15 minutes after leaving the rural idyll of Niweton iuxta Derwent Mrs RM was parked up behind Pocklington Market Place, still trying to connect her phone to the campervan.
“YOU go to your silly pub. I’LL stay here and fiddle with electronics“. She is so selfless.
Pocklington was one of my last ticks before the pandemic, and it was interesting to see how much life was returning to normal 18 months one.
The Market Tap was just about to be taken over by Brew York, but since they described that as “awesome news” I certainly wasn’t paying a return visit.
My new tick wasn’t the one with the impressive Union Jack/foliage combo, either.
Nope. The Feathers Hotel is a rare authentic hotel bar open to all, as opposed to a pub with a few rooms on the back.
They’re obviously proud of their GBG21 entry,
unless the Chef De Partie is expected to cook with unsold Beer Guides.
What a joy to enter a bar early evening and hear that buzz of pointless conversation from folk of all ages.
Still a shock to the system to squeeze into the space at the bar not occupied by blokes on stools drinking Kronenbourg 1664, the national drink of the East Riding.
I gave Check Shirt Man plenty of space at the bar and he STILL attempted to bump into me with his complex order, which he completed after 3 journeys, apologising to me thrice.
I ould suddenly see the case for table service and apps.
It was great to be back.
I went for the last beer pulled, and got a cool, crisp Leeds Pale (3.5) in a Robinsons glass. A 95% male crowd were on great form, too.
“She collapsed and died in the street. But she’s recovering now.”
“That’s good. Did the paratroopers give her, y’know, the third degree ?”.
A really good addition to the “slightly upmarket drinking houses” section of the Guide. I just had time to admire All Saints before Mrs RM confirmed she’d given up with the technology.
Some lovely features. Here we see King Duncan IV ruling on whether BRAPA’s pint of John Smith Smooth in Bishop Auckland’s Welcome can really count as a GBG tick.
No, Si, it can’t.