My trips to Burnley haven’t always been successful, setting aside the 6-1 in 2010.
Prosecco preposterousness in Padiham, pole-dancing pubs by the bus station (sorry, no pics) and some drab home-brew from the likes of Reedley Hallows (brewed by Harry Potter).
But I admire their dogged if dull football team, and their generous GBG allocation, which this year includes a genuine country pub in Mereclough. I wish it didn’t.
Pretty setting for the Kettledrum.
And there’s a pub cat, though frankly this might have been from Rawtenstall. Don’t lose sleep, it’s just a cat.
Anyway, I arrive at the end of the lunch session so most tables are empty, but EVERYONE is sitting at the bar or next to it. Why ?
See what I mean. And I had to jump over the Twog to peer over Rapunzel to notice they had a Worsthorne on. Hoorah for Worsthorne !
Wordless service, worthless Worsthorne homebrew* and high table hell. At least it gave me a prime view of the group who then came in and all stood at the bar while one of them ordered. SIT DOWN !. As Tim Booth says (still).
It was a horror show, though I’m sure Mrs RM would have loved it. I looked for somewhere to tip the beer. THREE successive doors that might be the Gents said “STAFF ONLY“, a fourth said “NO ADMITTANCE“. Only the one that said “Toilet” led to the toilets, oddly.
I fought through to the bar to return the glass and say “Thanks”. Not a word. And they were playing Ed Sheeran’s “A-Team”.
*My notes say thin caramel rubbish, competently kept, so NBSS 2.5 to be fair. No-one drinking this would ever ask for cask again.