Much as I love Blackpool and Preston, I was pleased to get away from MicroCaskGin bars and back to pubs that look like pubs (blimey, listen to me), even if they are gentlefolk dining pubs in the heart of pashmina Suffolk.
I mean, look at the White Horse in Sibton;
20 minutes from Southwold, 20 minutes from Latitude, 20 minutes from Ed Sheeran’s home town. And 20 minutes from where tiny RetiredMartin used to come on holiday at the Cakes & Ale caravan park in Leiston 45 years ago. Never been back.
In fact, I hadn’t been to this blob of rural Suffolk`for five years, and goodness me it’s quiet. No wonder John Peel loved it. It’s not for me, though the two pubs in Laxfield are corkers.
I’d phone the White Horse in Sibton twice and sent them a Facebook message to confirm they’d be open on Saturday. I guess if you’re not open Saturday lunchtime there’s no point.
A smart car in the car park;
I said “nice car” to the gentlefolk owners, even though I had no idea what it is. Batmobile ?
It’s a classy affair. Staff still masked up, Landlady bringing out fish and chips, no obvious Sheeran.
No Adnams Southwold either. What happened to the plain Bitter ? Hardly ever see it these days.
Let’s not complain, tough. My last Suffolk tick is cool, and strawy (is that a word ?), NBSS 3+ I guess.
And it’s a different world to those North Western micros, upmarket country folk with a bottle of wine in a bucket saying “Have a taaaaaste of this” and “That’s terrrribly nice“. I love positivity.
I had a nosey round the pub, making sure not to fall in the cellar,
and admiring the 17th century smoking shelter.
OK, I only saw one other pint pulled (Wherry), but mine was good so who cares ?
Cheered by my tick I walked into the village, which confusingly turns out to be Peasenhall rather than Sibton, about which WIki has little to say bar this analysis of occupations from 1881 (thanks to Katie Aldridge).
No “pub tickers” in 1881.
I do however note that Peter Purves, born in Preston where I was 2 days earlier, now lives in Sibton, though he’s not in the village shop when I pop in for a Mother’s Day card and Bakewell tart and tell a lady who wins £100 on a scratch card that “her day is getting better and better” for no reason.
In other news, ain’t daffs lovely ?