I see young BRAPA is back in Cornwall, no doubt whining about the rain and justifying his use of taxis.
No such problem for me in another smart dining pub tantalisingly out of range of the average P. Docker.
Cosheston is situated on an inlet of the Daugleddau estuary, says Wiki, which is easy for it to say.
Not many people walk here, I’ll wager. The pashmina set miss out on some of the highest hedges outside of South Somerset.
Access by dinghy is a bit challenging at the moment, but this week’s rain should sort that out.
The one thing you can guarantee about a pub called the Brewery Inn is that it won’t have a brewery. It’s the law.
The foliage gives away a lot too.
Restaurant to the left, bar to the right.
“Can I HELP you sir” says a man who appears from nowhere to impede my progress.
I’m obviously supposed to say “Table for 2, retiredmartin” rather than
“Sorry to intrude I was hoping I could possibly get a beer“.
I know Simon gets that as well.
The two gents running the place were charming, and I warmed to the genteel atmosphere even if it did remind me a bit of Stockport’s Arden Arms.
What could be better than watching Owen Jones accompanied by a decent NBSS 3.5 drop of Rev James in an elegant glass. Not much.
Well, only the first Norah Jones CD. Switched to silent.