So many pubs to tell you about and I’m only “dropping” (ugh) one post a day, basically the Kate Bush of blogging when I should be the Van Morrison. Or something.
Last Friday our second “near Workington” tick was in the flat farmland of Tallantire, somewhere I guarantee you will NEVER go.
Mrs RM has been warming to the joys of pub opening times recently. I let her examine the source materials for my assumption that the Bush would be open when we arrived just before 17:30.
That’s THE CAMRA folk, the organisation who just spent 3 days in Eastbourne deciding (checks notes) that Life Members were a drain on humanity*.
Anyway, 17:00 or 17:30 per Zuckerberg’s Facebook, who to trust ?
Well, neither, the pub is closed. There’s a sign on the window, which I expect to say “Closed for Easter” but is actually a menu that includes the words “Lemon Posset”.
There’s no website, so Mrs RM phones them. I know, that’s so rude, isn’t it ? “
“We open at six“
“Oh, I read you opened now“. DON’T disclose your sources, Mrs RM.
“WHERE did you read that ?”. Opening times are highly secret, you know.
I went for a walk, enjoying the country smells.
And then we were in.
It’s a gorgeous country pub.
We’ll excuse the scatter cushions.
On nearly every occasion I get a bit grumpy about opening times (always the conveying of them, never the times themselves), I find the pub itself and the people lovely.
An old school landlord and landlady who have clearly no truck with social media, the guvnor pulling through four pints before serving our halves of Rooster and Locale. “Can’t be serving you beer that’s not fresh, can I ?”.
The beer IS fresh crisp (NBSS 3.25), the atmosphere becomes lively and cheery by the minute, and by the time we head back to Workington the whole village is at the bar, dogs included.
And none of them are ordering Lemon Posset.
*I’m joking, honest, the CAMRA members who maintain What Pub and produce the GBG are all wonderful people and I often tell them so.