A rare bit of non-Beer Guide travel for you, as we attempted to cheer up a youngest son now unable to wind up an absent elder brother by playing death metal at inhuman volumes.
The last two Saturdays we’ve taken Matt to a new skatepark at Potton, apparently built as part of an ongoing experiment by Bedfordshire Council to expand their tourist pitch beyond “the bit between Cambridge and Oxford“.
Potton’s motto is probably “We’re not as scary as Sandy“, but then they haven’t got great piles of sand or clangers or a Beer Guide entry, either. Your choice.
Never mind, you don’t necessarily need a Beer guide entry, or your own microbrewery to be a proper town, and we gave Potton every chance to impress, though I admit after 3 hours we were hoping for the rain to put an end to Matt’s mammoth skate session.
Here’s the quiet market square at 3pm.
And here’s the architectural highlights, most of them pubs. Greene King pubs.
Here’s the abandoned train station for fans of Beeching.
And here’s a TV aerial that you can’t climb.
We thought the Rising Sun looked the best bet with seven (7) beers on, because as you know the best pubs have the most beers on. I’ve been told.
Here they are;
Seven on cask, craft kegs, and several ciders. You might wonder how a small village dining pub can get through that many beers. It would be a good question.
Boak & Bailey have been singing the praise of the Youngs Ordinary, so I went for that. It was a solidly OK afternoon pint (NBSS 3), but you could see why the pub has been edged out of the Guide recently in favour of places selling Bass.
Despite my reservations about ale turnover, a White Stripes/Killers soundtrack, Baylis and Harding soap, and a wasted opportunity to have Draught Bass served from the ancient well, there was a pleasant bunch of pubgoers (and diners) keeping it ticking over at 4pm. An efficient all-rounder.
In fact, the whole town was thoroughly cheery, though I passed on the opportunity to take in Potton United Reserves at the Hollow. My loss.
Back in the market square, things had steamed up, with an unannounced parade of vintage vehicles seemingly doubling the town population in minutes.
To celebrate these events, the Coach House served Doom Bar in plastic glasses. The regulars at the George & Dragon got their Abbot in a glass. It was all very jolly and English.
In Royston Street, the goblins population looked on.