On the Sunday I picked up Sis from the pre-booked car park north of Bristol Temple Meads and headed home.
“Anywhere you want to stop on the way” she said.
Funny you should say that. The social club at Stanford in the Vale has the sort of opening hours designed to annoy pub tickers, no train station, and we were going to pass it on the fastest route home. Hurrah !
It didn’t look very open. No cars in the car park. No lights on. The door closed. Sis looked at me as if to say “What was wrong with the posh dining pub on the A420 ?”
But Sis is nothing if not game, and gave the door a push. Inside, a lone local and slightly surprised barman.
Even more surprisingly, NO HOMEBREW.
One of each, as Sis would no doubt wolf down my 6X given half a chance. And two packets of crisps to complete the gourmet feast. £7 the lot. In Oxon.
They were surprisingly good, especially the 6X (NBSS 4). Good work, CAMRA.
Sis summed up the Club. Pool had recently been increased to 20p a go, clean, loads of awards, meat raffle, too quiet.
We didn’t hang about, though I did take a couple of cubes of cheese off the bowls on the bar and stuck a quid in the box for guests.
And just to prove she doesn’t miss a chance, Sis ordered a bottle of Hook Norton’s finest when we stopped at the little farmshop near Stowe.
Never did see the White Horse.