Despite the odd grump about table service I’d enjoyed a first real foray into the Southern Lakes, but James was gone by mid-afternoon and we could only fit in one stop on the way back to Barrow.
Luckily, the Manor Arms was a bit of a cracker.
I nearly visited on that “Let It Go” evening in 2018, but it was too dark to make the walk from Foxfield’s temporarily closed classic.
But this time it was a perfect early evening to enjoy a community boozer with folk spilling out into the marquee and the town square.
Despite the perspex masks, the whole thing seemed much closer to normality than in Eskdale, though I was skilfully plonked into the bench seat in the corner with an upturned bar stool to keep me in order.
Word about troublemakers gets about.
They had nice beer big boards, too, and despite the appeal of Burton’s most famous keg I went for something named after a Cumbrian town.
Oh, yes, Ulverston. Says it on the glass. Pretty good (NBSS 3+), but no match for the quality of the banter.
Some folk reckon socially distanced tables would be the death of the pub argument; they should come here.
“Where was Napoleon born ?”
“I know where he died, but where was he born ?” I didn’t know, but had a sneaking feeling the blighter might have been French by birth, if not death.
(someone looks on Google)
“Ajaccio, Corsica. It’s French” I said confidently, to a purr of acknowledgement. It was on Corsica in 2002 that I won TWO (2) pints of Fosters on a Mark Warner holiday, edging out a chap who’d just been on Weakest Link (he won three pints).
Remembering my mask, I headed for the Gents, noting a growing splodge of sanitiser accumulating outside the Gents.
At least, I hope it was sanitiser.