I realise that this blog is becoming less relevant by the day, but equally it becomes even more important that I keep writing. See Blackpool Jane’s marvellous blog for a similar perspective (warning : contains beans).
What you need today are the first signs of Spring, a Proper Pub, and retiredmartin cocking up again.
Dim Martin goes to Dymock, perhaps.
Just off the M50, ten minutes from other-worldly Ledbury, I’d never heard of Dymock, but Wiki tells me;
Dymock is the ancestral home of the Dymoke family who are the Royal Champions of England, which sounds important. I guess important in the same sense that Duncan is the Royal Champion of the GBG and BRAPA is the court jester.
Not to mention the daffs. Daff festivals, daffs walks, daffs outside the Beauchamp Arms, daffs on the table.
WhatPub says it closes at 2.30, but us tickers knows that often means last orders at 2.00 or when the last diner leaves if sooner, so I run for the door.
It’s all charming, in that way that community-owned pubs often are.
The large and familiar looking porch leads to a bar are preserved in 1972.
I can hear laughter, always a good sign, from the dining room at the rear, but the bar is deserted.
Just as in 1972, two local beers on the bar, one of them embellished with hunting scenes.
The ’70s feel is rather ruined by the Haribo, I think, but then remember that anything that brings children into pubs is GOOD.
More charming service, even though I’m only putting £1.75 in the till. On that note,where are these £5 pints I read about on Discourse ?
I take my half of creamy Bitter (NBSS 3) on a little tour of a pub that’s a museum of tat, since the red car has obscured my window set view of the daffs.
The brasses look familiar, but that’s because ALL rural Gloucestershire pubs HAVE to have horse brasses on the wall, surely ?
Back home, my spreadsheet resolutely fails to disclose an earlier visit, but a search on top pub website retiredmartin reveals all;
Barely a year ago and I’d already forgotten the Beauchamp. Just shows how different pubs look when they’re full or empty.
Still, never regret visiting pubs. You never know when it might be your last.