I rarely look back, there’s no ticks in it. But my next pub is my local, a monthly visit at best, and I suddenly remembered what it looked like a year ago today (top).
This last week we needed sun screen, but it’s back to reality today.
A year on the Sun was looking no less splendid, despite this dreadful “Match the flag to a country” competition.
The fireplace has never been on in my lifetime, by the way.
During the week the trade is mainly in the Public, but the Lounge gets a good mix of village trade at weekends. Mrs RM knows EVERYONE.
Plenty of younger folk* drinking the real ale, with not a plate of fish and chips in sight. The Sun is virtually wet these days, and I saw a dozen pints of cask pulled the 20 minutes we were there.
They’ve just started selling the local beers too, thanks to those lovely Punch people.
Oh, and the one brewed by the evil Chiswick sell-outs.
Because I have to be honest with you, the Pegasus had a slightly odd buttery taste that Mrs RM didn’t warm to, so I had to help with her pint. But she managed the Hophead, one of the best examples I’ve had for ages (oddly, the best since Hendon). By far the most popular beer on the bar, too.
Those hot nuts always help with the NBSS, mind (it’s a 4).
*Younger generally = a year older than Mrs RM, but here I mean under 40s.