More Naaaarfolk for you, from an unexpected source.

Two months ago I’d forgotten that King’s Lynn existed. Then Duncan promoted Lynn as a major tourist destination, something I was able to confirm soon after, and only last week I watched their Under 18s dismantle Mildenhall Town.

And now I’m back, from outer space Norwich, making another trip for TWO unexpected ticks that are both Ordinary Pubs rather than micros.


Duncan and I have both been to Terrington St Clements pub-hunting before the birth of the internet, and we secretly hoped that the Wildfowler was actually the County Arms renamed. But no such luck.

Bit of a dull sign

So I reacquaint myself with the village bus stop, home to replica shirted fans of Kings Lynn and Norwich on their way to their respective staggered kick-offs. Duncan, of course, saw the “Clements” defeat West Winch Wanderers here in 1997 and has no truck with the big leagues.

A chance to admire the “Cathedral of the (reclaimed) Marshland“, to go with all the other Cathedrals of impossibly dull bits of Fenland.

terrington church

Terrington is nearly as big as Waterbeach, but has better fonts.

Future micro called “(not open) Munday”, surely
One for the purist

To its credit, it also retains a Chinese takeaway and this unusual art installation;

What can it mean ?

Bing Maps is convinced that my pub is called the Wild Fowler, after an incident at Carrow Road in 2005 when Robbie’s particularly reckless tackle ended the career of the Norwich City mascot.

Wild Fowler

That’s the most interesting feature of a “solid” village dining pub where the drama comes at the bar as Dad tries to remember the lunch orders. “It’s a good job he’s got six fingers“, says BRAPA, cruelly.

“Leslie whad you want ?”



My ale choice isn’t quite as exciting as threatened by What Pub.

It’s like 1997 here

They have IPA, fear not, and all that “Perfect IPA” Point of Sale material that hints at a reformulation of your favourite.


It’s OK (2.5), though a bit disappointing after some 3.5 pints so far in GBG20.

Table leg detail

Still, I get “Americanos” by Holly Johnson, and I get Gentlefolk reading out the menu.

“The lasagne comes with chips, Ed”

“What about the fish and chips, Ed ? That comes with chips”


Still, there’s nowhere you’d rather be, and the subsequent pinking is a joy.


A mile north of the Lynn ground is South Wootton’s Swan, which offers even less drama. At least until BRAPA turns up for his 6th pint.

Odd tinting

The Public is full of Liverpool scarves, as pretend Scousers watch their side take an unassailable 5 point lead at the top of the Premiership. Watching Liverpool on the tele box is, of course, one of the few legal domestic activities in Norfolk.

The Lounge has some pleasing panelling and seats, and is only empty as all the families are eating chips in the garden.

Spoons standard carpet
Proper stools

Anyone here called Pete ?” asks the taxi driver.

A dozen hands go up.

Why can’t you walk to the ground ?” I think.

Uniformed barmaids seem relieved the football is over, and are planning their escape to the lawn with picnic blanket and lunch box during their break. Ah, sweet.

Sadly, the Adnams is flat and dull (NBSS 2), and £4 a pint.

I knew my run of good beer in the new Good Beer Guide wouldn’t survive the Norfolk onslaught.



    1. – but that’s the belt and braces approach to pub food as might be expected in a village with a motto that means “Faithful and prepared”.

      And “the Adnams is flat and dull” is in keeping with the surrounding countryside of drainage channels far outnumbering contours.

      Liked by 3 people

  1. I was once propping up the bar of my Irish local having bantz with the lads when a taxi driver popped his head around the door and said ” Is there a Mick in here ? ”
    ” Take your pick ” I replied.
    Now, my chums and I appreciate that Anglo-Irish banter in best indulged in a mutually insulting but decent way but there are not many pubs over here I’d risk such a joke in.


    1. P P-T,
      Your mention of taxi drivers and humour reminds me of the year I drove Hackney Carriages and Private Hire cars to keep the wolf from the door.
      Having taken a urine sample ( resembling undiluted orange squash ) from an old folks home to Stafford Hospital my radioing back to the office “I’ve just finished taking the piss” caused raucous laughter.
      Not bad for a curmudgeon I thought.

      Liked by 1 person

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