Clickbait, of course. There IS no possibility of leaving Tier 3. Sorry, BeerMat, Wickingman, Old Mudgie et al.
But I had to return home to Waterbeach to collect some more of Mrs RM’s shoes and power tools this week, which I guess means I was in Tier 2.5 for a day.
I took the train, so I could drive back. Four different train companies, four legs totalling just over 2 hours.
With a 30 minute walk into central Sheffield to start.
Note the Beer & Gin Festival at the Bingo hall, they’re beer mad here.
I guess I should be thankful the pubs aren’t open. If they were I’d have been tempted to have a pint at every stop and kip over at my parents (they’re making a bed up for my weekly visits for when the pandemic is over).
The trains are nearly as sad as the pubs. Sheff to Donny was 20% full at best, so I had the sunrise over Rotherham all to myself.
Once South Yorks makes Tier 1 I’ll nip out here and visit all the cask gems in Swinton and Mexborough.
At Doncaster I had my 3rd coffee of the morning, an Americano from Costa. Why are there now FOUR sizes at Costa, each without description. The nice lady tried to upsell me a mince pie but I don’t celebrate Christmas.
As I walked to the end of the platform so I could drop my mask to take a sip, another lovely Donny belle (sorry) from LNER came up to me.
“Are y’allright ?” Hope she didn’t think I was going to jump.
We talked masks, and train use, and the superiority of Greggs mince pies, and I wished the Draughtsman had been open for a train beer even though beer isn’t allowed on LNER trains.
The stop at Newark Northgate gives me the opportunity to silently remember one of the great moments in pub blogging. I’m considering a “Spot the piss” competition; X marks the spot.
Peterborough Station is desolate. I’ve 25 minutes to wait, enough time to have nipped over the road to the Oakham Brewery Tap in Tier 1, vastly insufficient in Tier 2. Sadly, they’re in Tier 3 on Saturday.
So all I can share with you is this, on which I pass no comment but no doubt Russ will.
The slow train towards Ipswich crawls over the Hundred Foot Washes just past unpronounceable Manea. This is the ACTUAL view from the window.
And I suddenly realise how relieved I am to get out of the Fens, before they flood completely in 2131.
I’m living in the hills now, you know.