I woke bright and early on my birthday, ready to face the world. Starting with the gentlefolk outside Booths in Kirkby Lonsdale. It’s a very Booths & Barbour sort of place.
But very polite they were, and smiled at the Father Christmas murdering “Fairytale of New York”.
This is a town that scored highly in Pub Curmudgeon’s small town poll this year, as well as being a favourite of my drinking/curry buddy Charles.
I confess it’s passed me by, there never seemed a lot to it, bar the Orange Tree.
And a superlative view that some bloke called Ruskin has trademarked.
Sure, pleasant old coaching inns, starched cafes, and as many ironmongers as any town needs. A bit twee, I think the word is. Genteel may be another one.
Both of those fit the local microbrew tap, the Royal Barn.
With it’s giant, er, barn-like openness and scatter cushions Mrs RM would have loved it. She might even be getting some inspiration for conversion potential for another barn.
You can tell the calibre of a place by the colour of the scarf a gentleman wears to it.
Actually, it had a bit of worn-in character, having previously been used as a lock-up for dissenters against craft in the 17th century.
Today the crimes are against music, with a soundtrack of the Corrs and Tracy Chapman to accompany a huge workforce putting up Christmas decorations (on 22/12 ?).
“An upmarket, improved, Brewhouse and Kitchen” I thought, self-assuredly.
The Gold was very good, cool and rich (NBSS 3.5). Beer isn’t always that great in a Brewery Tap, particularly when they fluff it out with gins and gingerbread men.
If only they’d given me a drink and a cake free, AS IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY.