South Normanton isn’t a place you go to by accident. Unless you’re after a cheap chippy, only the GBG will drag you there.
BRAPA wrote “suddenly South Normanton became very ‘real’ very quickly with hooded kids on bikes stinking of weed, dark eyed fat ladies in tattoo parlours, fried chicken shops and nail bars a plenty“.
Several good Guide pubs over the years, including BRAPA favourite the Devonshire Arms with its Sarah Hughes Ruby, but I’m here for the new micro.
Never trust a micro’s opening hours, or a Derbyshire mining town clock (watch ?).
The word unprepossessing was actually invented for the Market Tavern.
Luckily the clock in the Tavern is wrong too, and it’s not one of those joke ones that go backwards.
Blokey micro, beer connoisseur’s line-up, and Bad Kitty (NBSS 3) picks itself, doesn’t it ?
There is some truly weird seating available, but also some where your feet touch the floor. Is it just old people like me who want their feet to touch the floor ?
A bit blokey beery, but at least there’s comfort and Mondrian windows and music. “Time After Time” becomes “Push The Button” as Cyndi makes way for the Sugababes; I feel it should be the other way round.
The beer delivery man pulls up outside and the barrels are rolled in.
“Ah, Jangles, excellent” says someone. That’s a beer I think. The conversation turns to “Meet the Brewer” night. Time to leave.
I consider adding 0.5 to the NBSS score for the Karen Gillan cut-out on the stairs to the cellar, but that’s (probably) sexist.
My brief exploration of Alternative South Norm takes in the gothic,
and the Victorian,
and the plain bizarre.
But I suddenly realise what I need,
and pick the chippy with the weirdest possible name.
They were OK. I can say no less, but no more.