A DAWLISH DAWDLE

I have the inside of a Proper Pub for you !

Next stop, Dawlish, another Devonian stop on my 1998 megatrip.

This seagull had been waiting for my return.

Dawlish, not to be confused with Dawlish Warren (named after the duff Martin Clunes comedy), is a quaint fishing village-turned-gentle seaside resort*.

Gentle, except for scary looking sea serpent (pandas are cuddly).

My spreadsheet says I stopped here 22 years ago for the Swan, but all I remember is buying a bag of apples for 50p. Memory is weird, isn’t it ?

Loads of Proper Pubs, including a rare outing for the livery of Foster’s, presumably a long-closed Totnes brewery. Stafford Paul will know.

Not sure what you actually DO in Dawlish, bar stare at the sea and wait for the plague or go to the Laundrette.

Oh, the White Hart, my GBG tick.

Hand wash and contact details apart, this felt like a return to normality, right down to the dart board above the local’s head.

A choice of two pumps, Jail Ale and Teingworthy, which is possibly more of a choice than strictly necessary for a dozen blokes drinking lager.

But after what seems like WEEKS of me being stuck in a beer garden and tended to by a greeter, it’s nice to see bench seating, isn’t it ?

You can probably guess that the soundtrack was Chris Rea, which is close enough to Dire Straits, I guess. It was Chris’s long track that sounds a bit like Division Bell Pink Floyd. Oh, it is Pink Floyd says my phone.

I park along the wall with a decent Teignworthy (NBSS 3) and get politely interrogated by the nearest bloke.

“Are you here on holiday”

“No, just visiting pubs, like”

He looked confused, and went back to his pint of Foster’s.

*I’ll call it the Hornsea of the South-West and hope you’ve never been to Hornsea to compare it.

18 thoughts on “A DAWLISH DAWDLE

  1. Maybe you all can start a nonprofit Pub Tickers Alliance. Your membership cards could have a QR code that goes to a web page that explains why you visit pubs and why you shouldn’t be institutionalized. You might also distribute charity boxes to support those who cannot afford London prices.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “Gentle, except for scary looking sea serpent (pandas are cuddly).”

    You sure that’s not Disney (China)?

    “including a rare outing for the livery of Foster’s,”

    The Foster’s is bigger to bring them in; but the Courage Best Bitter will keep them there. 😉

    “Oh, the White Hart, my GBG tick.”

    With the Hart being kept a brilliant white by the laundrette next door?

    “which is possibly more of a choice than strictly necessary for a dozen blokes drinking lager.”

    What the bloody hell is it with lager? Even when it’s pushing 30C over here, I’m still drinking ale (ok, maybe a session all to being).

    “Oh, it is Pink Floyd says my phone.”

    (snicker)

    “He looked confused, and went back to his pint of Foster’s.”

    Confused, eh? A true lager drinker that. 🙂

    Cheers

    Like

  3. Therin lies the big difference between us and ‘them’. Most people ‘go to the pub’. We on the other hand ‘go to pubs’. Subtle but very confusing to the former.

    Good to see they let that wee man sit at the same table as the lager drinkers.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Similar when we were in the Coach & Horses Derby. The two very hospitable local bruisers playing pool couldn’t get their heads round why we’d travelled to their local to drink Bass and play Doms. “Haven’t you got your own local?…”

        Liked by 1 person

  4. “Foster’s, presumably a long-closed Totnes brewery” reminds me of one of the Real Ale Twats cartoons many years ago.
    Henry Foster was a brewer in Shirleywich several miles from me in 1906..

    Liked by 1 person

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