Getting towards the end of the Sussex chapters in the Guide now, and a long-awaited return to lovely Bognor Regis, which shows you King George V and I weren’t separated at birth.
Geographical purists (which I sense is all you) will no doubt this is Middleton-on-Sea not Bognor. Judge for yourself. It’s a 40 minute walk from the Butlins of your nightmares (that’s my Mum’s memory of it from 1979).
You’ll be delighted to know the thing “Due to open Late 2014” was a bypass, not a micro.
Anyway, Middleton looks a smart retirement suburb, with this yacht-shaped house the pick of an attractive development.
I’d assumed the Cabin was a micro; I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Groups of Old Boys clearly holed up for the entire Summer (possibly lasting till October 2021) were sinking pints on purple tables in the sun and discussing oil prices, while toddlers ran around in the bar discussing stolen packets of Haribos.
At the bar I applauded the well-known beers (that’s the 3rd time I’ve seen Liberation this month) but recoiled from the pointless jam jars.
It’s a traditional estate pub without frills but with a pleasing “lived-in” feel.
I have no idea what this toilet art is about. No doubt Russ will have a guess.
There’s a bit of a social club feel despite some healthy seafood trade. It’s the sort of place you get along the Essex coast (looking at you Parkestone), which normally means some good beer.
And the Liberation, all the way from Jersey, was cool and fruity and clearly benefitted from the Doom Bar glass (NBSS 3+).
Not quite good enough to persuade me to book a holiday back at Butlins, mind.