Odiham. The Edenbridge of the, er, South.
Or is it North. Depends which way you’re facing, I guess.
It’s attractive, but once you’ve seen 57 half-timbered buildings you’ve seen them all.
Once again, Wiki is a bit bare when it comes to Odiham (pop. 4,406), with the only interesting reference being to the “Pest House”, where tickers who complained about short measure were detained until closing.
There’s a string of bistro-style places along the High Street with traditional names like Red Lion and The Bell and Bel (no relation) & The Dragon. Very Marlow.
Most of my time is spent reading Facebook pages for new GBG entries, trying to deduce whether they’re likely to be open (see previous post).
The Red Lion’s social media accounts are a joy, with accurate opening times and lovely pictures of the food;
The gourmet sausage roll is £6.50 if you’re after s snack. At least, I assume it’s £ sterling, as use of the £ is so 1999. It could be bitcoin.
Some Americans dream of pubs like this, all beams, and politeness and edible food.
Perhaps these high tables are less what they expect.
Two beers you’ve never heard of. Sorry, you’ve heard of TEA. The chap with the purple pullover round his shoulders hadn’t, and treated it with the wonder normally reserved for Pliny the Elder on gravity.
The two “meisters”, Pub and Malt, reviewed progress, and as I’d had the Tilford (I never learn) I was at least able to direct them toward the Hogs Back.
Honestly, they should have had the Tattinger. At least, Duncan should have. He’s done the Guide and could retire now like Nico Rosberg and laugh at our futile attempts to emulate him.
The Red Lion was roaring as we left, a dozen in, half of them excited schoolchildren from Robert May’s School asking Pater for crisps.
Probably those posh Jonathan Crisp pickled shimeji mushroom flavour.