OK, I’ll accept “Mistaken for film crew” isn’t quite as exciting as “Locked in Victoria Park” or “Gatecrashing craft weddings in Dulwich“, which were highlights a year ago. But this is Northumberland, not trendy London. Things are more sedate up here.
We arrived just after opening, greeted by the entire pub staff staring at us. Mrs RM’s driving really isn’t that bad.
Parked up well away from the starers, we admired the village green.
As I approached the bridge over the stream, I had the impression of being followed.
Sure enough, I was being followed. By a bloke with a camera and a boom mike. I made for the pub.
“What yer doing” said the principal starer. Ah, they thought I was film crew.
“I’m playing the part of BRAPA in a film about the battle against craft keg” I said.
We had a little laugh about that.
A bit more geared up for food than the Swinburne, but none of that “Will you be dining with us” stuff here either. And no rushing me to choose between the beers. Those Cross Bay folk get around, don’t they ?
But I had the Wylam Tankard from down the road, of course. Another two ticks (NBSS 3.5) in the book, and those half pint glasses are growing on me.
It wasn’t really cold enough to stand by the fire but I did anyway, just so I could say “Nice fire” to the landlady.
Something for everyone here. Viz back issues for Cooking Lager, classic rock for Pub Curmudgeon,
and some interesting artwork in the Gents for Satan.
Mrs RM chose to sit it out again, rather than drink Frobishers, so missing out on the Belinda Carlisle she would have chosen.
The folk here were really chatty, once they got over the disappointment that I wasn’t doing a film about all the pubs with “Bull” in the title of something.
I asked the landlord, seen below tasting his own beer, if Dryanuary was hitting them hard.
“Oh, folks round here don’t fall for that nonsense !”
The TV crew were still outside when I rejoined Mrs RM. I think they thought I was BRAPA.