8th January 2020
The month really kicks off now, with what seemed like a week in north Kent. You’ll feel like you live in Ramsgate by the time I catch up, and that’s no bad thing.
If Lincolnshire is a tough county to crack logistically, in Kent it’s the threat of more indistinguishable micros that sends chills to the heart. Will I be able to tell apart “Hop Huddle” from “Anguished Ale” a week on?
Ramsgate seafront lifts any sozzled soul.
I thought I’d found an unlisted micro down by the harbour, but it’s clearly not pokey enough.
It’s not in the GBG 30 months after opening, but the Royal Victoria Pavilion was an essential visit because;
a) It’s the biggest Wetherspoons in the world.
b) I have 50p Spoons vouchers to use
c) You expect that sort of research from me
d) It’s open at 10am.
I seem to be the only person not to have been here yet, and Mrs RM is amazed at the omission, but I haven’t been to Ramsgate since the spring of 2017.
Back then Mrs RM and I gawped at the exterior, and wondered at the joy of drinking a pint on the beach.
Purists will prefer the cinema conversion in Stafford or the old church in Exeter, but it looks a marvel to me.
It also looked fairly quiet, existing entirely on coffee and cooked breakfasts. Only one member of staff behind the bar, too.
But as I took my pint of Porter for an exploratory wander it dawned on me how many folk were dotted about the two floors and outside areas, a good fifty on them on the second Wednesday in January, and 99% of pubs in the country would love that trade.
One thing, it’s a bit above average prices for beer and food (no breakfast deals here)
I enjoyed the view even more than a robust pint of Sambrook’s Porter (NBSS 3+) which Spoons seem to have taken a shine to.
They’ve even added giant pot plants for fussy tickers.
The question is “How has Spoons affected those treasured micros trad pubs ?”. We’ll find out later.
I waved goodbye to the sea.
And reminded myself what a joy Ramsgate High Street is.
A busker outside Café Nero sang Ed Sheeran. I didn’t mind.
I thought I’d found the ultimate micropub opening times,
but it was actually a gift shop.
Next stop, Broadstairs, like in the Half Man Half Biscuit song. Micro pub, massive cliffs.