retiredmartin

August 2023. Piercebridge.

We’d finish our parmo and gammon tea in the George by 18:30, and Mrs RM wasn’t much interested in walking along a main road to Manfield in search of Bass (Boo ! Mrs RM), so we did the customary gentlefolk amble over the bridge and just admired Piercebridge.

Which is small (pop. 113), but perfectly formed.

Not much street art, but there’s only 113 people here, what do you expect ?

Is this art ?

or the embalmed head of a Roman who asked for a top-up on his pint of mead ?

Oh look, there’s another pub. Well, the Fox Hole, where the word “pub” in “pub and restaurant” stretches the definition of the word to new extremes.

You might (you won’t) recall the Fox Hole, the pub featured in my most-read post.

We’d attempted to eat here earlier, but it was fully booked on a Thursday night.

“Even if we eat quick and are there by 6 ?“. Nope.

And as we entered so I could show Mrs RM what the George’s competition looked like, an anxious man approached, note of panic in his voice.

“Can I, HELP you ?”

“Don’t worry, we just want a quick beer”

“All our tables are booked”. Actually, most of the tables looked empty.

“We’ll sit at the bar”.

At least they’ve swapped the local homebrew for beers you’ve heard of (NBSS 3 and 2.5 respectively, £5.10), but it was not a visit to savour.

We walked back to the George, where complementary biscuits awaited, via the Roman fort.

Neither the bridge, or the latrine, were working.

Really, what did the Romans ever do for us ?