
Right, time to finish Bucks.

Only nine new entries out of fifty-four, par for the course, and the usual mix of gentrified dining pubs and gentrified dining pubs.

Not the last one, though. The George Ale House in Great Missenden replaces the “Pub & Kitchen” Cross Keys in the GBG,

and brings the first bit of excitement to what Wiki calls “an affluent village… on the Metropolitan line” since the Red Pump Garage ran out of fuel.


It was raining, despite village protests, and Mrs RM opted to sit in the campervan posting pictures of avocado on toast while I explored a run of pointless shops called Alphabet Soup and the like.

I would have gone in the Roald Dahl museum but you had to have booked on line in 1983.
So let’s do the tick, as they say in the States.
At exactly 12:00 I was patiently standing outside The George with my coins in hand. Looks very micro, doesn’t it ?

I was still standing outside in the rain at 12:07. beginning to panic. Fashionably late, or unexpectedly close to attend a CAMRA Pub of the Season award at Chequers or something. I paced up and down, annoying the other pedestrian.
And then the door opened.
Definitely not micro.


Rather gorgeous, in fact.

One for the Old Codgers, in fact.
I had a pint of the Tring Brock, I always have a pint in the last GBG tick in a county, and took it on a tour of the pub.
Not there.

Or there.

This looks perfect (ignore the scatter cushions, Mudgie).

Lovely, a proper chewy bitter (3.5) to finish too. All it needed was a few folk in to chat to, but I guess people just don’t do lunchtime drinking these days. Reminded me of the drinkers pub in Crewkerne, and that only opens at 16:00 (and is packed within 10 minutes).
Let’s go to Hertfordshire; it’ll be busy there.
Great to see the renaissance of the George in Missenden. I grew up in the village and have happy memories of my early drinking days in the Nags Head, Cross Keys and White Horse in the 80s. Proper boozers then, mainly Ind Coope or Whitbread. Looks like they’ve all gone a bit posh now!
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Neither fake ceiling beams nor Amtico floorboards – what more could the wearied eye want?
It’s a beauty, is that, Martin.
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