January 2024. Braunston. Daventry.
Mrs RM is a source of endless delight. Her excitement at finally releasing to the world her excellent travel blog (here), after a gestation priod longer than the third Blue Nile album, is a joy to behold. I shall overlook her gaining more blog views in one day than I managed in my first 3 months.
On Friday night, as I returned from my Mancunian cut, we were reflecting on the death of David Soul (I loved Silver Lady) and iconic TV themes from the ’70s.
“Oooh, that one from “Chips”, loved that” says Mrs RM.
“Chips ? CHiPs ?“
Reader, she meant Mash.
We headed down south to see the parents on Saturday, breaking the trip with a stop at one of the Travelodge New Year bargains.
One stop on the way, to complete Northamptonshire.
A rare venture into the bit of west Northants dominated by canals, and closed railways, and whatever happens in Daventry.
Nice bit of OS extract; loads happening here.
The Admiral Nelson is at the bottom of dead end Dark Lane, with views over the Grand Union,
and a complex series of footpaths we were never going to take in the drizzle.
Dogs welcome, famous canines littered the walls.
I had to check whether I counted as the “Riff Raff” they weren’t admitting.
“Be sure to book” said all the reviews, but on Saturday lunchtime we seemed to be the only folk wanting their acclaimed burgers, though there were a fair few drinkers at the bar.
While I picked a table Mrs RM had taken matters into her own hands at the bar, confidently ordering the strongest Everards seasonal.
Mrs RM used to be so normal before that obsession with Untappd, and now she headed straight to the phone to check-in her 6% Festive Ale (NBSS 3, I reckoned).
“What have YOU scored it ?” I asked.
A 4 !!! No way. Gentlemen, never criticise your wife’s Untappd scores.
But at least she’d admitted to the world she was a rubbish driver. Win.
I felt a bit guilty at recommending she had the fish finger sandwich,
not a patch on a startlingly good burger and proper chips, served by pleasant staff who said “absolutely” a lot when we asked for condiments.
Exactly the soundtrack you expected.
Slightly upmarket for Northants, but worth the price, particularly when you can eavesdrop on telephone conversations with nervous customers;
“Are you SURE you’re going to be in a position to get EVERYONE’S menu choice ?”.
Confession : I took four (4) sweets from the hippo’s mouth.
retiredmartin 
Can’t say I approve of all these people (mostly on the telly) using “absolutely” instead of “yes”
LikeLike
Absolutely agree.
Also “That’ll be two pounds sixty, altogether” when just buying a pint.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Most annoyingly I often get “Anything else ?” when just buying a pint, as if I wouldn’t have the sense to say “And a bag of scratchings please” if I was a bit peckish.
LikeLike
Probably because they’re expecting you to add “and a pint of Guinness please” at the last second.
LikeLike
“Oh, sorry. Yes, your new dress is fabulous“
LikeLike
Oh, I don’t know. It at least shows that the speaker can be bothered to move their jaw a bit when replying.
LikeLiked by 2 people
or “literally” or “myself” instead of the much simpler and correct “me”.
LikeLike
The fifth sweet is when the hippo bites.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Look for folk with four fingers.
LikeLike
Sid Tomlinson who had Stafford’s Pheasant from 1939 to 1980 had shortened fingers, I think from frostbite with also having been a milkman back when we had proper winters.
LikeLike
It’s clear, that readers her would be interested to know, that the DJ at the Dickens Inn in Rotherham in the late 1970s – for it was also a live music venue – was missing the index finger on both hands.
He lost the first on putting it through an inspection hole in a steel mill machine – despite a notice saying “Do not put ANYTHING through this hole” – and the second on demonstrating to the Safety Officer what he had previously done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reg,
That’s probably why we’re born with eight fingers.
Dickens, and the old joke, reminds me we don’t have spares of everything !
LikeLike