Saturday was my big “Greater Plymouth” exploration day.
A walk to St Budeaux, a train to Bere Ferrers, a ferry to Wilcove and a hop round Plymouth suburbs to make some serious (pink) dents into Page 116 of the Guide.
So what of St Budeaux, I hear you ask ?
Not a lot. Quite floral, like a southern suburb of Luton. Don’t change your holiday plans.
In the only café I looked in, an Americano was £3.40, which is Totnes prices. So I got a takeaway from the Locale version of Greggs.
As I paid, the lady gave me a voucher for a quid off my next Cornish pasty.
Well, be rude not to, I thought, and asked for the medium (I’m not an animal like some pub bloggers).
“That’s for your next visit !” she said, defiantly.
So I walked out and walked in again, triumphantly. It’s probably on CCTV or Plymouth Crimewatch.
Still cost £2.50, mind.
Slightly worse value than the £3.30 for an 18 minute trip over the Tamar to Bere Ferrers. The train was packed with party animals on their way to Gunnislake, and I only just got to buy my ticket before we arrived.
“How would you prefer me to pay ?” I said, weighing up the competing crimes of proffering a £20 note or using contactless.
“Entirely up to you, Sir”. He still groaned when I got my card out though.
Ten seconds later a lady who looked like Miss Marple tapped me on the shoulder.
“This is beer, deary.” What could she mean ?
Bere Ferrers station looks like one of those Heritage Steam Train places that dominate East Angular, so I didn’t hang around.
Not much to say about Bere. A pub, a church, a village hall, a station, a Watersports Day.
The Olde Plough opened at 11am,
which made me like it instantly.
But with an hour to kill I walked along the mud flats to see the locals setting up for their Watersports, which I sense mainly involve throwing mud at each other in a debauched way.
Folk who like estuary Essex will love Bere, but I decided against the long walk to Buckland Monachorum (good pub) as I was keen not to be stranded till Sunday.
The Plough is small, and cosy, and unfussy. I’d been on halves but this definitely felt like a Pint Pub.
“Good afternoon !” said the cheeriest landlady of the trip so far. It was 11.40am but time goes slowly here.
One other lady was working on her laptop, which made it feel a little like Wetherspoons (joking), so I took my Half Bore out to the garden.
A cool, malty, fresh pint I scored 3.5+, and told WhatPub so immediately.
Clearly only an outside toilet could improve this place. And there it was.
Unlike Simon, I had no need to desecrate Bere station while I waited for the 12:15.