If you’re stuck for which photo to lead with on your blog post, ALWAYS go with the pub cate.
I assume this is the house cat for Riddlesden’s Willow Tree, she certainly seemed at home (pub cats are always girls, aren’t they ?).
I’d phoned ahead, breaking one of my main rules of pubbing, to ask whether they’d be open, and again the message was “Aye, long as it isn’t raining”.
It was a tense drive to reach the edge of Keighley before the weather turned.
Actually, that wasn’t the route. Instead Google Maps took me back past the Junction and through the rush hours of Saltaire. Why, Google, why ? The trek across Bingley Moor looks lovely, and quicker.
Anyhow, stop moaning Taylor. Riddlesden was enticing in a way that Keighley never could be despite the proximity of a brewery whose name I always forget, and the Willow Tree perches next to a secret cave housing a future micropub called The Riddle of the Cask Den (hours : closed) with tables outside.
The locals all stare from the comfort of their cover, possibly more at my parking than Simon waving his green pen in the air.
Then they return to their lager, but there’s no “Hullo stranger” here.
It feels very Lancashire, perhaps it was like those nice towns the Yorkies stole back in the day, all robustness and unfussy decor.
Oh, I spoke too soon, posh handwash.
The beer is a letdown. “Hmmm, honey & thin? On a bit too long?” I muse, because that’s the insight Beer Twitter expects of us professional bloggers. The word I was reaching for was diacetyl, Si.
But to be honest, it scarcely mattered as the setting by the bubbling brook with feline company was majestic. Obviously the running water meant BRAPA had to pop back to the Gents a 3rd time, but it comes to us all.