Oh, look. Oxfordshire has fallen. Yawn.
Not a great county, for sights or suds, and to be honest I did the best of it (Stoke Lyne, Lewknor, Hook Norton itself) years ago. The new entries tend towards the gastro these days.
Anyway, the moral from the last tick, the Crown in Marcham is…don’t follow the WhatPub instructions.
I spent 20 minutes looking for the Crown using the red pin, walking past it twice, as I negotiated every inch of Marcham’s kerbless nightmare.
That pin is the location for 77 year old Doris Chatham of The Green, a modern housing development with scarier dogs than the Greyhound.
Anyway, eventually it clicked. The Crown looked closed to the world, and as the only customer on Friday afternoon I started to wish I’d accepted Doris’s offer of tea and Victoria sponge.
But the welcome was warm, and it’s always a joy to see Otter on the bar. It was OK, NBSS 3 perhaps, but lacking the freshness of a busy pub.
Ahead of the oval ball nonsense, some soap opera nonsense was on the telly box. Probably Neighbours.
I guess this is why plain village pubs are giving up on lunchtimes and opening at 5pm these days.
Without the cheap deals of the chains to pull in gentlefolk, or the destination dining to attract ladies who lunch and their dogs, the plain pub only has a large TV. And so does everyone else now.