Still in mid-September, still in Yorkshire, probably a Wednesday.
I know it’s Wednesday, as the Fox & Hounds in Starbotton was open.
Ain’t it pretty in Wharfedale ?
Mrs RM joined me for a walk to the point where she could get a decent shot for Instagram, which is the purpose of visiting the Dales.
That and ticking the GBG. Regular readers may recognise the name; the Fox & Hounds was the ONLY pub in North Yorkshire I didn’t get to last year after a clean sweep of GBG19.
OK, Starbotton, which I was convinced ended with an “m”, is a bit isolated but I was surprised it wasn’t open all week so people could admire the award-winning Christmas nativity scene. I’m convinced that BRAPA stole baby Jesus when he visited.
Although I’ve edited them out, the pub was heaving when we arrived just before 14:00, in time for lunch.
It’s a corker, though as we sat in that table on the left I’m glad no-one played “Yellow” on the piano. Mrs RM has joined a Sheffield “Rock Choir” you know; bet they sing “Yellow”.
One of the most polite pubs I’ve been in, from publicans to punters, and the least pretentious. Some of the folk looked like they’d ACTUALLY been out for a walk, rather than a hop between cafe and clothes shop.
Fish finger sandwich and soup/chips. Except the fish in the finger was practically a whale; one of the best value pub meals I’ll ever have. £20 the lot, from memory. I even got a tap on the shoulder from the cheery landlady when she brought the food. When was the last time YOU got a tap on the shoulder from a publican ?
And when was the last time you saw as many as half a dozen pints of cask sold in half an hour ?
I was DES by now, but Mrs RM Wharfedale Blonde was a cool, crisp 3.5. “Lovely” said Mrs RM.
And she was right.