I don’t mean to moan.
Goodness knows I’ve plenty to be joyful about; my youngest son even introduced me to his girlfriend in a Manchester pre-emptive tonight, and you know how much I love pre-emptives.
And it only took me two seconds to click on the news headlines just now and realise the torment some of you suffer. Even Kate.
But the opening hours fiasco won’t go away.
Last week Duncan visited the Faeroes, only to discover prohibition won’t be repealed ’till 1992, and Simon of course has just suffered for his art in Pocklington, which is no place to suffer.
My latest anguish at least came in an attractive town with an M & S Foodstore on a route I had to do anyway.
I tipped up at 10.30, half an hour before the Maison du Biere opened,
and paid for an hour’s parking.
Half an hour to bring you some bucolic Britain,
faded Double Diamond signs,
the head of Eric the frothblower,
some wonderful shop signage,
and frankly dubious pub sign.
I checked the hours on WhatPub, just to be sure,
finished my falafel wrap (ugh) and followed the GBG directions to the Maison.
Nowhere near. Not for the first time. I was virtually back in Leek when I realised it was rubbish guidance. £5 I pay for that app.
Nightfall was closing in by the time I arrived at the Maison at 11.05, armed with a pocketful of change to buy Mrs RM a 10.5% murk.
Now, midday makes sense, but 11am makes sense as well for an off-license. Have they really changed their hours since confirming them for GBG entries in the summer ?
I couldn’t be bother to cough up another two quid for parking, and left with a sigh.
It could have been worse, it could have been the Scilly Isles.