Mrs RM is determined to help me get the Beer Guide ticked, and 10 days ago we set off on another campervan adventure to conquer Gloucestershire and around, a tricky county to get an away win on a damp Friday in May.
2:28 hours to our Ledbury diversion, as we oddly find that Herefordshire is better for “opening hours” than you’d guess.
My quiz question is “What is Coppice”, appearing to be as big as Manchester and WIrral on the map ?
The second question is “Why is the M42 always so busy ?“. That’s a trickier one.
Ledbury seems quite busy, but that’s only because an ambulance is blocking the route in and out of our black and white gem.
When the ambulance goes Mrs RM nicks the last empty space. 30 minutes free, that’ll do.
“You’ve been here before” she says, staring at the Feathers.
And she may be right. Back in Easter 2003 she drove me round fifteen (15) pubs on the English/Welsh border and I know I did five non-GBG pubs in Ledbury in 55 minutes while she was in Boots.
So I may have been in the Feathers, but it’s certainly not the only hotel bar that looks like this.
Though surely you’d remember lampshades in boots ?
Our entrance reduces the average age from 76 to 74.2,
and increases the number of pints poured all day to one.
Astonishingly, we’re (finally) served at the bar rather than being ushered to a table.
Actually, that may not be true, but there’s no sign of our gentlefolk diners on anything other than wine or soda, and the Ledbury isn’t bad at all.
“It’s beautiful” says Mrs RM, insightfully, missing the point of a pub. But she’s right. I can almost forgive a soundtrack of Annie Lennox (NOT “Diva”) and Chris Rea deep cuts (if such a thing is possible).
We still have 12 minutes free parking, so I make Mrs RM walk Church Lane. You’ll know what’s there.
“You go in if you want !” says Mrs RM, who clearly forgets the brutal discipline needed to tick the GBG.