Excuse the lack of a nice map. I’m typing this at Cornfield Bakery in Thame, listening to Ghostbusters. Which is appropriate as it’s always 1984 in Thame. Ooh, Kids in America now.
North Yorkshire pub No.2 was the Uber Gastro Alice Hawthorn in Nun Monkton.
That’s not the pub above, it’s the motel extension. It was my favourite part.
You might think young BRAPA is spoilt for trad pubs in York, but if he gets his taxi to drive him 5 miles west it’s a minefield of politeness.
We entered via the pantry.
No flat caps here.
And no bar obvious, either, as all we saw were room after room set for elegant dining.
Ah, it’s the smallest room.
The bar was empty, so I had chance to snap the pumps before the World’s Strongest Men pipped us. I think he was lost.
“Half a Landlord, half a Guzzler and two packets of crisps”.
“We don’t sell crisps, Sir”
“What, run out ?”. Mrs RM was crestfallen.
“We don’t SELL crisps”
“What sort of pub doesn’t sell crisps?” wondered Mrs RM.
The sort of pub where drinkers are an irritant and the Guzzler has been sat in the pipes longer at than that Welsh pub with the Prosecco Batman, I guess (look it up yourself).
NB Mrs RM did like the easy listening soundtrack, she says now.