Because you’re worth it (you’re not) a bonus post from boring Buckinghamshire, courtesy of Mrs RM’s glamarous IT job.


According to the Great Spreadsheet, I’d never been to a pub in Chalfont before.

The posh area north of Uxbridge on the A413 is a bit of a mystery, though presumably it’ll be a regular trip for B. Johnson up to Chequers in a few months time.

Mrs RM had a Monday morning meeting with a translation company, probably translating Eton gibberish into BBC friendly slogans.

So after an arduous afternoon with the in-laws, I drove her half the way round the M25 to the Greyhound on Sunday night.

You expect upmarket 14th century coaching inns on the edge of the Chilterns, often with young lads and lasses drinking Peroni outside.

The Greyhound seemed quite pubby, certainly by Bucks standards. Obviously, BRAPA is your go-to for Bucks. Still bar flies and half tables though.

Chalfont Casuals

While Mrs RM reconfirmed all the details she’d already provided by email, I bought her a pint.

Which one sells fastest?” I asked the charming barmaid.

The locals at the bar eyed me suspiciously, as if I’d asked for a bap in Dudley.

It’s a fair bet my question had never been asked before, so bewildered was the response.

Eventually she admitted both beers had been sold that day, so I bought Mrs RM a blonde beer as she’s blonde. I always think she appreciates the casual sexism implied.

Anyway, it was pretty good (NBSS 3+), better than the beer in the nearby GBG Brunning & Pricey, anyway. And the handwash (top) was more than a match.

Sadly I can’t read the pumpclip to put a score in WhatPub, so it’ll never get in the Guide.

As for Chalfont St. P, it ain’t half workmanlike.

But I always appreciate a dingey underpass.


  1. “According to the Great Spreadsheet, I’d never been to a pub in Chalfont before.”

    What about nearby Stoke Poges? And, is that the UK version of the Irish Gaelic version of kiss my arse?

    “Chalfont Casuals”

    Is your table inscribed with a ’53’ so they know where to bring your next pint?

    “so I bought Mrs RM a blonde beer as she’s blonde”

    Blimey. I’d have to buy the missus pints of red ale then. (she’s half native) 😉

    “Sadly I can’t read the pumpclip to put a score in WhatPub, so it’ll never get in the Guide.”

    It’s Watney’s Ray of Sunshine Blonde beer.

    “it ain’t half workmanlike.”

    That would be the opposite of wokemanlike I take it? 😉



    1. Well done Russ. I recall it was of those resurrected beers like Watney’s, Truman and Lacons (probably revive Fuller’s next).

      I don’t even know how to embed pictures in comments so a sterling job.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. “I don’t even know how to embed pictures in comments so a sterling job.”

        Neither do I. I just cut and pasted the html link. (LOL)


        Liked by 1 person

      2. I don’t think the ‘proper’ Watneys (a) did a beer named ‘Ray of Sunshine’, (B) did a ‘Blonde Beer’ or (c) used Cascade, Amarillo or Summit hops.
        But who cares ?

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I only really have two rules in life I follow.
    Never play poker against someone called Doc.
    And if you’re going to sweat like a bastard in a heat wave you might as well do it on a Greek island.
    So you join us sojourning on Rhodes in a marvellous little village called Lindos overlooking a turquoise bay and a mini-Acropolis.
    I booked it on Monday as a surprise thank you for Mrs PP-T for another year of her hard work ensuring that once I retired at 50 I never really had to do another stroke.
    Sound familiar young Martin ?
    We flew from Belfast on a charter – our first in many years – and I can honestly say I’ve never seen a plane so full of bald-headed,tattooed muscular types with pasty faces common of men who have enjoyed time in one of Her Majesty’s sneezers.
    Of course they were probably all teachers rather than Provo knee-cappers but I do like to let my mind wander.
    However, Mrs PP-T thought it advisable I didn’t air my remarkably life-like Ian Paisley impression.
    We struck lucky with the apartment complex.
    No kids,great pool,good bar,decent inexpensive food and no euro-crap music blaring from loudspeakers.
    That’s important to me.
    I once sued a holiday company and won the entire holiday costs back after producing a video I recorded proving that Californication by the Red Hot Chili Peppers was played 36 times in one day very loudly at the pool.
    Anyway this place is a haven of tranquility although it does seem like the entire population of morbidly-obese Geordies are all holidaying at the same time.
    They have certainly had the fishes on the little dishes when the boat came in.
    But when it’s 36 degrees and you’re sweating like a bastard Pie-Tin’s Second Rule comes into play and you cannot beat sound Northerners as holiday companions even if you can’t understand them half the time.
    I just throw in the odd ” wae aye pet ” and everyone seems happy.
    Nothing untoward has happened yet but it’s only the first day and japes and scrapes tend to follow me around like anti-Semitism and the Labour party.
    Herself has already been introduced to the owner of a local and expensive cocktail bar.
    I’ve already been on to the IMF’s Christine Lagarde about opening a line of credit.
    And the day is but young…

    Liked by 2 people

  3. The bar staff varied it occssionally with that Umbrella-ella-ella monstrosity a few dozen times.
    It came on the radio the other day and I nearly kicked to dog into next week in rage.
    There are few things that bring me to the boil quicker than repetitive,loud music.
    Status Quo being an exception,obvs.

    Liked by 1 person

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