I think I forgot to tell you that our trip to North America was scuppered by the collapse of Primera Air, so I’ll never know how jaywalking in New York compares to Duisburg.
But every cloud, etc. etc. In fact, this Saturday I’ll be meeting Mr Project Calypso himself, and have the honour of driving Simon around the scary gastropubs of West Huntingdonshire. Don’t worry Mark, I’ll grill him about the orange highlighter.
I may make a BRAPA detour into Northants so Si can see the pub glory of Burton Latimer.
Now, I can’t say I haven’t been here before; I did stop to admire the Weetabix factory once, but there were no free samples so it was a short visit.
It’s a working town, boosted by distribution centres to the north but depleted by the death of Rushden & Diamonds FC to the south. Rumours that Rushden offered LifeAfterFootball £100k a week to move from the Cobblers during the Diamonds’s heyday are unfounded.
Those two WMC examples, replete with lovely fonts, are examples of the town’s multitude of clubs, something it has in common with Desborough.
It’s a plain town, so I’ve tried to improve it with filters and a rare use of black and white photography. Perhaps Peter Jackson can turn this blog into a 3D film.
The only buildings that Dick and Dave would linger over are tucked away next to the parish church.
If Burton had a latin motto, it would translate as “Not Oundle“, but I warmed to it, nonetheless.
Particularly when the “revitalised” Duke’s Arms opened, on the dot of 4pm.
You can trust a pub with Mann’s livery. Well, clearly you can’t, they’re normally serving John Smiths Smooth. And I know Mudgie will have something to say about the cushions.
But everything else was pretty much perfect, from the 4pm tradesmen to the Bossa Nova, to Punky Radio night to the, er, eclectic collection of classic albums on the wall.
It reminded me a little bit of the Rock & Roll Brewhouse, but that’s in Brum, not the outskirts of Kettering. And this is very much village pub, albeit the sort you last saw in 1978.
With the sort of 2018 beer choice you just don’t expect in 1978.
The Anarchy was provided with CAMRA discount, quite how he knew I’ve no idea, and was excellent (NBSS 3.5). They sold four pints in ten minutes, which is pretty much the same as in all the Milton Keynes pubs put together.
OK, perhaps after a year you’d grow immune to the appeal of having Nicole’s classic Eurovision winner glued to the wall, but it’s guaranteed one return visit this weekend.