One more post before the September Stocktake, which for a change will be virtually up-to-date.
We had real fun finding a hotel close to the coast, eventually getting an apartment (wait a minute) on the edge of Eastbourne. I’m with holding judgement and reviews till I get the deposit back.
Golly, ideally placed for two new Guide ticks. You couldn’t make it up.
Not a lot new at all in East Sussex, actually, and the Dinkum in Polegate (avg. age 62) is a Proper Pub.
Named after Dame Edna Everage’s barnstorming show at the Eastbourne Empire in 1984, I suspect this is the only Dinkum in the Beer Guide, though clearly the expansion of the GBG to Melbourne following BRAPA‘s recent efforts may change that.
Mrs RM is hungry. At the door two tourists are perusing the bar menu. We sneak past, grab the corner table in the Public, and order a pint. Five minutes later the tourists decide that nachos and flatbreads aren’t what they want and bring the menu back in.
It’s a blokes pub. Note, though, they’re all civilised enough to not be barflies. Well done.
Well, it’s the Best, isn’t it ?
I’m still DES so Mrs RM guzzles down her Harvey’s (cool, foamy, spot-on, 3.5) with impressive haste. At least, the Old Boys seem impressed.
They’re reading papers, humming along to Ace of Base and chatting about a mate with “the bladder of a racehorse” and trying to make out what’s going on the games room.
One chap gets up to go with his non-licking dog, sees the deluge approaching, and thinks better of it.
At regular intervals the young lads come in to the Public and give updates on Blades v Scousers; they’re all southern Liverpool fans of course who greet the latest jammy Reds winner with unbridled joy.
As much unbridled joy as greets our flatbread and nachos, which is the last junk food we will eat ever, ever, we declare.
Just a well-run local. But here’s the thing. They all said “bye” to us as they left, and we said “bye” as we left. How often does that happen?