You’ll notice a theme in this blog; the more I learn, the less I learn. Having been served beer soup with scum in it in the name of localism, I really should have taken the hint and stuck to mega brews.
There were enough of those in the Sun in Dunfold, a pub with a sign clearly drawn by the village cat (top).
It’s another pretty village in the built-up Surrey/Sussex borderlands, with vast greens and barns stocked with enough Bollinger to see them through the war with Russia.
It’s a comforting looking village pub, retaining the much-loved Friary Meux sign and a sense that craft beer is some decades off.
Actually, this was a charming village pub with stone floors, real fire, fresh flowers and middle-aged men in leather jackets. And excellent service, including a landlady who recognised my presence with a “Won’t keep you a minute love“. Makes all the difference.
You’re going to ask yourself how I resisted the Pedigree, aren’t you ? I just didn’t want to be disappointed, that’s all.
Another pub where those pathetic jam jars are absolutely pointless, unless you really are supposed to use them as samplers.
Perhaps it was the “10p from every pint goes to protecting ears of corn from mice” message that made me go local. Anyone ever heard of/seen Tillingbourne beers ?
One of those cases where the pub is making a decent job of a dull beer. Not unpleasant, not “Donnington” bad, just a bit homebrew buttery. I didn’t finish it, anyway. But I bet you some CAMRA folk post-revitalisation will declare Pedigree BAD, local beer GOOD.
More Proper Pub credentials, four old boys playing cards,
the gentlefolk splitting the bill,
and the dog walkers arguing over whether to have pudding, based on the relative calorific contents of the Banoffee pie and donuts.
None of them looked like they would explode if they caved in and went for the Banoffee pie. I left before they reached their momentous decision.