IDENTIFYING THE NUMBER FOUR

Bobby

More BRAPA fun on the Wednesday, with Simon by now 12 ticks to the good and none the worse for wear (I’m kidding, he looked terrible).

My first taxi service of the day took us to the eastern extremes of Cambridgeshire, home of my first girlfriend and a Greene King dog called Dave (unconnected).

The Chestnut Tree at West Wratting hadn’t opened early for BRAPA, so we did a mini village tour of potential micro pub sites.

Future micro
Proper dispense

We feared a polite dining pub, which is what I remembered, but got a proper local, proud of their beer and their community focus.

Proper Pub styling, too.

Oddly named loo

Nothing much happened for ten minutes, bar the enjoyment of two cracking pints of the Bo66y I’d suffered in Bishop Auckland (NBSS 3.5).

But clearly the locals had heard tales of a BRAPA visit, and queued up to provide blogworthy material.

Retired gentlefolk pondering menus are generally enough for a blog, but we had the added joy of a West Ham fan asking us to decipher the number 4. If you’ve read “Divergent”, you’ll know that’s code for summat.

And look at the lacings…

More lacings

An unexpected cracker. With a plastic straw fixation, but still a cracker.

26 thoughts on “IDENTIFYING THE NUMBER FOUR

  1. What? You’re surprised at the excellence of the Chestnut Tree??? What rock have you been hiding under in the last few years? It has been your local branch Pub of the Year, as well as winning other branch awards. Some of us have known about this gem of a pub for years.

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    1. Good point, well made. Only been once before, good beer, nice staff. It all clicked last week.

      NB I live under a very big rock called “Never go back to the same pub twice”.

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      1. Somewhat mollified, I may even tell you where I had a truly excellent pint of Bass last Saturday. Hint: it’s the Bedfordshire Pub of the Year, but you’ve probably already been there …

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      2. Well if it isn’t the Black Lion in Buzzard there’s summat wrong !

        Glad to hear you’re a man who can appreciate the subtleties of well kept Bass 👍

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  2. Can I just advise anyone considering giving up drink for two months that four pints of strong beer and a bottle of red wine is not the best way to fall off the wagon.
    Christ it still hurts even by early afternoon.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I enjoyed a cracking pint of the Westgate Brewery’s Bo66y, full bodied and tasty but not well hopped, yesterday in Stafford’s Coach and Horses, an Enterprise Inns ( or Craft Union as some of the pubs are now branded ) pub that I use occasionally as the cask beers are both £2 a pint which makes them better value than in Tim’s Picture House round the corner.

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  4. “home of my first girlfriend and a Greene King dog called Dave (unconnected).”

    In this day and age it’s wise to not let us think otherwise. 🙂

    “Future micro”

    Ancient cattle pound? We’ve certainly come far over the years where we no longer have pounds for cows, horses, or those wily ferrets. 🙂

    “you’ll know that’s code for summat.”

    Everything these days is code for something. 😉

    “With a plastic straw fixation,”

    Hmmm. Pretty sure a number of plastics are biodegradeable. And if incinerated give off CO2, which would solve your recent lack of same! 🙂

    Cheers

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  5. I do like the idea of locals seeing Simon in the distance, and the call going out across the town: “He’s here! He’s here! Get the village oddballs over to the pub, quickly!”

    Had a good laugh at the “proper dispense” caption. 🙂

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    1. Once you’ve had your photo in BEER, all the local oddballs surge toward their local. Si is good for business.

      Should just say the folk in the Chestnut Tree weren’t weird at all, all lovely in fact 😉

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  6. As landlady of The Chestnut Tree just been giving ourselves a late night google, like you do, and found this. Thanks, this really made me laugh after a long day, and summed our little pub up perfectly! As well as the flat cap we have the obligatory loud Geordie, The Welsh (always great value when the rugby is on) fat bloke, owner of smelly dog, our very own Mrs Bouquet, Mr Bean, quite a few named after their favourite tipple, or night of the week they come in, rich farmer, bringer of random metal parts for gawd knows what, growers of strange, and often very large vegetables, bloke with dodgy leg (and a few with dodgy wife!), a Lurch (you rang), an eyeball Paul, oh and chatty lady on bike! Gotta love a proper village local 🙂

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