Running out of blog material fast, so let’s hope that pubs get re-designated as schools and re-opened on 8th March. I’ll be happy to teach 8 year olds how to construct GBG ticking spreadsheets if it helps.
The next mystery pub is actually a mere Fosbury flop away from the Hampshire border, which you won’t see on the map extract.
The initials of the village are something you DEFINITELY don’t want, but the pub itself is harmless enough.
Nearby there’s a school that sounds like a ’70s post-punk band that’s regained its elasticity.
I turned up here (the pub not the school) last February, 2 weeks before Lockdown, just after lunch service.
It was packed with mums and mini-mums, and the Landlady seemed surprised to see a lone bloke after a beer. But it was a decent drop, actually a double drop.
I don’t remember leaving a mess;
All the folk here were well-dressed, no-one buys their clothes from Asda here. Quite why I didn’t blog about it is a mystery, but it WAS a busy February.
The Yorkshire puddings alone deserve a post.
The conversation was a bit dull.
“That’ll be £3.90 altogether, Sir”
But at least I was able to choose where I sat, and a year on I can only look back with fondness.