Christmas Eve just doesn’t work without the pub, does it ?
A year ago I nursing a half in Dutton’s while I waited for Matt to have a post-work Punk with his new workmates (in Spoons),
though in 2017 we ended up with an Arrogant Bastard in a dingy Los Angeles Travelodge as the bars were closed.
A damp squib this year, of course, but I was determined to TOUCH a pub, so took the fast lane to Kelham.
Yes, I’m barely a quarter hour’s walk from the Valley of Beer, passing some gorgeous stonework on the way.
Kelham looked lovely but lonely, but the approach to the Fat Cat always puts a spring in your step.
4pm on Christmas Eve. Even Cambridge pubs would have been heaving with Old Boys on their 5th pint by now. But in 2020 you just get a gaggle of lads tossing a coin to choose between Kernel
in from the Kelham Island Tavern or Pale Rider from the Cat.
I’d already ticked the takeaway from the KIT, and I wanted to peep in (with my zoom lens) what is still one of my Top 10 pubs.
Oooh. Ain’t it lovely.
And ain’t it sad, confined to filling milk bottles full of Pale and Stout. 4 pints for a tenner; they might last Mrs RM till midnight.
Ten minutes later I caught the “revellers” sinking their cask straight from the 2 pint containers.
Makes you proud to be a Northerner.