No, nothing to do with Newark North. This was the cutely named new micro bar in Rye.
Yeah, the one Paul Bailey probably advised me to do earlier this year when we walked past.
Yes, there’s a spare table outside.
But it was about 10 degrees too cold for Mrs RM, so we braved the inside of a micropub. At 6pm on a Saturday.
That’s just daft, isn’t it.
Yes, it’s my idea of hell. The actual waterworks here were virtually inaccessible too.
A continental couple (let’s pretend they’re from Duisburg) made some space for us, not that you’d say no to Mrs RM, and then returned to Untappd.
The beers, both from Old Dairy, were superb, but everyone seemed obsessed with toffee cider.
It was so good I think the couple next to us were weeping. But it might just have been the queue for the loo.