24th February 2020
Mrs RM is doing exciting things in Sevenoaks, which sounds like an oxymoron, so I’m free to go ticking. Hurrah !
A night in North Notts, normally a highlight of the year, as even the micros seem like they want to be pubs.
Sutton is famous for having a railway station (of sorts) while big brother Mansfield didn’t and its ring of family diners called things like Snipe which dotted the GBG in the absence of much in the centre.
The Duke of Sussex is a rare newbie, a roadhouse offering pretzel burger buns and Pentrich beers.
I might go back here, to give it the benefit of the doubt after a horror visit.
As I approached the bar, I got that dreaded “What you having” that assumes you’ve no interest in looking at what’s on the bar.
It’s a Pentrich showcase, and I see a Pentrich clip, so I say “Pentrich“.
“Which one ?”
“What have you got ?” I can only see one, and there’s no beer board.
“There’s another one round the corner“. He goes to check what it is,
“Ah, it’s off”
“I’ll have that a half of that one, then“.
“£1.85 please” said with an outstretched palm expecting me to have guessed the prize and have the coins counted out.
Yes, a nightmare, even though the guvnor himself is as enthusiastic as they come.
I beat the lunchtime crowd to the best seat and peruse the burger menu.
BUT the beer is so tired (NBSS 1) I can’t stay, and I haven’t the heart for a fight at the bar , and it’s not my job to taste the beer.
As I say, whenever something is really bad I always go back, just in case it was a dream.
Three hours till my next pub, enough time for a cultural walk. I know you love culture.
I missed the culture, but captured the pubs for you.
I wasn’t feeling it for Sutton, particularly when I realised the Picture House where I’d hoped to kill a couple of hours watching “Parasite” was now a Spoons.
One of my favourite Spoons, surrounded by cheery ex-miners drinking Springhead by the jug in pretty much the only pub in town. I had two flat whites.
And then went back into the drizzle.
Trip Advisor told me the best thing to do in Sutton was shop, so after putting a quid in the hat of an Irish bloke doing Dire Straits covers I “did” the famous Idlewells.
Heron Foods, Poundland and B & M Bargains forma line on the way to the indoor market, which is actually charming, and I stick up on two quids worth of menthol and eucalyptus sweets from a lady who’s been there since 1984 (not all the time, she goes home at night).
Still, never knock a town with a mobility centre called “Complete Freedom”.