Richard loved West Dorset, and CAMRA magazines, so this next post is for him. Quite what he’d have made of the Rose & Crown in Longburton I can only guess.
The village is strung out along the A352 on its meandering way down toward the Cerne Abbas Giant, a giant who clearly drank Draught Bass.
Church, attractive village artwork and equally straggly pub, side by side.
Everyone was dining. It felt like one of those chintzy gastros you get in posh Lancashire.
Nothing wrong with that, as long as the drinker is welcome and given a nice Laura Ashley armchair to rest in.
Of course Richard woul love the range of (mainly strong) beers you’ve never heard of.
and the high quality floral presentation at the bar.
The music was desperately naff pop, the bants was desperately dull domestic disputes, and the Shield Wall bobbed along in a chilled, thin, unconvincing manner at NBSS 2.5.
“Shudda gone to the brewery tap in Lyme Regis”
I can hear Richard saying. And he’s right, of course. But then Richard was never a ticker, he enjoyed his pubs.