No, nothing to do with B****t. A post with no pub visit in it brought to you in the interest of historical completeness as Mrs RM gamely sought to provide us with fish and chips on the Northumberland coast*.
In Alnmouth we found the glories of the eponymous bay, and some pretty houses, but no chippy. How do people even live ?
In east Derbyshire you’re never more than 20 metres from fish and chips, apparently. It’s easy to forget how tiny the villages up here past the Wall. Even touristy Alnwick frustrates with its meagre opening hours.
Still, you come for the sunsets , not the shops. And a solitude helped by making you park half a mile up the hill to keep the 305 residents sane.
Yes, there’s a pub.
And if Mrs RM had been driving I’d popped in for a pre-emptive tick of Workie Ticket.
But we’d come for fish. And settled for kippers.
Follow the smoke to the Craster Seafood Restaurant, owned by the smokers themselves.
I was grumpy at not getting to eat chip on the beach, but the kippers and fish stew were gorgeous. Mrs RM mixed her murk with wine, always a bad move.
The banter quotient was low, I suspect the Jolly Fisherman would have had more condiment drama at very least.
I’ll do a comparison with the smokies in Arbroath if you’re good.
*Free marriage guidance – never argue about fish and chips.