A few miles downstream of Bridgnorth lies Hampton Loade, home to my final Salopian tick of GBG22.

Hampton Loade sounds like a posh bit of south Shropshire, doesn’t it, and I vaguely recall the station as a stop on the Thomas the Tank Engine steam train (32 guineas each way, I believe).

The route down from the B4455 is winding and narrow and scary, but the end of the road is rather magical.

Hampton Loade seems to consist entirely of a mobile home park and a campsite, so there’ll be plenty of custom for the Unicorn, no ? (No).

They’ve even found one of those of those retro tree houses for the kidz. Mrs RM said I couldn’t go on it.

This is a holiday camp style pub, nothing wrong with that. The Five (5) Miles From Anywhere up the River Cam from me did very well with that for years.

You can trust a pub with foam sweet dispensers, I always say.

Lunch must have just ended, which is a shame, as 2 hours after fish and chips I’m ready for bargain pheasant stew.

Have I ever told you how Mrs RM mixed up pheasant and peasants when my mother-in-law ran one over in Tunbridge Wells ?

Anyhow, this is the closest seat to the bar. There’s a lot going on here.

And at the bar.

Will I ever get tired of this “beers you’ve heard of” trend in the GBG ? No, never.

The Banks’s Bitter was cool and drinkable (NBSS 3), a chap across from us (the only other custom at 15:00) was drinking it, slowly. No idea about the one on the left, some sort of grapefruit DIPA from Burton, I guess.

Mrs RM returned from the Ladies.

You MUST go and see the rudy dudies !” she said, and she was right, and I would have blamed her if I’d been caught.

I loved the Unicorn. Friendly, cheap, unfussy.

But some standards were still being maintained, at least.

For a list of pubs that DO still allow pyjamas and dressing gowns, sign up to be a Patronised reader now.


  1. Good old Hampton Lode, scene of many a drunken camping weekend (on the other shore). We would camp on a very basic campsite within a stagger of the Lion Inn, by far the better of the two pubs back then. Ferry across for the train to Bewdley or Bridgnorth, and invariably arrive back too late for the last ferry so had to scale the fence upstream and get across the river c/o Severn Trent Water. The Unicorn was a last resort for basket meals and very poor beer, but then we were looking for more ‘authentic’ pub thrills back then.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Used to be a member of the Severn Valley Railway and had some great days out there. Used to stop off at Hampton Loade and get that ferry, which was run by a couple of old crones IIRC.
      The railway has pubs at each end and I do remember a BRAPA-worthy exchange in the Kidderminster one.
      Elderly posho to Brummie accent barman: What exactly is the steak sandwich?
      BAB: well it’s a sandwich with steak.
      EP: yes, but what is it?
      BAB: Well it’s just a steak sandwich. With onions.
      EP: Yes, I’m sure, but what precisely is it?
      BAB: It’s a bit of steak in two bits of bread. What don’t you understand?
      Priceless. I chortled into my Batham’s.

      Liked by 2 people

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