed a wedding at the Abbey, but it didn’t look like a craft wedding.

Compared to Evesham, Pershore feels grander, and older, though just as unlikely to prompt that detour from the National Trust properties to the east.

It’s not as smart as the Abbey suggests, despite the most aggressive floral campaign since the last Royal wedding,  The Pickled Plum, alone, has escaped the foliage.

There’s no denying it’s a good all rounder, in the sense of balancing some smartish dining trade with old boys on the lager and oddballs on coke and squash.

“Is that normal water in the squash”  said Snowflake No.1

“What else would it be ?”

“Oh”

Mr Squash had been off the booze for two months, apparently, due to “enzymes”, which I thought was a hardcore metal act.

“It’s no good.  If I start on the beer I can’t just have one”

Obviously folk who pay 80p for squash keep the electricity meter ticking over, but they don’t do much to keep the six real ales and six ciders in best shape.

I always feel obliged to go for the Wye Valley in the West Country.  As here (HPA NBSS 2.5) It always disappoints; nearly always due to insufficient turnover in smart pubs.

But of course there will folk who will come in and note “Six wickets !” with glee.

I find a posing table in view of an Arsenal team being thumped (sadly, by Chelsea), admire the beams, and tolerate the cover versions of Adele “classics”.

Elsewhere the town is now bereft of the Brandy Cask brewpub; converted into town houses.  It was a lively place, much like Hasting’s FILO, and with homebrew of the same quality.

Elsewhere, all is flowers.

The Angel Hotel had the best entrance, and promised a lone Spitfire.

When micropubs arrive in Pershore, you’ll know they’re here to stay.

South over the Avon to another newbie, Elmley Castle’s Queen Elizabeth.  This falls into the category of Guide entry called “Owned by the community and therefore worthy of recognition“.

Lovely village, great walking, more poor Wye Valley (NBSS 2) in a dining pub with few drinkers.

One day I will make it to the Monkey House.

But never mind pubs.  The real question is;

Is this a cat or a seal ?