I hope the return of BRAPA to the big league of pub blogging will see more famous titles like “Well Past My Selby Date”.
I expect Simon has been looking to use a Terence Trent D’arby reference since 1991, when TTD released the seminal “Neither Fish Nor Flesh“, which I am staggered to see Discogs value at a minimum of £1.39.
If I’d bought a thousand of them when they were going for 10p I could retire now. Oh.
Trips to North Notts are rarer than Man United fans without a misguided sense of entitlement, and I’d forgotten just how dull the Trent is.
That vaguely pink sky comes from toxic poisoning from the distant towers of Cottam Power Station, which is missing the kidz who normally fill nearby Sundown Adventure Land. I know it’s intended for the under-10s, but I’d go back to Sundown to play on the rapids and shooting ranges tomorrow.
My new GBG tick, the Brownlow Arms offer FREE camping for my campervan. In fact, the entire village of High Marnham appears to be a holiday village;
Those towers you can see are a decommissioned power station now used to produce seasonal specialty beers for micro pubs in Eastwood.
I’d phoned a nice lady 20 minutes earlier and asked if she’d be open if I detoured, as the weather looked a bit iffy.
Obviously by the time your virtuous (and modest) hero arrived the rain had passed and I was able to share the beer terrace with one other holidaymaking couple who completely ignored me despite my efforts. Don’t worry, I’m used to it at home.
Oooh, look. A beer menu.
Who or what is Prussia ? Did I miss a trick having the Tim Taylor ?
Not really, the Landlord was cool and foamy (NBSS 3 ish) and served in the UK’s favoured craft glass.
It was exactly the sort of rural pub I like, though I thought it might be smarter and more foody.
“Ay up Trace“
“All right my love“
followed by a discussion about bread mills in Cornwall Simon would have loved, just as he’d have enjoyed the trip to the Gents.
The landlady perked up when I added the artisan scratchings to my order.
“Good choice ! They’re my favourite ! I eat a packet every day !” (I think she exaggerated a bit).
The couple next to me, pleased that my arrival had held off the rain, ordered a packet.
“Bet they’re wrapped up individually like Ferrero Rocher !” said the lady. They weren’t, but they were good.
“And they’re local, from just outside Lincoln” I offered by way of conversation. No response.
Five minutes later…
“Oh look, they’re from Lincoln !”
Outside, the annual “Tongue stretching” derby was taking place between the tree house and the caterpillar.
It’s the caterpillar by the neck, I think, though it could be a deceptive camera angle.
Some folk will tell you a Proper Pub has a large range of ever-changing microbrewery beers filled with People Like Us, but I tell you this, you’ll never find a bad pub with a tree house and a caterpillar in the garden.