For those of you wondering when you’ll get the chance to read what really happened to BRAPA in the Fens, I’ll be there by tomorrow.
First, a foray into northern Derbyshire, one of our most reliably pubby areas.
Flags Lodge, where I was greeted by an owner in a pyjamas, is an Ian Clarkson cultured hoof from the site of Saltergate stadium. That’s rather further than the Spirerites new ground that has been their home, Darlington like, as they plummet down the leagues.
I left pyjama man to his evening and headed west. You’re certainly getting into the dark skies by the time you reach the Nag’s Head, pleasingly given a Newbold heading in the Guide even though Whittington Moor is shown under the town heading (this year).
One glance to the left tells you this is Proper Pub territory, where folk lovingly admire the head on their Carling.
Rather like the Devonshire Arms in Burton, this is an honest village boozer rather than a “CAMRA pub“, the only difference being you can’t take your pint of Pentrich Stout into a curry house next door like you can in Brewtown.
At the bar I was called “M’duck” and “M’lovely“, a sure sign you’ve reached The North.
A pub to come with your mates, rather than sitting quietly in the corner with a book, perhaps.
“Black magic woman” and “Hallelujah” typified the musical choice. Classy.
Getting boring now, but great cool, rich beer; January is a cracker of a month.
So where’s the spire, you ask ?
Well, here’s one BeerMat took earlier. Since I promoted his post at the top I’m entitled to nick it. Shame he was wobbling when he took it and made the spire look wonky.