A title only Matthew Lawrenson will get, I suspect.
Not sure Mobberley‘s Church Inn deserves a post, but it was gorgeous and pubby and one of those qualities is a bit rare in Cheshire.
Five minutes up the line back to Manchester from Knutsford; it’s actually just about on the map I used in the last post, so I’ll recycle it as suggested in the Green manifesto.
If WhatPub is to be believed, and it must, Mobberley has seven (7) pubs for 3,050 souls.
“Mobberley is well served by pubs.”
Treat this as your citation, Wiki.
An eighth, the Bird in Hand , is closed while Sir Humphrey checks CCTV footage for mobile use.
Mobberley is the sort of place that should have given birth to admirals, architects and archdeacons, but its most famous son in Dave Dee, of these 60s legends.
A “Zabadak” is a northern pashmina. I know this to be true as Frank Muir once defined it on “Call My Bluff“.
I expected to see the ghost of Frank Muir (a Kentish lad) in the Church Inn,
but it was a mixed bunch of visitors, including some mums and toddlers from the school opposite the church named after the pub.
For a dining pub it’s pretty unfussy, and unlike Brunning & Price there’s no jolly boards explaining pubs at the door.
A lady of some vintage is at the bar, telling us she delivered some of the customers as a midwife. The Landlady tells me she’s 89, which I tell her I don’t believe, which was true.
Let’s be honest; all beer in Cheshire gastropubs tastes the same. Foamy, not a model of coolness, but rarely less than competent. Just like the Storm here (“shudda had Beartown” shouts Congleton Colin).
Still, only four to go in Cheshire now, and one of those is in Runcorn.