retiredmartin

November 2023. Rothley. Leicestershire.

The word “Coalville” is clickbait. Sorry. You were expecting to see an unwoke boozer craft beer bar on the A511; instead you get a dining pub just off the A46.

Technically, Rothley is not far east of Coalville, but it might as well be in a different continent. I’ve grown to appreciate the charms of the Charnwood towns, a land of hunting horns, pubs once run by retired footballers called Birchenall, and steam trains.

But it’s still a mild disappointment to have to return to Rothley so soon after a Christmas visit. How did I miss the pre-emptive potential of the Blue Bell ?

I mean, an old watering can in the garden is surely a signal to tickers of a future GBG place ?

It’s a charming place, all pullovers and pulled pork,

and Plum Porter to keep the alliteration going.

I can’t say the conversation was enthralling, but I bet the weirdness goes up a notch when Simon and Colin get here on a cold February evening in 2026.

And if the beer quality is as good as this, a cool, fruity 3.5,

then it might just hang on till then.

That’s the best scummy head I’ve seen in 2023.

And the lacings never lie*…

Just DON’T press that button.

*Oh, apparently they do, Will tells me.