These first two weeks of Pubs Return have been a challenge in rule observance. While Mrs RM is programmed to do the exact opposite of what she’s told to, my problem is incompetence.
Here’s my Top 3 RetiredMartin failures to follow instructions;
1987, Corfu – Failure to observe instruction to only start the “Impromptu Greek Dancing” when the moussaka had been cleared.
“But it’s impromptu” said I and a mate called Simon (no relation).
1998, Harare – Failure to observe signs warning me not to intrude on Zimbabwean Presidential Palace while looking for the cricket ground. Approached with bayonet and moved on.
2010, Reykjavic – Failure to keep big toe out of the Blue Lagoon on a guided tour that expressly DIDN’T include use of the Blue Lagoon.
Ten minutes actually cured my toe of unspeakable diseases but may have traumatised a number of Germans.
I’ll gloss over 2007, Colon, Panama and the boy on a bike in a Cathedral.
Pubs need people to follow the rules. Book a table, wash your hands, follow the one way arrows, SIT DOWN (but not with THEM), don’t take your glass back, don’t sing.
I didn’t expect the Red Lion in Kellington near Goole to need me to book a table for a half, and I was right (see their Facebook page).
Pubs near power stations, in this case Eggborough and Drax, don’t stand (or sit) on ceremony.
I walked the village, simple but well tended, catching up a couple of joggers at the lovely church. “She made me stop !” said the younger, as I overtook them.
3pm opening, the new 10am.
Can it really be that big a place ?
I walk in, looking nervously round for the “greeter” and instructions, clutching a slip of paper with my contact details filled out in pink marker.
But there’s only the one Old Boy who somehow beat me in, and I can edge up to the bar without knocking anything over.
The welcome is genuine, the pub is spotless, the beer range spot on.
£2.50 for your local Brown Cow, an NBSS 3.5 of a pint. The A19 is a reliable stretch of road for beer (see: Burn), though it’s closed at Chapel Haddlesey. My local knowledge* helps me blend in seamlessly.
We talk roadworks and regeneration in Goole, queues for hairdressers and shopping in Pontefract, and the challenges of maintaining a village pub with folk still nervous about leaving their house.
20 minutes chatting in a pub (27.5 minutes for Si) is an injection of life to lift the soul, it really is.
*Knowledge so poor I’ve been spelling Haddlesey as Haddesley for 20 years