I think this might be in my Top 5 titles, you know. Not on a par with the Rye one, but you lot never got that one. What’s your favourite ?
I’d never been to Sidmouth, as Charlene (not that Charlene) sang on Motown in 1982.
Good grief, what a coastline.
It was heaving, almost as busy as Lyme Regis on an August Bank Holiday, though that has the advantage of being 20 minutes closer to Chelsea and possibly offering more car parking.
An ancient busker sings “What a Wonderful World“.
It’s better than the Michael Bolton version.
Michael Bolton (or his tribute acts) would be considered as a young punk by the gentlefolk of Sidmouth Conservative Club, up the hill in a High Street more reminiscent of coastal Essex (hello, Frinton).
I buzz to be let in without explanation, clutching my CAMRA gold card, signed in and tried to identify the craft beer behind the perspex.
Yes, it’s that tiny brewery from deepest Cornwall that the CAMRAs love.
Just Doom Bar, too, with the Otter pump turned round.
But the Doom lifted the Gloom (they can have that one for free), even though 52% of the septuagenarians were drinking Carling or Carlsberg. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Forgetting I’m a mere 15 years away from septuagenarian status myself, I wondered if I’d be looked at with curiosity, but one chap said “How ya doing”, the way you would in The North.
“Wahey !” All heads turned.
Fred* walked in, having been quarantined for 2 weeks following a daytrip to Barry Island (I think).
“How’d ya cope Fred”
“Just accepted it”. These folk won the war against craft, you know.
Rarely have I seen such joy; the oldies really appreciate getting their pub back.
Following the one way system, I walked through the games room and saw the Otter pump, with the Doom Bar turned round. Saving the Otter for the connoisseurs.
*Other names are available