retiredmartin

November 2023. Cambridge.

Dad moved from a noisy A & E bed to a dedicated elderly ward with 11-8 visiting hours which suggested he was in recovery.

After my own recuperative crispy beef and pint of Landlord I decided to make my visit by train the next day, walking the half hour along the guided bus track to Addenbrookes.

Cambridge’s teaching hospital looks like a business park these days, packed with research facilities and university buildings. The new dedicated train station can’t come quick enough (it cost £21.70 to park on site that first night).

By a stroke of luck I made it back to Cambridge station with 6 minutes to spare, just time enough for a half pint in the Old Ticket Office.

The newish station bar has been in and out of the Guide, and cask seems very much secondary to the lager, but I did see someone else have the Oakham.

I went Broadside, an unwise pint consumed in ten three minutes outside, as inside was packed with folk who seemed to think they were in somewhere trendy in Islington.

It wasn’t sparkling, but it was thick and foamy, and (as Blackpool Jane would say) chewy. A palpable 3.

I must have been in a good mood as I added a 7.5% tip to the £5.50 cost of the Broadside on the card reader as the staff were nice. In America only leaving a 7.5% tip would see you beaten up.

As if that wasn’t enough, I then had a mini bottle of Chilean Merlot.

Blimey, I must have been stressed.