One instinctively knows that BRAPA will have great fun with blog titles when he eventually gets to North Lincolnshire.
I finished the county at Owston Ferry, in what’s commonly known as “the posh bit twixt Donny and Scunny“, if only in the sense you’ll see the odd person on horseback and a depressing lack of graffiti. An area yet to be penetrated by craft beer or micro pubs, which alone must make it the most desirable place to live in the UK.
I arrived to find the village lazing about on the river, as temperatures hit 26 degrees.
And turned up at the wrong pub again, never for one moment suspecting there’d be two pubs for a thousand people. I’d have popped in the White Hart but the thought of warm York Guzzler fills me with dread.
The surprised Landlord was still setting up so I had a good nosey. It’s a vast rambling pub, the antidote to all the square boxes I have to go in these days.
It took two seconds to see the advert for Rick Reed and know you’re in a Proper Pub.
A weird combination of plush sofas and bench seating won’t please the purist, but it works for me and the average Owstonian (?).
It’s possible that Rick Reed was going to be miming to his ’78s, played on the pub’s cutting-edge HiFi.
Sadly the James Last album was in that dreadful modern format and had been turned into a clock.
At the bar, I had a tricky choice. Would Doom Bar be imbued with magical qualities by being served so close to the Trent ?
Probably not, and the Milestone Black Pearl is a gem (see what I did there ?).
Our Landlord pulled through a good three pints worth, and made two corrective trips down to the cellar before it poured. That gave me time to make best friends with a Guinness drinker who then decided to give the Pearl a go ! THIS is what CAMRA is about, folks, not discounts.
We enjoyed our rich, thick pints (NBSS 3+) outside on the bank, moaned about the heat, and spoke of a mythical pub across the river.
It may be quiet, you may no longer be able to get a ferry across to the fleshpots of East Ferry, but as the sun beat down on my pint, Owston Ferry momentarily looked the best place under the sun.