retiredmartin

 

It’s a little known fact that men become grumpy when they’re hungry, but women stay calm and phone ahead to find pubs still serving food at 8.30 pm on Monday in the middle of Dark Durham.

“Our cook goes home at 9“.  Our ETA was 8.47.  Hoorah for the Punch Bowl in Edmundbyers, the posh bit of Consett. I never ever said you were a Guardian readers bolt hole or cursed when you were unexpectedly closed for renovation in January when I ended up in Medomsley.

Tucked in a pretty village near Derwent Reservoir, I’m sure Simon will recognise the Punch Bowl from his visit to Rutland last week.

Again folk insist on parking their car outside to ruin my photo. Luckily the pub has commissioned a nice little model which purports to show the Punch Bowl in its unencumbered glory.

Mrs RM, a few drinks up by now, wished me to record the zebra.

I was more impressed by the real fire, in which the Carlsberg beer mat was stubbornly refusing to burn (top photo).

But a bit less taken with the chintzy lounge.

The seating in the bar was unpretentious, the beer from Jarrow and Tyneside good (NBSS 3/3.5) and the cheery barman didn’t need to say “Will you be dining with us tonight ?” as he already knew that.

Sadly, I failed to record the burger and home-made pasta, both superb.  But I did note the Paolo Nutini playing, and the banter from the lone loved-up couple next to us.

It was all about “Business models” and “Economies of scale“. Clearly they were just reflecting on the latest excellent post from Pub Curmudgeon about small brewer duty relief.