What enters your head when you enter a pub and see the scene above ?
- Get out the ******* way
- What’s wrong with sitting at tables anyway ?
- Ooh, is that “Side Pocket For A Toad” ?
All 3 from me as I finish the Luton Airport mini-crawl in the Fox at Darley Hall. There’s actually a bar with real ale from Greene King at the airport, and it opens at 3am, which might even be early enough for Stafford Mudge.
The Fox is a plain village pub that also seems to be the village, existing mainly for the benefit of plane tickers (somewhere below twitchers on the sociopathic scale).
Anyway, it’s the “Most Improved” pub in the branch, which often means they’ve added some homebrew to the IPA.
I squeeze in between the barflies blocking the pumps and the man with G&T, (like the Specials song) my second G&T of the week. Gin lasts longer than cask, remember.
Now,the photo below may look like one of those staged shots from a naff holiday brochure from 1977, but I assure you it’s real.
I couldn’t read the pumps, but I can makeout the Tring clip a mile away. Rubbish name, distinctive design.
Actually, I went for the 3 Brewers from St Albans first. It had just gone.
“Ooh, have to be quicker than that mate, beer here sells like hotcakes” said GinMan. Why weren’t you drinking it, then ?
The beer was really good (NBSS 3.5), the pub is cheery, the locals chatty. Sadly, the seating is a massive letdown.
Without anywhere suitable to sit, I took my half out to the chickens, and contemplated challenging them to a game of 5 a side.
Duncan would, no doubt, have recorded it as a new ground.