If they ever return to Leek so Dick can drink strong Belgian beers, I recommend the minute bus journey out to the Black Lion in Cheddleton in the underrated Staffordshire Moorlands.
Or you can take the heritage steam train from Froghall, as long as you’re dressed as a child from the 1920s.
Cheddleton is gorgeous, particularly down mysterious Hollow Lane with its views from St Edward the Confessor (of crimes against cask).
How heartening to see the traditional pub next to the parish church, heaving with life on a sunny Sunday evening.
It’s quieter inside,
and like my earlier tick in Bollington may be a bit too “tasteful” for some tastes.
But I love the basic pubbiness, the bench seating, the blues soundtrack. baby doll in the outside area.
And the Bass, in a cask line-up that will cause agonising decisions for many.
But not me. I saw 4 pints of Bass pulled while I was there, and this was one of the freshest pints in ages, AND I was offered a top-up. Served in the Derby style with tight head, an easy 3.5+. #CaskIsBack.
It felt like the whole village was there, and the barman had a brief conversation with all of them, mainly about heroic drinking sessions from the night before.
Wonderful, as is a photo of a pint of Bass with lacings. So here it is;