I tried again. It’s a pretty little stone village, clearly still at war with West Thirston just over the bridge, with its gastro pretensions and sports cars.
Felton has the street art,
the mobile chip van,
the lock-up for craft beer enthusiasts,
and the cutesy Running Fox Café that I was convinced was the micro last time out. See how easy it is to be confused;
The Good Book said 5pm opening, but you and me know better than to believe the GBG, so I walked to the sewage works and back (#LivingTheDream) so I could be there at the door on the right on the dot of six and beat the crowds.
“What you after” said a man as I stood in the middle of what was clearly a café.
“Er, a micropub ?”
Of course, it was downstairs, hence the Den. This was the view at the bottom. Obviously, it was locked. Not again.
Just then a lady came down the stairs towards me in the dark. And nearly screamed.
Why are so many pubs so surprised to see me ?
Anyway, misunderstandings and heart attacks over, I was in.
It’s a gem.
Not just because it looks like you’re drinking in yer Gran’s, but because your Gran is standing there next to you chatting about the heatwave/drought/impending snow.
A real local for people who just want a drink rather than posh food (nothing wrong with posh food in a restaurant).
Some local beers I’d never heard of (no doubt Richard has), but I went for Belhaven, the macro choice.
I’m not suggesting there’s a Northumbrian micro cartel, but these beers cost £2.80 a pint as well, which I’d suggest disproves the myth that cask has to cost £4.27 to preserve the future of real ale. Anyway, a few pennies in Greene King’s coffers for this excellent 80/ (NBSS 3.5).
“Is it something we said ?” said my new drinking buddies as I shot off.
No, I just wanted to catch the chip van before it headed back to Newbiggin-by-the Sea.