BeerMat, who knows these things, tells us that Pfeffel has been in Coalville this week.
We don’t know whether he found time for a Doom Bar in the Monkey Walk or a Pedi in the home of the UK’s most infamous golliwog.
Legally, I should leave LE67 to BeerMat., who has exclusive rights to sell holidays in Coalville or Whitwick to discerning Anericans.
But I needed a break on the way back from Manchester, and where better than Junction 22 of the M1.
This is the view from space…
Markfield ISN’T Coalville, but it is in the Leicestershire Lockdown, and visiting feels like a minor act of rebellion. We don our masks, invoke the spirit of Willie Thorne, and park up by the Altar Stones, which is something you don’t expect to say every day.
Yes, the Altar Stones a hundred yards from the M1. Lovely scrambles over the rocks, after which I needed a pint.
You’re expecting it’s the GBG Bull’s Head, aren’t you?
Nope. Another day, another new pub.
Nothing extraordinary at the Queen’s Head on a Tuesday post work session, but that’s fine.
The barmaid is cheery and hands me back 85p as it transpires “Tuesday is Pedi Day”, which ought to be enshrined in law.
I join James in the giant garden where Markfield’s commuters are exercising their giant dogs.
It’s a lovely sulphorous pint.
If anything, a touch too sulphorous, if that’s possible.
It’ll never get in the GBG, of course, with Hobgoblin as the guest. Which is why you lot rely on BeerMat to point you to the joys of LE67