One last tick in 2021, on a rather quiet New Year’s Eve in Richmond, the Bewdley of the North.
It seemed only a few months since I was last here, and indeed it was, as Richmond provides its annual new GBG pub.
Unlike Mrs RM, they hadn’t taken the deccies down yet.
Last few times here in Summer, you couldn’t move.
In a world of Omicron fear, it’s the quietest I’ve ever seen it.
There were a few folk in Penley’s Cafe in the Market Place, where we counted down the minutes to the opening of the Castle Tavern over matching roasted vegetable paninis and admired the amount of chips a toddler managed to throw on the floor.
Two regulars were waiting outside the Castle at 11:58 to see in 2022. One of them complimented the landlady on her dress. I would NEVER compliment Mrs RM on her dress as it’s objectivisation; instead I would say “Well done on earning enough to buy that dress, Mrs RM“. That’s why we get on.
“You go first” I say to the two lads as the door opens at 12:01, confirming it’s not a wasted trip, but they’re dithering over their choices (John Smiths Smooth. “We’re just happy being in the warm“.
It’s a typical North Yorkshire market town pub. Unfussy but smart enough for the visiting gentlefolk.
Mrs RM chooses the seat,
while I choose the homebrew. ALWAYS choose the Christmas one (OK. it was OK), folks.
Mrs RM chooses the Yorkshire gin, but has to have the whole menu read out before she decides on “Rhubarb Whippet” flavour.
The two locals are having fun with the jukebox, shifting from “Irish Festive Favourites”,
to 2021 R & B seamlessly.
“We’re doing our bit for Queen and country, Sue, going out early to avoid Covid later“. I doubt they’re going anywhere.
The calming influence of dining gentlefolk with dogs then descended on the pub, and all was well with th world.
Until our two local boys started on about nurses uniforms; then it went downhill a bit.