Yet more Hitchin highlights for you. Could I yet become an ambassador for the town, after slagging it off a week ago ?
Well for a start, there was nothing in Hitchin as scarily unwelcoming as THIS obstruction heavy craft bar in Letchworth…
And you arrive at Hitchin Railway Station on this lovely train.
As you’ll remember, I spent a decade in North Herts in the ’90s, a decade of Toploader, the Beer Orders and misplaced optimism.
Not much has changed. The timber is a bit older and traffic-scarred, the pashminas a bit brighter, and the town’s stock of Indian restaurants has been hit harder than the pubs.
Sheffield Hatter is still leaving calling cards on lamp posts.
At some point I’ll meet up with local pub legend John in the GBG Half Moon, but I really wanted to revisit Hitchin’s most unspoilt pub, tucked away from the car fumes near the Priory.
Would there be anyone else in the Coopers ?
Would I get told off for loitering ?
Would the AK be on cask breather ?
Yes. A couple of Old Boys on the beer and later a young lad snatching lunch-time Guinness. No takers for the Old School lunches (“Cod with parsley sauce, £10.95”), but then that’s what Spoons kills first.
No, I was treated like a guest, not an irritant.
And as for cask breathers, who cares ?
It was cool, creamy and just as I vaguely remembered from 1990, coincidentally the same year as most of the Cooper’s soundtrack (“Wicked Game“).
Our two brave heroes discussed colds, asthma and Covid lockdown.
“If it gets me, it gets me. I’m just staying well clear of people“. Excellent attitude.
Chris Isaak gave way to Scritti Politti, which I can never spell correctly, so it was time to go.
A lovely, unspoilt town club, which I can just about forgive for the early Halloween decorations. But only just.