LONG BUCKBY, M’DUCK

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I loved the Badger’s Arms in Long Buckby, and I know BRAPA will too.

How can you resist a place run by a Mr Badger (or indeed, Mr. A. Badger).

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Proper fontage

They’ve even opened a railway station half a mile down the road for Si’s visit in in 2027.

Long Buckby
Overcrowded England

I covered Buckby three years ago, and all I have to add is this Cure-themed craft bar which provides haute couture to felines as a sideline.

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Ugh

Back in early 2017 I noted the King’s Head was Long Buckby’s first ever (ever) GBG entry, a bit surprising for a small but bustling industrial town.

Small but bustling industrial towns (2 Indian restaurants, 2 Chinese takeaways, artisan coffee place) tend to be fertile ground for micros like the Badger.

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Hopefully Danny’s is the taxi service not the pub sign

I took the wrong door, of course. There’s a homely “Margate micro” style lounge for the less able who can’t make it up the stairs.

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Cosy but controversial
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Will divide opinion

It took me a few seconds to realise the bar was upstairs and this wasn’t a modern parlour pub with an octogenarian landlady about to enter.

As the sign says,

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Upstairs you’re greeted by Mr A. Badger himself.

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And one of those exciting boards with lots of words on it.

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Too many words
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Rare example of free-standing jam jars

Two fellas in the corner had beat me in, but were drinking cider and ginger beer so I couldn’t copy them. Better go for the one that’s not hoppy, then.

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Phipps Black Star NBSS 3.5
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Loads of bits of paper all over the place a good thing

As you can see, hardly an ale-only micro of Herne Rules fame, and all the better for it.

You’ve no chance of avoiding the banter. Two blokes told me all you could ever want to know and more about Long Buckby; industry, incomers, Indians, irritations.

The Christmas Fayre was looming.

“Who the **** is Santa this year ?”

“That bloke who collects crisps packets”

Wonderful little place, but I sense you’ll have to find that out for yourself.

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11 thoughts on “LONG BUCKBY, M’DUCK

  1. Your map reminds me of a then London workmate, who came in looking rather tired, some thirty years ago, Martin.

    “You look worn out”

    “Yeah, I accepted an invite to a party last night”

    “Oh, nice. Where was that?”

    “Watford Gap. Thought it was near Watford”

    Liked by 1 person

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