Grief, Somerset is lovely. Shame about the beer (so far).
Would I get better Butcombe on the edge of the Mendips ?
Is VAR the best invention, ever ?
Well, no. To both.
But Rickford is worth the trip, for the Masonic Lodge and ducks by the waterfall,
And what Wiki calls a gauging house.
The road approach to the Plume of Feathers is via the sharpest left bend in England, so I suggest you walk, like I did. You’ve been warned.
Now, this is getting weird. That top picture reminded me of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and now I see the Plume is owned by Scrumptious Pubs Ltd, who probably don’t also own the Stile in Wolverhampton.
Two ladies come outside with a bottle of Prosecco (each), leaving me as the only customer inside the pub.
The long tables, handwritten menus and lack of beermats suggest an expected influx of diners that seemed to be biding its time coming from Cheddar.
Service from the young uniformed barman was of the “Will that be all, Sir” variety.
Well, a fresher Butcombe would be nice.
He looks unperturbed as I took my half round the nooks and crannies, looking for a plant pot I might need later.
The middle room is expectedly “family dining“,
but the back room is unexpectedly pubby, after a fashion.
In the end I tipped the Butcombe in the urinal, pausing only to note some unexpectedly obscure indie being played by the barman.
But he must have noticed me typing “What’s this song called” better than Shazam on my phone as I emerged to the strains of Ariana Grande, Queen of Manchester.
I left just as the septuagenarians arrived. Never did find out what the graffiti meant.