Hoorah ! for pre-emptive micro pub ticks in rural Hertfordshire !
Hoorah ! for completely inappropriate pictures of Ullage in church graveyards !
And Hoorah ! for places like the Reading Room which serve proper pub food like scotch eggs with posh piccalilli and chocolate cake (Spoiler: We had neither).
Pubmeister seems to have a sixth sense for places like these, which he fitted in on his way back to his luxury pad in Luton. The same nose for novelty takes him to 11th division reserve matches on Sark.
The Reading Room has (almost) homebrew with pumpclips you can read, a real novelty.
But never mind that. It was a corker of a Proper Pub. Proper seating at the bar, cosy armchairs at the rear near the top reading material.
Two Old Boys were ribbing the Landlady, themselves and probably us.
“I love this job, especially the regular customers“.
“When do they get here ?” said the regular customers.
We were told we needed to look upstairs, so we did. It’s a cracker.
Suddenly, the Landlady’s schoolchildren came in with their mates and started on their L
atin homework board games.
It was a bit of a magic moment, as the pub felt lived in with people from every age band. I’m often put off micro pubs by their exclusionary policies (formal or informal); this felt incredibly welcoming.
Duncan couldn’t quite prise an NBSS score out of the twelve year olds, disappointingly (they were keener on the gin), but as we left he said “Nice”.
And it was.