Coming towards the end of Berkshire now, always a cheery county, with the one obvious exception you’ll know by now.

Off to Winkfield’s Squirrels, which looks awfully like Cranbourne to me on the map.

Winkfield, really ?

Situated between Windsor and Ascot and open all day, I was expecting something a bit twee and gastro.

Far from it. The Squirrels is a bit of the East End,without the pretentiously priced Scotch eggs.

Handbags on the bar always a good sign

At 4pm half a dozen retired gentlefolk sitting at the bar interrupt their banter to say hello and tell me Debbie is in the cellar. I do like not being ignored in pubs.

There’s the sort of extensive beer choice I like to see too.


It’s a long bar area with plenty of seating choice, so I plonk myself down next to the laptop directing the Christmas music. Probably “Stop the Cavalry” or the theme from “Die Hard“, who knows ?


The Smuggler was cool, rich and tasty, a good NBSS 3+, but it was the pubby atmosphere that made this yet another Berkshire winner.

There’s some excellent debate about pubbiness and micro pubs in the comments  on Richard Coldwell’s latest post (here), and the Squirrels is the sort of place folk still go to chat rubbish over a beer, without worrying about its provenance and hopping rates.

You watch that League of Gentlemen last night ?”     “I still don’t get it

Not a patch on Mrs Brown’s Boys, that’s class that is

Followed by a forensic analysis of the merits of Fawlty Towers, ‘Allo ‘Allo et al.

It’s all in the best.. possible taste !”   “Who was that then ?

Who was the rabbit man ?”

You get the idea. A bunch of mates yapping endlessly about nothing.  Brilliant.

NB What’s the protocol here ?  As a stranger, are you allowed to shout out “Rod Hull” as you leave the pub.  I didn’t.

Proper fire













    1. Yep. Not for me, and the idea of reviving anything from 15 years ago so middle class blokes can shout tired catchphrases at the telly fills me with horror. Like Dylan fans calling out for “Blowing in the wind” at gigs.


  1. Rod Hull was the rabbit man ?
    I thought he had an emu.
    Off-hand I can’t think of any entertainer famous for having his arm up a rabbit’s arse.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “Winkfield, really ?”

    I get the confusion but you see, Cranbourne is a village within the civil parish of Winkfield. 🙂

    “Followed by a forensic analysis of the merits of Fawlty Towers, ‘Allo ‘Allo et al.”

    What, no Monty Python?

    “Proper fire”

    From that photo it looks like you could have availed yourself of a free phone; unless of course it was yours to begin with. 🙂



  3. I don’t like pubs with second hand domestic furniture in them. Well loved, quality hide Chesterfield’s in classic colours, maybe. But not the sort of stuff cheapskate landlords furnish their rented accommodation with.


  4. ah the Cranbourne / Winkfield issue is a thorny one. Sometimes you will see that settlement listed as North Street (as a settlement name) too. I don’t know if you know but Winkfield used to be one of the largest parishes in the south of England before Bracknell cut bits of it off. Obviously St Peters C is only Victorian whereas St Mary W goes back a long way – Henry VIII had the vicar put to death for holding Anabaptist sympathies I think? All sorts of strange boundaries around there: SL4 SL5 for a start and the Bracknell Forest, Windsor & maidenhead councils boundaries.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. LOL
      Yes I spent much of my childhood next to a pub called the Fleur de Lys in Winkfield (or Cranbourne) and as a teenager worked in some of the pubs around there: the Old hatchet, the Slug and Lettuce (before that name became a chain), the Cricketers in Warfield etc

      Liked by 1 person

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