You might know me best as an heroic pub explorer and incompetent blogger, but in real life I’m just an unpaid Joe the Taxi (not in a Vanessa Paradis way).
Matt was home from Barcelona (no craft bar ticks) two minutes before saying “Can I go to Cherry Hinton skatepark please“. The lack of a question mark tells you it wasn’t really a question, but grammar is less important than manners. Discuss.
There are better places to wait for your son for two hours than Cherry Hinton*.
Unless you like abandoned chalk pits.
Of five pubs a decade ago, three are closed permanently, and the sole boozer is shut for “refurbishment” before the eponymous Folk Festival next month, leaving just a family diner at the roundabout.
So I set off for Fulbourn.
Past my old NHS offices, past excitingly flat fields,
past the windmill on the “hill”.
and into a genuinely pretty, if fast-expanding Cambs village.
Few pubs have been in the Beer Guide as consistently as the Six Bells over the decades.
I make a quick check – it’s still a Proper Pub.
One large bar with three serving areas, and a public bar rather protected by the regulars, if you know what I mean. I go there anyway, and inadvertently send the barmaid back round the corner for an IPA, hardly hidden treasures.
This is an old school village pub in the same style as my own local, though with a far bigger lunchtime food trade for the Business Park crowd.
Despite never having seen anyone actually play darts here, the public is still an exemplar pub room.
Most folk are in the garden, as we enter the last throes of Summer (joking, I hope).
A perfect summer beer (NBSS 3), in a reprehensible new glass. Copying Adnams again ?
There’s two other pubs in the village, both Greene King, one a gastro monstrosity. The Baker’s Arms was the sort of place you’d go after work for a drink before that sort of thing was made illegal. I even had an interview for a job there over a pint of IPA.
Clearly an act of Satan has caused a change of name to Hat & Rabbit, recalling a hilarious event in April 1967 the older locals still laugh about. It’s just finding its feet again after a period of closure, but it was too quiet to peep in and be nosey tonight.
The stroll back past one of Cambridge’s 27 Tesco stores isn’t a classic. Cambridgeshire hasn’t really caught the “deface public buildings and call it street art bug” yet. This specimen dates back to the famous song written in 1892 about the bicycle craze sweeping the Fens.
Back to Cherry Hinton, a large village devoid of pub life, but with plenty of takeaways and gambling opportunities.
Plenty of potential sites for future micros though.
I got back to the skate park two minutes late. You’d have thought it was two hours.
*If you haven’t seen the earlier Cherry Hinton post before, be warned it contains London Boys.