Our Great Northern Campervan Tickathon heads for the coast now, with Mrs RM trying to play Don McLean but ending up with Don Maclean.
We nipped into the Lakes proper, but you’ll have to wait till I get the laptop back for that.
Instead we head to Cockermouth where Mrs RM failed to find clothes, and then to Seaton where we found beer and crisps at the Royal Oak.
Even in Workington you can never be sure if your new GBG pub is going to be Brunning & Price or Craft Union.
The Royal Oak, bursting with 4pm Golden Hour rays, is emphatically the latter.
Mrs RM is a bit reticent about the Old Man pubs I used to subject her to in the glory days pre-smoking ban (often Bolton, to be honest), but this is a cheery community pub clinging on to a lone pump of cask. And a brand new crisp range.
“I love those new crinklys !” confides the landlady as she hands Mrs RM the megabag.
“They’re very moreish“.
And indeed the crinklys are sublime, as is Mrs RM’s White Witch (3.5), another appropriate beer name.
I suddenly wish I wasn’t driving, particularly as the coke has a diuretic effect and I can’t spell diuretic.
BRAPA will love this place. Has he been ?
A giant collusion of Hi Vi’s, Old Boy and Village Raconteur discuss their most embarrassing scar, all of which involve alcohol and guns
“I left my hearing aid in the wash” shouts the slightly deaf bloke.
I decide I don’t want to leave. The bench seating is SO comfortable
But night is descending and it will soon be witching hour in Maryport.
So I sup up the foamy dregs of the White Witch and claim the tick.