During what could be our last week in the revelry that is Tier 2 for a while (details soon), we’re keeping the unsung pubs in business by eating out now the cupboards have been stripped of
How about a non-GBG pub in Cambridge’s Newmarket Road ?
Not many of those left, which is a shame as United have just started bringing fans (2,000 of them) back to the Abbey to see the U’s squander their improbably good start to the season.
Cambridge in the Sunday fog (it’s sunny in Sheff) is an oddity. Loads of young professionals heading over the Cam with shopping from newly re-opened
Primark John Lewis, few of them heading to the pub.
I paused to admire the artwork on the wall as you leave Tesco for the magnificent vista that is Pizza Hut, Travelodge and Premier Inn.
I think I’ll call it “Emma”, after Matt’s lovely girlfriend, and because I saw Emma Pollock play at occasional (pre-Covid) live venue the Corner House on the, er, corner.
“That looks nice ?” said Mrs RM, who’d been walking for 5 minutes and was cold.
But I was headed for the pub next door, excitingly converted into a modern curry house and open at 4pm.
“We’re open, come in” it said on the door and on Facebook. But clearly it wasn’t. Who can you trust these days ? At least Tier 3 micropubs are closed when they say they’re closed.
So, tail between my legs, I retraced my 10 steps (Mrs RM -25) to the Corner House. Which suddenly looked rather alluring.
I once had a pint of Bass here, 20 years ago, when Greene King had the odd idea to put it on as a guest.
Now the guests are less alluring, bar our feline friend. Probably called Emma too.
“Would you like to sit next to the bar ?” said the nice young man. Did he recognise me as The Man Who Needs To Sit At The Bar ?
Not only could I see the pumps (until our pub cat obscured them), but I could also capture the charity box for posterity.
Landlord or Tribute, gotta be the Landlord test.
Actually it was a bit inconclusive (NBSS 3), but better than the cask you’ll get in 93% of cask outlets in Scotland (which total 93). Mrs RM had the Meantime as it was cold, then went back for a can of High Wire from the fridge.
It was the only cask I saw pulled in an hour. In fact, I can’t remember much of anything served, as everyone else seemed to have wine with their late Sunday roast.
The Landlord came over to chat with us about Covid rates in Peterborough dragging down Cambridge, the soundtrack of Northern Soul was so niche it fooled my Shazam rip-off, and I just thought “What a nice neighbourhood pub, doing its best against the Covid odds“.
If I’d been staying in the budget hotel over the road I’d be happy to blow my expenses on the squid and burger and craft here.
Treasure our pubs, and our pub cats, and our gallows humour. It’s what makes this country great.