15th January 2020
Never mind the “o” in Puriton, what about the “z” in Enterprize ?
An hour on from Berkeley, I asked Sis to guide me to stop No. 2, just off the M5.
Junction 37, I guessed, having been to the No.37 Social Club a few years back, but clearly 37 is the number of security guards they need when BRAPA visits. It’s Junction 23, I learn just in time.
The Puriton is very odd.
The only pub, it’s tucked away in a modern housing estate literally under the M5, a long way from the village proper.
Is it a modern estate pub ?
Doesn’t look it. A quick nosey around suggests old coaching inn, with modern housing in the orchards around it. But I haven’t a clue.
A large, straggling pub, with everyone at the bar at 3pm and an isolated sweets cabinet that says “Fenland dining pub 1987”.
“Do you want a pudding ?” said Sis. I didn’t, but nearly did.
Sis had a half of the Quantock, served in an irritatingly thin glass.
She’s obviously related to me (is she ?) as her chosen table gave us a great view of the lady at the bar drinking a pint of Fosters.
“You don’t see many pubs with lone ladies at the bar drinking” said Sis, astutely. You might in the Sun in Waterbeach, I thought.
It was very Isle of Portland, a community drinkers pub.
Behind us, another lone lady was tucking into a late lunch. Who needs Spoons ?
I showed Sis the scum on the beer. It’s what siblings do.
Hard to describe, but it felt like the whole community, or at least the ones who weren’t at school, were here in the pub. Bad Manners gave way to Dirty Dancing, which pleasingly Sis didn’t recognise as it’s not yet 1987 in Waterbeach.
“Oooh look there’s Sooty” said Sis. I must have seen 3,788 Sooties in pubs.
“I feel so welcome I want to say goodbye to everyone“. And I knew how she felt.
We had a walk round the village, friendly but unspectacular, and I speculated on which house would be the first to be compulsorily turned into a micropub by the next Puriton purge.
This one, I think;