I need to take a break from these Devon posts, and bring you the culmination of my mini-break in The North, possibly my last before it’s locked down forever.
Tonight, at the 3rd time of asking, I finally managed a beer in Helperby.
Every year the GBG gives us ONE pub that torments us with unexpected holidays to celebrate being in the GBG, Facebook fibs, or villagers buying a pub and only opening it as a restaurant at the weekend.
2 months of studying Facebook, Twitter, Tik Tok and Old Moore’s Almanac had failed to convince me this place was reopening, but then cleverclogs Duncan managed to get in, probably via the Ladies loo window.
Anyway, I phoned them and they said “Yeah, we’re open” as if I was asking Wetherspoons or something. In my defence, I’d already phoned at least six times and never got an answer.
At 6.30pm it’s a bit quiet, just one big group round a table on the right.
The Youngs Ordinary had just gone off, but the Landlord had an equally crafty option;
I popped to the loo while I was waiting, if that makes sense.
Simple seating, unfussy service, one immaculately cool, crisp beer (NBSS 3.5/4). What HAS gone wrong with the GBG this year ?
The locals discussed the travails of the local cricket club, the pointlessness of facemasks and how we’d soon be drinking beer through a straw, and season ticket holders at Brentford and Hull (oddly).
“The whole world’s gonna collapse” Nope
“That Zac Crawley is an emotionless sort” Yep
I watched in admiration as the landlord put on something exotic to replace the Young’s. Doom Bar, I think it was called.
“Your beer’s really good, mate“. I said, and he seemed really pleased.