Just to prove I’m a cultured creature, I now head deep into West Lancashire for a Holland’s steak pie and a pint of Bank Top Mild.
Eccleston blotted it’s copy book by claiming as its own a Belgian biker who won a race round Box Hill at the 2012 Olympics.
Tidy little place, nice northern Italian restaurant by the lake and a new micro that’s just reopened after having a good, long think about the impositions of Covid compliance.
Not that you could see much difference. Micropubs seem to be making a fist of it, and since it only takes half a dozen regulars to fill it up a lot of them seem to be doing OK.
The friendly regulars in the GreenHaus included the inevitable licking dog and an enthusiastic lady trying to remember the lyrics to “I’ve got a brand new combine harvester”.
“I’ve got a brand new combine harvester” I said, helpfully, adding “The Wurzels, Number 4, 1976” to little interest.
The Bank Top was superb, a rare 4.
It then started to drizzle lightly, so I joined that queue for the village chippy, called something like “La Pommery” I guess.
A lady who’d lived in Eccleston since before craft, gave me her views on changes in the village, and a set of views on Covid from the Van Morrison songbook.
Yep, I should have had gravy, Jane, but I wasn’t hanging around to give special orders. Not with an R rate of 1.0366 in the air.