“No greater love hath a woman for her husband than that she would drive him round six West Lakeland pubs on a Friday afternoon to boost his Cumbrian ticks“. Thank you Mrs RM.
In truth, this was an easy run along the magnificent A595. The second tick of the day came within five minutes of leaving Whitehaven.
In truth I’ve been hoping for a tick in Corkickle, which sounds like something from Brookside, but only to impress Russ who’s gone AWOL anyway.
Mrs RM tried to look impressed by the pale hues,
and the athletic gnomes,
and a giant Coral with the ghost of a second bookies across the road.
Two bookmakers, and according to What Pub a dozen pubs in recent times, most closed.
Sadly, 2pm came and went and The Globe remained shut. A tall youth, skilfully anonymised by my edit function, knocked on the door.
At 14:02 he entered, had a can of Guinness, and moved into what I can only describe as the living room as it has a hoover in it. Fact fans will recall this is the first hoover in a pub since Mossley in 2017. Make a note.
I see a lot of pubs scrabbling around to meet opening times these days, however late in the day they open. No-one joined us in our 20 minutes in the Globe.
But we were made very welcome, chatted about betting shops (the second closed 30 years ago and left unchanged, apparently), and took the bench seats reserved for drinkers only.
The Ryder Cup had started, and was seemingly already lost, but no-one cared. It’s hard to be grumpy about anything these days.
I guess two microbrews gets you in the Guide, and after being pulled through thoroughly the Pale was certainly GBG standard (NBSS 3).
And once again it felt cosy. And when I say “cosy”, I don’t mean posh and food-led, either.