Well, not quite Wantage, exactly, but Letcombe Regis,which I predict only Tim Thomas and Duncan have ever heard of.
It feels daft to say it’s the posh suburb of Wantage, which isn’t exactly Wigan, but that’s how it feels. What Pub tells me the closest pub is the all-conquering Royal Oak, as good a boozer as you’ll get in the Home Counties.
Just look at these houses near the Greyhound.
And a rather gorgeous churchyard.
The Greyhound looks just as you’d expect, and your friends who don’t like scary boozers hope that all pubs are like this.
Three more beers the average punter will never have heard of (and I bet you’ve only seen the Salopian once this year)
As I take my half of Ramsbury (surprisingly not the Gold) on a tour, I’m getting a sense of “Oxfordshire dining pub” deja-vu, all over again.
It was a struggle to find a table that wasn’t set for dining, so I took the seat nearest the bar, where absolutely nothing happened for 12 minutes, I need Simon’s patience.
To be fair, it was a decent half (NBSS 3) with a proper scummy head, as they say round here.
And some decent lacings,
The “banter” was all about cruises, and a lady holding court to a group of gentlefolk shouting “I haven’t finished my funny story“. Madam,it wasn’t funny.
Elsewhere, tales of knocking £2k off the asking price and a group confirming they had a reservation for four. “Us three. And the dog. Don’t forget the dog“.
How could we forget the dog ? It was bigger than me.