This blog is proudly a WAGathaChristie free zone.
Into Hampshire, and time for some Navigator.
Yes, I’d been to Hayling Island before, apparently, but remembered nothing at all about it bar Mrs RM recounting happy family holidays with an Aunt (probably) and a bucket and spade (definitely). We were easily pleased in the ’70s.
Hayling looks interesting on the Navigator, but really shines when seen as part of the string of islands from Pompey to Thorney. Rumours of new micropub on Fowley Island are yet to be confirmed by Pubmeister, but he has a 1 April 2020 deadline for that one.
Thirteen pubs on Hayling, which sounds astonishing till you realise that’s less than 1 per 1,300 people.
The Maypole is the first of those 13 to grace the Guide in my ticking life, AND has 11.30am opening. Just time for 20 minutes on the beach.
More Clacton than Maldon, it’s fair to say. Funland is closed till Halloween, so I can’t play crazy golf or ride the rollercoaster, and watching folk clear up dog mess pales as an entertainment. I can see why Mrs RM was so desperate to head north at 18.
I headed a mile north to the Maypole.
I bumped into a nice lady opening up at 11.31. She laughed; it was a winning laugh, or perhaps just nervous relief it wasn’t BRAPA.
“Don’t be offended, it’s going to be a flying visit” I said, unnecessarily. She wasn’t offended.
As usual with Fuller’s, it’s smart, homely and inoffensive.
Always pick the beer from the biggest handpump, folks.
Now you’ll be expecting me to tell you the Pride was OK, a little thin, mustn’t grumble etc etc, won’t you ?
Far from it. The Pride was drinking well, I’m delighted to say, a rich, chewy 3.5 first out of the pumps.
I really should sub-title this blog First Out Of The Pumps though.
The nice lady shouted “Thanks“, and awaited the grey pound in 30 minutes time.