I’ll be honest, I was fair knackered by the time I finished a 5 hour circuit of western Derby, but two GBG ticks (and some extras) made the legs hurt a bit less and when I arrived home my activity chart said 29,287 steps. I reckon that’s the equivalent of at least 4 pints, don’t you.
Stage 2 of the walk actually took me through a pleasant leafy bit of parkland towards New Zealand (Derby), rather more charming than California.
But the stretch along the edge of the soon-to-be expanded A38 was littered with boarded buildings and a concrete jungle encroaching into nature.
In these circumstances, you need a pub, and the Creaky Floorboard hove into view at 14:59, right on opening. I am the truly blessed.
I could have slumped straight into the corner with a pint, but there was a degree of commotion as a neighbour had locked themselves either in, or out. I never found out. This is a common characteristic of micropubs but I won’t pass judgement.
Something from Falstaff, lovely and cool and rich (3.5). “And a pie please“. It took a while to find it out the back. I held my breath. “Or scratchings will do if not“. I really wanted a pie.
Well, that pork pie was a straight fiver, which I always assumed bought you two pints in Derby, but I hereby award it Pie of the Month. The size of BRAPA’s head and I still ate it smothered in mustard before taking a photo.
No notes either, as I had a long and rambling conversation with a Landlord with a life story involving East Dereham, and other dangerous places.
Quite a big small pub, with several rooms and a bit of a contrast between the music wall,
and the arty wall.
But it was the flamingo wallpaper I wanted to rave about. “Blame the wife” said our hero. On the contrary, I loved it.
And I loved his recommendation for Bass in Derby, and that’s where I headed next.