retiredmartin

12th February 2023.

After seven (7) Lancashire micropubs in a row on Saturday, a Proper Pub on Sunday as I head to Ormskirk, whose new MP I’d just heard speaking on the local politics show.

Ashley Dalton’s first job will surely be to ensure some geographical consistency to Ormskirk’s Beer Guide entries. I thought I had to do the Prince Albert, just west of town, but it had already appeared under “Westhead”. Why is it NOW under Ormskirk ?

West Lancs is full of unpretentious canalside dining pubs, and I did wonder if I’d actually ticked the Kicking Donkey under a “Scarisbrick” heading in the GBG.

Apparently not. Looks very similar to pubs called the Ship or Bucket of Blood or whatever.

I enter to the sound of this 70s classic;

and it’s the best thing about the pub, though the staff are really cheery.

Tellingly, the first word in What Pub’s description is “elegant”. Four dining areas, all set for dining.

I sense it’s going to be a flying visit, and stupidly pick the beer with the hexagonal clip with the word “vegan” on it.

Gentlefolk start to appear at 12:03. A couple are told that if they want a seat by one of the fires they’ll need to come back in a couple of hours. And they do.

I mean, they’re nice fires, but…

I feel that I’m banished to the side room (the only space without knives and forks and serviettes and condiments) as a non-diner, the room with the antiques and original copies of “Essays in Literature and History” by J.A. Froude.

The first sip of Hex is promising enough (3), despite the monstrous thin glass,

but within 5 minutes it’s a bit tasteless and buttery, the “taste of veganism” I decide unfairly.

And then staff approach my table with knives and forks and well, and I decide to head off, pausing only to admire the incongruous Tubz dispenser.

Jelly sharks, heh ? What times we live in.