Yes, still on Bucks, still banging on about barflies. This one has a cruel twist.
BRAPA finished Bucks last year, and has decided he’s not going back till he’s finished the Scottish Islands and Devon, sometime in 2041.
That means he’ll miss the joy of Fever-Tree Gastropubs like the Lowndes Arms, which looks like a suburb of Milton Keynes in the GBG. BUT IT ISN’T.
Whaddon is barely a village, but a pretty one in the eternal sunshine of our spotted minds. I’m spending too long in church graveyards at the moment, reading headstones.
The Lowndes is half-way to attractive, spoilt by banners and (much worse) “Bottomless Brunch” offers written on the walls. They don’t desecrate their black and white buildings in Herefordshire.
I enter to polite R’n’B and the unmistakable stench of Christmas. But does it feel like a Proper Pub inside ?
“Please take a blanket” is perhaps the most off-putting thing you can read in a pub, after “Ask for a taster“.
I mentally calculate I can bear to be in here for about seven minutes. I’m no BRAPA.
At the bar, a group of Fever-Tree folk, and obligatory scary dog, are bar-blocking, deciding whether they should sit down for their lunch or just stand there debating craft gin. I’m amazed they didn’t ask for tasters.
Then it happened.
“Move out the way, you’re stopping the Old Boy getting his beer”
I looked around for the old codger, then realised Leicester Tigers shirt man was talking about me !
It comes to us all, I guess.
I wish I could tell you the Tring beer was either nectar or nettles, but it was a cool and floral load of nothing (NBSS 2.5), and only took me six minutes to down.
Opposite me a chap was nursing an innocent smoothie (or perhaps it was guilty) and pummeling away on his laptop. Our “Fever-Tree Four” were still standing at the bar, debating where to sit.
retiredmartin 
I thought you would have realised after a lifetime living down there that’s how Rugger people talk. Their pub habits are a bit like their code of rugby too; they talk about it a lot but only actually turn up in numbers to the big events. To them the pub analogy side of things means Christmas, New Year, Birthdays, Sunday lunch and the occasional lunch out in the week. They do not turn up day in day out, week after week to support the cause unless it’s a test match.
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Best sum-up of ruggerers ever.
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There are of course some die hard RFU fans who support their local teams week in week out, at all levels of the game, who are the back bone of the code and these people I respect.
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Not in Wales, Scotland, Ireland and the West Country for the Union guys, nor along the M62 corridor for the Leaguers either, I think you’ll find.
I don’t follow either, but I’ve come to see that the pubs near these grounds have a similar trade pattern to those near soccer grounds elsewhere.
But, yes, in absolute terms the following is far smaller.
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Please do not confuse RL with RFU. Many RL fans would be offended. RL is a local game for local people. We don’t get a photograph in the broadsheets, even for the Challenge Cup or GF, just a couple of column inches whilst RFU coverage wastes several trees per day.
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I am more than aware of the distinction Richard, believe me.
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“Soccer” ? Get in the sea.
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It’s the same public school patois as “rugger”. Glad you spotted that, Martin.
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There is NOTHING worse than turning up at an open plan Home Counties GBG pub when England are playing “rugby”. Just ask Si.
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I had a long hold up there when the bar staff were taking trays of drinks through to the other room for a party of Prosecco drinkers. Old Boy status will be officially confirmed when you go to football and (1) get asked if you are a concession then (2) it’s assumed you are. First happened to me last season, second this.
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And believe me on this, readers, Duncan looks under 50.
Which is good going for someone who’s been visiting pubs since 1972.
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50 Stone
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50 stone is the weight of those GBGs you lug around with you.
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Or substitute “bar” for “football” and “Camra member” for “concession”.
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“Old Boy ” -made me laugh out loud -occasionally Mr Tyke is offered a seat on the tube which I also find amusing -I am a tad older than him & it never happens to me -not turned into an old prune yet !
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I bet that’s a mixed blessing for you !
I was horrified. Never get that in Proper Pubs.
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Is the definition of a “Proper Pub” anywhere with customers older than you are?
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That’ll do, though absence of visible Prosecco, Pashminas and rugby union fans a bonus.
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So you’ll be avoiding pubs with pashmina wearing, prosecco swilling, rugby fans then?
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When you get to my age “young man” is just as irritating as “no problem” and “enjoy your pint” – and “darling” or “love” from a barmaid – because you know they don’t mean it.
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How about “Bud” or “Comrade” or “M’Duck” – they OK ?
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No.
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Despise Bud – never tasted a Comrade or M’Duck.
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There is something angering about the term “bottomless brunch,” even if I can’t explain precisely why!
This one is among my all-time faves of yours– so many delightful moments. I felt sure that “in the eternal sunshine of our spotted minds” was going to be the line I liked best, until I got to “the unmistakable stench of Christmas.” 🙂 And yes, the ‘Move out the way’ bit was priceless.
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Just as you picture the scene here, I found myself thinking “What would Simon think” just as I entered. Of course, 99% of visitors would think “Hmm, nice old pub, blankets (it wasn’t cold), “bottomless brunch”, artisan gin, lovely”. It’s the “Polite Society” pub that drives me mad. There’s been a few too many of these in the Home Counties; I guess they add local beers for effect and then get in the Guide.
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Mark,
Maybe it’s that it’s an anagram of Burtons belch most
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You should have just taken a blanket home with you. It clearly states to take one.
Surely a bottomless brunch would just fall through itself due to the fact it has no bottom to contain itself.
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Not been to boozers in Bucks…are there any proper ones??
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Dick and Dave mentioned one near Chequers (PM’s bolt hole) but count on one hand.
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Not worth a jaunt?
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Do you like foie gras ?
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You’ve made my mind up!!!
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