HOOKED IN

21st February 2020

Our maiden trip in the new campervan, provisionally called Simon, and a 3 hour slog round the M25 to Hook.


It’s my mother in law and her twin sister’s 80th, so why not pick a Home Counties gastropub to celebrate. If I reach 80 and haven’t completed the GBG I’m in big trouble.

I park up in the Falcon, only half an hour late.

Sorry, wrong one.

I don’t recognise anyone, and am also terrified of polite society.

Particularly when it congregates at the bar of an ancient bar blocking the view of the handpumps.

But sticking a table 2 feet in front of the bar is asking for trouble if you ask me.

Mrs RM gets the benefit of my expert driving, and declares the Andwell and Hogs Back both “good”, but not, “like BrewDog”.

By the time starters arrive its 1.30 and I’m famished, and i let Citra know to rescue me, and that the TEA is drinking well.

The food is great, black pudding in Welsh rarebit a winner.

Then Citra turns up and I sneak off, debating BBBs and future pub crawls, while Mick reluctantly declares an NBSS 3. Nice to see him back in good form.

And finally I get to go, being urged to visit the “rustic” loos.

I hate family gatherings.

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