Mrs RM roots out more casual sexism in today’s exciting episode, set in bucolic Barton Stacey.
You might know Barton Stacey from its service station on the A303 on the way to Stonehenge; it’s a pretty place.
Obviously I’d called ahead as pub openings can’t be guaranteed whatever it says in writing, and a lovely Landlady seemed thrilled we’d be visiting and would keep the bar open despite no food that night, possibly especially for us.
It’s a simple village pub with colours for Mrs RM to rage against.
But our table was picked to squeeze the last bit of Vitamin C out of the sun that has followed the righteous all summer (it’s sunny in Darlington RIGHT NOW, and I’m in a a Wetherspoons).
Only one beer on, Alfred’s Saxon Blonde or summat.
“And what would your wife like ?”
“The pint’s FOR my wife !” I said, defending her honour. Blimey, it’s 2021 not 1971. Mrs RM scowled, but not at me.
“Oooh, good to see a woman drinking a pint !” said the lanlady, recovering cheerfully.
The beer was, sadly, plain. But the pub sparkled with life and light.
Shame about the casual sexism running through to the Gents, which were otherwise exemplary,
Just for the benefit of our American readers, Kate Beckinsale once sold the News Line, a Trotskyist newspaper much beloved in radical Hampshire, which explains her popularity in Barton Stacey.
That night, tucked safely in Tunbridge Wells, my father-in-law began a conversation about his military service at Barton Stacey MOD site. I wanted to ask if he’d met Kate, but thought better of it.