retiredmartin

In 1975 the Indian cricket team, invited to chase an England total of 334 in 60 overs in the first World Cup match, said “Nah, no thanks“, and stoically dead-batted their way to 132 for 3 for the draw. Sadly, there’s no draw in limited overs matches.

In similar fashion, I’d long ago given up on repeating GBG completion in 2023, and like Gavaskar in ’75 batting 134 balls for 36, have slowed ticking to a halt in recent months. Still the odd highlighting highlight, mind.

July was a month spent entirely in England, though Uttoxeter always feels a different continent, let alone country.

The month’s travel map reveals 2,000 odd miles and 40 hours of travel, mostly by East Midlands Rail, which surely deserves some award.

HIGHLIGHTS

Lots of our country looked lovely, even in one of the dampest months in memory. Pubs look great at dusk, don’t they ?

We got the campervan out and about, and although technically we never left Yorkshire the overnighter in Castle Howard felt a different world, and the Grapes in Slingsby was both a sensational exhibition of tat and the unifying power of the pub on a Sunday evening.

I reckoned the Grapes, and the wonderful Racehorse in Westhall were Pubs of the Month.

I almost made peace with Cromer, where the Red Lion on a third visit became my Favourite Pub In Norfolk, albeit from a short shortlist.

Most years I finish the new London entries before Christmas, so these Summer saunters around St Pancras and Southall have been a joy,

Note how in the Skinners Arms I predicted the overdue success of Greene King Abbot in winning Beer of the Century (check that, RM) at the Great British Third Sipping Festival this week.

But my Beer of the Month was, inevitably Dancing Duck’s Dark Drake at, Johny’s in Burslem, only just edging out the Plum Porter across the road, and I’m delighted for Johny that’s the case.

The best food of the month, Chung Hwa notwithstanding, was the new Katsu chicken curry at Spoons,

which is certainly a redemption of sorts for JDW.

In contrast the chilled cheese and black pudding cob in Pensnett was a Black Country black mark,

and the bus ride to Wolverhampton would have been a torture device applied to regicides had it been available in France in 1757.

But enough of my moaning.

In August I will mainly not be going to the Great British Beer Festival, but it would be nice to finish some exciting counties before the the new GBG lands (ugh) whenever it lands.

And tick some more churches in places you’ve never heard of.