More saving pubs outside the GBG, this time aided by trusted Covid data expert and J20 connoisseur James.
With my Mum on the mend (thanks for your kind words) but under watch I’ve committed to stay in “the county“. Let’s not argue about boundaries, folks.
I was JUST over the Beds border when the ambulance was called on Monday afternoon, attempting to find a mildly hilly walk from Sandy to Biggleswade.
These are two towns that you won’t find in any Foders or AA Guides to England, but will read about in depth on BRAPA, which frankly is a rather better manual to exploring the UK.
Sandy is known, if at all, for the RSPB HQ on the sandy hills to the east.
The town itself is named after Ebbe Sand, scorer of the fastest ever World Cup goal by a substitute.
But Ebbe is not even the most famous celebrity commemorated in the town, with the Ghandi in Sandy hopefully self-explanatory.
I used the 5 mile stroll to tell James some of the facts of life, such as the legendary status of the East Beds Indian restaurants and the Guide history of Biggleswade.
“WATCH OUT FOR THE COWS !” shouted James.
Following an unfortunate incident in Leintwardine in 2009 while seeking a short cut to The Sun, Mrs RM and our lads are wary of bovines, but they parted for me.
Here’s your East Anglian “Big Sky” shot.
Across those fields you reach a staggeringly dull new housing development that Waterbeach will soon aim to emulate (for dullness) and some genuine workers terraces from the town’s days as a centre of light industry (it’s shopping now).
The standard pub recommendation here is the spit-and-sawdust Wheatsheaf, or was until the spit became a problem.
It’s a very Greene King/Wells sort of a place.
Even the Heritage pub over the A1 in Broomserves Bury’s finest. Or used to.
James is used to me dithering, looking for ancient fonts and stencilled street art on our walks.
Monday was Day 1 of “Eat Chips, there’s good Chaps” or whatever the # is.
The curry houses open at 5.30, the Turkish restaurant was packed, so Spoons it is.
A Spoons that opened in 2017 but has yet to grace the Guide, and therefore be graced by Simon. Could this be a pre-emptive tick ?
They did, at least, have a beer that wasn’t one of The Four Spoons Usuals.
And, excitingly, someone had already ordered the Bishop’s Farewell, so it should at least be a 2.
Reader, it was a 3.5, cool and tasty, and at £1.39 as much a bargain as the halloumi, chicken bites and burger.
James had chosen a table with perspex, but with a fair amount of foot traffic either side.
It was a GREAT table choice, allowing me to observe with joy the ditherers at the entrance, the laugher of youth, the whoop of joy when Jean and Eric saw how much Rishi had knocked off the price of their lunch.
Isn’t socialism great ?
Two groups of Waders had swapped tables, to defeat Track and Trace no doubt, but at least they hadn’t moved the furniture.
A joy, only enhanced by the knowledge we were dining in the home of one of the greatest songwriters of our generation.
And YES, you can actually stay in a Spoons hotel here. Send us a postcard if you do.
What’s happened to the brewery buildings, closed by the evil GK some years ago?
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Shipped out to America, I guess.
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The joys of RSPB Sandy where I forced my children to spend the day of Princess Di’s funeral.
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Good man! I dragged my son over to Maidstone, for a beer festival, just to distance myself from the mass hysteria that had gripped the nation that day.
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It’s just a death. Completely passed me by.
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We had a day out in a deserted Bournemouth booked quite a while in advance.
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Maybe not quite the most embarrassing thing that the nation has done, Paul eh?
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Etu,
But I must admit that I’ve returned to Bournemouth and even stayed there ( but in a Wadworth’s pub ).
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Was that the Goat & Tricycle ?
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No, the Dean Park Inn, a bit out of the town centre but worth the walk.
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Alien invasion of 1977? When was BRAPA first spotted?
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He was conceived in 1978. Spooky.
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Whilst on the subjects of Bournemouth and conception, my parents spent their honeymoon in the town. I am the first born amongst my siblings, so go figure, as the Americans would say!
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My first-born was conceived alongside a graveyard in Doncaster, the second in an exclusive hotel in a wealthy Sardinian village. You wouldn’t know.
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T’other Paul,
Well, if they were waiting for the Cricketers to open ………….
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I only read this for the obscure football references and continued piss taking 👍 Ebbe Sand 👏👏👏
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“Maybe not quite the most embarrassing thing that the nation has done?” Agreed, Etu!
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Entering the football World Cup these past fifty years ?
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Wasn’t aware of your Mum being ill RM – I wish her a speedy recovery.
I wondered how often you’d have to go back to the Wheatsheaf to be classed as a regular customer and served. Honest as you say but could be divisive amongst the town folk.
Pyramid dentists – that must be the kind where each customer has to find four other customers for a small commission… 😉
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Thanks for your kind wishes, She was taken ill quite suddenly on Monday afternoon but happily the prognosis seems less serious than feared.
I’ll bet the number of occasional visitors the Wheatsheaf gets can be counted on one hand. A year !
Yes, I think you’ve cracked the pyramid.
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