My tricky Alderney tick in the bag, I walked down to Braye beach to share the good news with Mrs RM.
She was thrilled, as you’d expect, but turned down my offer of a Doom Bar in the Divers.
“Don’t forget to take all your stuff” I called, shuffling off in search of a pre-emptive.
The flight back left in four hours, and oddly Mrs RM saw no appeal in the attractions (heritage railway, Nazi concentration camp, endless forts).
But we did seek out this tribute to the Wombles, which was filmed here. Mrs RM was convinced this was Bungo. Look closely…
There’s some gorgeous colours in St Anne, notably here at The Marais Hall, apparently the only keg pub.
But What Pub is not to be trusted.
Not only does the Braye Hotel (adjacent to the Divers) serve Butcombe on the beach, but there’s a completely unmarked bar of some vintage on the High Street.
I checked the Google reviews. The recent was euphoric.
Yes, the “food was food and the drink was drink”, my kinda town. Even if it is, apparently, in France.
Stay classy, Jonathan.
Inside, you could have been in South Croydon. A dozen blokes, and one Frenchman ordering the Guinness last.
And here’s your handpump.
“Nice to see cask” I said,
hoping for CAMRA discount. A rotating beer, apparently; the next one on was Doom Bar. Feel my pain to have missed it.
“That’s MINE !. That’s my glass !” said the bloke behind me as I went to take a swig. Shades of Foxfield.
The Bath Gem (£3.80) was creamy and decent enough. NBSS 3- if I’m honest.
It’s a Proper Pub, where the WiFi works, the food is priced as £8.00 not 8, and the soundtrack included “Torn“, “Driftwood”, and “Lifted“. Your late ’90s pop essentials.
Obligatory pub dog, too.
At the bar, staff talked about the problems of workers getting affordable accommodation on the island for the summer, priced out by the boaty types, and I remembered all those pubs struggling to keep staffed on the south coast.
It probably won’t make the Guide, but I liked the Campania a lot, even if they did look suspiciously at my Scottish £20 note (mind, so did the Scots).
We ambled along the coast, making a special trip to see the “happy pigs” near the airport. “Happy, I’d say content and unflustered” said Mrs RM.
We made darn sure we caught the 16:20 flight to Guernsey, along with two (2) other passengers.