It’s either raid the archives or bring you Fenland sunsets. Perhaps you’d prefer Fenland sunsets.
My garage clear-out continues under Mrs RM orders. No idea why I’ve kept random programmes from 3rd Division matches from before I was born.
Two interesting things about a dull programme for a dull 2-0 Southend win (no adverts for pubs or beers).
“Luxury” and Canvey Island in the same sentence,
and a set of Pen Pictures to thrill students of brevity;
More interest in that programme than my two blogged visit to the Essex coast.
It takes longer than you’d believe to get there, particularly by car. “Take the A13” sang Billy Bragg, foretelling the road to hell that is the A127.
The approach via Sutton Road passes mobility scooter shops, retirement homes, and finally some striking tower blocks to the east of town,
Mrs RM stayed here last year but failed to get me photos of blokes with tattoos in the scary Spoons, so I’ve had to raid Google Maps for some pics of the rather lovely promenade, a match for Coney Island.
There’s some good pubs in Old Leigh, but the Railway was the first Guide entry that could have come from a Proper Pub town.
From memory it felt very crafty South-East London, and I was a bit surprised how trad the beer range was;
Some genuinely weird ’70s music could have been Viv Stanshall; whatever it was it created a singular atmosphere that I loved.
Into the tight-knit streets to the east, we get a bona fide micro in Mawsons.
On a day I was driving Mrs RM (we’d just been to Rochford) , she was taking full advantage.
Mrs RM found the bench seating with space invaders on the table. There were no controls.
“Dark Star Crème Brulee, it’s gorgeous !” said someone at the bar. “Oooh” said Mrs RM, “I’ll have that“.
She sank the crème brulee, grumbled about odd beer flavours, and then gave a withering assessment of the pub. And the beer mats.
“That’s a chimpanzee not a monkey ! And it’s not blue !”
The lady in the window was reading out a round robin Christmas letter from a relative. Slowly and deliberately. Almost as if she thought I was BRAPA.
For a moment I thought Mrs RM was going to go over and tell her to shut it, and wondered how I might restrain her. But she was just searching for her phone.
As the Kursaals sang “When she finished her laundry she was all in a quandry and made it for the street like a hare”. Odd song.