Oooh. Rare Hothouse Flowers reference there. Second LP, the one that Clarkson owns.
I haven’t quite got the full picture of Christchurch yet, but it’s clearly a popular place. Three of the four folk I spoke to at breakfast were considering a move there.
It reminds me a bit of Abingdon, though neighbouring Bournemouth is no Oxford. Apart from the Priory, it lacks great architecture, but looks the part on a sunny February morning when you’re not working.
Attractive church, good for twitchers and sailors, half the price of Sandbanks.
And quite a lot of curry.
The centre has a bit more substance than Eastleigh, but feels a bit outdated. Most of the visitors are gentlefolk who like it that way.
There’s one craft beer bar, and what appeared to be a Dire Straits themed micro.
The cultural highlight seems to be a visit from Dennis Wise next week. I hope Dennis can fix that Kevin Rowland style moustache before then.
I was only wandering round town for half an hour before the trip to Wool, but I succumbed to the questionable charms of the Thomas Tripp, a pub so unremarkable I declined to bore you with it after my visit back in August. I’m all heart.
There’s so few Ringwood* (or Badger or Palmers) outlets in the Guide you can justify revisits. Last year I found a busy dining pub filled with 30-somethings with cardigans listening to jazz, and an average pint of Best.
This time it looked a bit spartan, and the Six Nations tat (and Rugby World Cup 2015 inflatables) does it no favours. Edwyn Starr sang “War”, and for the next month it really will be a battle to find a southern pub without rugger bores on a Saturday. Just ask Si.
The Best was marginally better on Monday lunchtime (NBSS 3+). My notes say “robust“, whatever that means.
Still too many high tables to be pubby, though the Old Boys at the bar were suggesting this is as pubby as it gets in Christchurch.
But of course, a dreadful toilet pun can rescue the dullest of dull dining pubs. Ladies and Gentleman, I give you…
*Yes I know it’s Marston’s but you know what I mean.