4th February 2023.
A first campervan outing of the year, and I remembered to take the 4 pint growler that previously held some cloud grapefruit DIPA acquired during lockdown.
Oddly, and worryingly, that liquid looks indistinguishable from the contents on Sunday morning.
We’d headed about an hour south on Saturday for that final Derbyshire tick, if only to prove the NV200 battery still works after a week in the cold.
The last mile into Parwich took 10 minutes, an army of sheep (top) arriving to block our path and seek Baa Baa Toure’s autograph.
Perhaps they’d noted that attempt by their cousins to derail our ticking in a tricky Claddach Kirkibost.
We closed our eyes and hoped the insurance covered a sheep charge, and arrived in Parwich to the first signs of Spring.
Parwich is one of the Derbyshire Dales villages that doesn’t get the crowds because it lacks twee tea shops and boutique B & B.
The Sycamore, a Proper Pub that doubles up as village store, just beat the launch of your Retired Martin blog and would have had a return visit if not for the scary Snowman.
Some impressive cobbles lead you to bumpy lanes and a sign for the Beer Guide entry;
where a sign at the top of the road tells you you’ve arrived too early for a beer, despite what What Pub and the Club’s Facebook tell you.
It was only 13:30. I dragged Mrs RM the 20 yards to look, anyway.
Not your typical squat RB. for sure.
Hang on. Is that gate open ?
We went in. The barman was in already attending to the ice maker, so we took a pew and he opened up early. I think Mrs RM found the seat under the stairs had the best WiFi reception.
Sometimes the sun that shines on the righteous brings earlier than advertised opening times, too.
“Waddle it be” ?
Geddit ? Geddit ?
With only one (1) pork pie left in the fridge, Mrs RM was more interested in the confectionary cupboard, but we settled on Pipers with our Dancing Duck.
Superb beer, cool and crisp we thought (NBSS 3.5/4) , though certainly not bargain. Living in Sheffield you get a rather rose-tinted view of the price of a pint.
Another drinker, here for the Rugby (whatever that is) turned up and berated the tourists who park in the picturesque streets rather than the free car park. I hadn’t seen any tourists, but I see his point.
The barman was desperate for some pound coins, despairing about a customer who bought his half with a twenty quid note. Must have been a GBG ticker.
It’s a lovely place of remembrance as well as a cheery boozer.
The photos of soldiers from recent conflicts is particularly poignant.
A classy place, too, as this photo in the Ladies (Mrs RM ushered me in) suggests.
So, two good options in Parwich, but beware the guard chickens. You have been warned.
Derbyshire done, where now ?
3 thoughts on “HELD UP ON THE WAY TO THE PARWICH LEGION”
To drink NBSS 4 beer in the best limestone dales in the country. Some folk have it all.
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Mrs RM had it all. I was driving. Gets worse, too.
Are you certain it’s you that completed the GBG and not Mrs RM?