retiredmartin

As you’ll know, my favourite website (apart from my own) is MumsNet, where worried mums ask the immortal question.

Am I Being Unreasonable….

My advice, owmn, is to tell DD (Dear Daughter) that Christmas is all Roman/Pagan/Victorian nonsense NOW, and save yourself a fortune on presents.

While you’re at it, scrap Mother’s Day, Bonfire Night and your wedding anniversaries and concentrate on the here and now. Saving pubs.

Mrs RM was desperate to save a pub on Friday night, but slightly less excited about saving the White Horse, up the road in Milton.

To be fair, it’s not a classic pub, with gentlefolk diners (us) confined to a functional add-on without pictures (or diners). And of course the public bar/pool room isn’t getting much use at the moment.

The seating round the corner isn’t bad,

but of course you don’t get to choose your own seat in 2020, and I had to be very brave to linger a second to capture the pumps and the specials board.

Wow ! Doom Bar and one from across the field, aproper choice. (Or is the ribbon this year’s Rosey Nosey pump clip ?).

It’s a friendly, hardworking pub (aren’t they all these days), and they had their work cut out with old folk not knowing the new rules about masks, lads wanting a beer, and Mrs RM complaining it was too cold (it wasn’t).

Pints of Justinian arrived at 17:10. Crystal clear and sherberty (?), aided by rare Black Sheep glasses, oddly. Five pints into The Return of Pubs (II) and not one of them below NBSS 3.5.

The only sound was the jingle of knives and forks being put away. We had a family chat about “the event”, and rather forgot we’d been waiting 40 minutes for food.

The Landlady came over and told us she’d had to throw our food away because the chef had burnt it (or something, those plastic visors make conversation hard).

We didn’t mind the wait. Mrs RM had a second pint, a lady came by and said “Is it cold in here“, becoming Mrs RM’s best friend, and four lads were unable to decide between Carling, Fosters and San Miguel.

At 6pm the Thai fishcakes came and they were great, especially the chips you can’t see.

Suddenly I realised I’d been sold a pup. Mrs RM had the seat facing the bar; I was staring into the smokers garden. NEVER take a seat where you can’t see the bar.

One of the lads said “Mastication”, which I believe was a B-side to a John Foxx single in 1980. It may have been Ultravox. Mark will know.

Tier 1 can’t come soon enough.