Oh yes, it’s back to the obvious blog titles now as we veer south to Middleham, home of the Dales horsey racing community (apparently).
825 souls served by 4 pubs, a chippy and more Bed & Breakfasts than the whole of Middlesbrough.
It’s a gorgeous village with cobbled market place desecrated by vehicles. Including ours.
No, she didn’t scrape that Morgan Plus 4.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been here before; the Richard III looks a GBG cert, despite the Tetley heritage.
Richard III was, of course, a fictional character invented by the fictional Shakespeare in his novel about Leicester car parks. Check Facebook if you don’t believe me.
It’s great to see pubs like this busy with Old Boys at tea time on Monday, even if the bar flies mean there’s no chance of a seat from which I can join in the banter about Eric (there’s always an Eric) and a joke that starts “I got a horse for your wife“.
And anyway, Mrs RM grabs the table next door and patiently awaits her Black Sheep, another crisp and clean* 3.5.
We use our phones and ignore each other for 20 minutes and I remember why I love pubs.
What is that horse doing at the bar ?
The “Best of 1989” CD gives us “Angel of Harlem” followed by “She Drives Me Crazy“, a 1989 I rather missed.
The chalkboard, likewise, gives us a summary of pub dining c.1989 (or 2021).
Two pubs into the Dales, so time for a short walk down Straight Lane to the River Cover.
And then it’s time to park up for the night.
*Thanks Citra for the word “clean” which I will now use every post.