This is the George, Spaldwick;
It’s a lovely pub. And three jolly gentlefolk seemed to confirm its loveliness as they bounded past us on our return from Leighton Bromswold.
“If you’re heading for the pub, it’s closed” said Panama hat man, grumpily.
And so it was, at 3.15pm on the hottest day of the year. I didn’t NEED to go in, like Johnson Sr NEEDS a pub, but Mrs RM quite fancied a beer since I was driving.
Pub opening times are odd, aren’t they ? Ten minutes later we were on the edge of Grafham Water, where the village micro was open.
You’ll remember me stumbling upon the Grafham Trout in December, when I wrote
“Obviously the pub was closed, but since it’s bound to be in the Guide next year I’ll drive Mrs RM here for a special treat.”
And so I did. It’s very Village social club, and everyone was outside on the grass watching ten year olds in
Hull Barcelona shirts kick balls around, but that’s nice.
The lady was really lovely, scuttling about picking up glasses, chatting to gentlefolk, and simultaneously serving two local beers from the usual A14 suspects.
I’m no fan of drinking on grass, particularly when Mrs RM decides to disturb a bee that’s popped by to test the NBSS of the beer.
“It’s a wasp !” says Mrs RM, who has this animal identification issue.
My eldest son takes after me and would rescue a fly from a flaming building. Mrs RM and Matt would treat it like Pablo Escobar would treat a snitch.
I rescued Buzzy Bee from the foam on the Nobby’s and coaxed him back to life with soothing renditions of Kangaroo Air Force Ventilator deep cuts. He/she didn’t need the ventilator, and went off to sting young children in Messi shirts.
Mrs RM and I took the walk down to the reservoir, which was full of families with picnics, it being one of the days they can’t get 50% off the bill at McDonalds at Brampton Hut.
It looked wonderful.