One day into the new Beer Guide, and already two chapters complete. One is my home county; can you guess the other ? (ten points).
Only one new entry in Cambs this year, and it had to be in Ramsey, didn’t it ? Just about the lowest pub in the Guide, now the Admiral Wells in nearby Holme has dropped out.
Drinking below sea level had a limited novelty factor to be fair. At least you can’t get altitude sickness and lose to Bolivia at darts or something.
He was desperate to go back to Ramsey, so that’s good news. “The beautiful world famous town of Ramsey, famous for its beautiful clock, wide high street and old canal” said Simon.
My last trip was enough to convince me to cancel any plans to retire here. Mrs RM wouldn’t have entertained the idea anyway; she STILL tells people about the time we stopped at the Bengal after seeing Peterborough beat Blackpool 2-1 in the League Cup. 25 years ago !
Their unspeakable crime was to serve cress instead of coriander on our Dhansak. Such atrocities are not easily forgotten.
It’s a plain town, rescued a bit by the Abbey and almshouses. But people still looked at me oddly as I took photos to try to convince you to come here. Twice, on consecutive days.
I arrived just in time to contaminate some photos folk were taking of a wedding (congratulations Shazney and Mark).
Round the corner, the damage caused by Si on his visit was still clearly visible.
It’s not a town of great architectural merit, but there’s a little indoor market, a bigger Tesco, and some quirky little shops you’ll enjoy if you visit. Twice.
25 years ago it would have been a place to get John Smiths Cask at Grand Met boozers like the Three Horseshoes. I bet it gets in the Guide next year with Doom Bar on, just to spite me.
The Angel doesn’t look like the modernised dining pub I expected, walking in from Little Whyte into a giant car park.
In fact, despite lots of hints about new owners taking the pub upmarket, it was pretty much your perfect Fens town boozer.
No diners on a Friday lunchtime. Just a cheery bunch of drinkers who neither stared at me or asked me to explain my mission, but made me feel part of the pub. As it should be.
Quite why I picked the Tydd Steam with its hand-drawn label I have no idea. These things happen. A micro brew with a home-made pump clip on a quiet Friday. What could go wrong ? If it was really bad I could swap it for the keg Bass and protect my tick.
It was lovely. Cool, rich, lasting, NBSS 3.5. I could get bored of all this good beer.
Banter about scampi suppers, and shaving.
“About time you had a shave”
“I started when I was 12” said the hirstute one.
“Golden Brown” by The Stranglers came on. “I know that geezer” said the first bloke. I suspect Hugh Cornwell would have complained about cress in the curry, too.
A child played on the pool table, beating themselves easily. She stopped to say “Bye” as I left. #PubChild.
It felt “Proper Pub”, and outside was the proof.
Three pubs into GBG19, and all crackers. A high bar set for the Guide treasures still to come.
I just had time to explore the market for the benefit of our twitchers.