More “recommended” pubs for you before I turn to the Top County, which I’ll bring you as soon as I’ve arranged police protection from Tom Irvin.
A rare trip to Sudbury, I thought. But it turns out I was only there 3 years ago. Clearly Mrs RM was distracting me back then.
On another of those gorgeous autumnal afternoons that follow me around, I made a quick stop in Spoons for 2 flat whites before admiring the centre with its church,
and wheelbarrow shop.
In years past you’d have needed a wheelbarrow to lug around the new GBG, but this year’s edition comes without beer descriptions like “citrus”, “citrus” or “citrus” so it fits in a woman’s handbag.
Half an hour walk through the pleasingly unremarkable suburb of Great Cornard (pop. 99% schoolchildren) is the pub which will put Sudbury on the Pub Tourist Trail (particularly when it’s the only pub you can visit without buying a 3 course meal).
The Brook has been designed with a font to annoy/enchant Matthew Lawrenson;
I applaud the local touches, but advise keeping much further away from cows than indicated in the poster at the door.
There’s a blackboard with the ales on, so you can make up your mind and not dither near the bar,
but I don’t recognise any of those so I plonk myself at a table near the bar.
And then it started. A half hour of the irreverent, vibrant, life you get from pubs like the Dove up the road in Bury St Edmunds.
OK, I didn’t have pork scratchings in a half pint mug, and perhaps the Dove wouldn’t stretch to the pint of Tiny Rebel murk in that top photo, but these two could have otherwise been separated at birth.
Locals chatted about Covid, and the strange case of streets in the village of Bures, just down the road, in different tiers. I felt safe in the Brook.
They know how to clean hands.
I stayed for a half, served in a (fresh) pint glass of something from Mighty Oak I can only describe as nectar,
and then headed out, the wrong way, pausing just long enough to spy the Bass wall.
I spoil you, I really do.
retiredmartin 
Total fail whoever fitted that ceiling fan!…
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I’ve only been to that Sudbury once, and the one just across the Derbyshire border no more often.
Those wheelbarrows reminds me of
http://www.redbarrows.co.uk/
that I saw outside the Coopers Tavern in Burton – much better than the Red Arrows I thought.
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Who knew there were that many types?
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The prop makes a nice change from the deer’s head.
Did you find out who shot it?
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PS, here’s a classic view
https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@52.0208714,0.7461605,3a,30y,135.28h,90.3t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sI_N0_jk2M-dSUiNghXxbpw!2e0!7i13312!8i6656
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Shame about the fire extinguisher next to the rather enticing (but sadly unlit ) fireplace
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It’s for if the badly fitted ceiling fan overheats.
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There are way too many unlit fires in pubs when the weather turns, as it has done.
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The fire was lit in Ypres castle in Rye last week & I got sat next to it -very cosy
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One of the most cosy pubs I know.
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One of the best pub fires that I know is the coal-fired range in the Vale Of Glamorgan Inn in Cowbridge. It’s a really welcome source of warmth for the whole end of the pub, way before its ornamental value.
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“which I’ll bring you as soon as I’ve arranged police protection from Tom Irvin.”
(slow golf clap)
Oh, and I still think that Green Jack Brewery logo looks like he’s playing his thingy.
“A rare trip to Sudbury,”
Had a bit of a fright looking at the OS Map. For a second there I read Great Cornard on the far right as Great Covid. 😉
“and wheelbarrow shop.”
Are they implying that the fairer sex can’t handle anything over 90L?
(since nothing above that comes in lilac or pink)
“so it fits in a woman’s handbag.”
Ahem. And what about man purses I ask you?
“through the pleasingly unremarkable suburb of Great Cornard”
There it is again!
“but advise keeping much further away from cows than indicated in the poster at the door.”
Pfft. A la Monty Python are they talking dairy cows, Indian cows, beer cows or what?
(oh and the average length of a dairy cow is 2.45m for goodness sake!)
“There’s a blackboard with the ales on, so you can make up your mind and not dither near the bar,”
But no prices I see. 😉
“but I don’t recognise any of those”
Pull the other one!
“and the strange case of streets in the village of Bures, just down the road, in different tiers”
Blimey. They’ve gone from individual cities in lockdown to streets in the village?
“They know how to clean hands.”
OK, a few points:
– are you supposed to place your hands or the towels in the bins?
– what the hell is ‘on on way out’?
– what if you dear old mum took thalidomide back in the 60’s and you have no elbows?
– there is no such thing as a germ free environment (at least not outside of a certain type of lab)
“of something from Mighty Oak I can only describe as nectar,”
With that weird dude playing his thingy.
“I spoil you, I really do.”
I’ve tried that line many a time with my darling wife. It doesn’t work. 🙂
Cheers
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Perhaps the local sport of choice is Bullfighting?
Wonder if the propellor is salvaged from one of the Spitfires that did the beer runs on D-Day?
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No Fokker comes close !
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