February 2024. Harlton. Cambridgeshire.
Dad is just desperate to get out, anywhere; not surprising I can’t spend a day at home really,
Not too far, of course; pills to take, routines to follow, but he loves his food and I knew just the place om Friday.
Shamefully, I hadn’t popped the dozen miles to Harlton for a couple of years.
The Hare and Hounds was actually my Pub of the Year in 2020, but despite that accolade it’s failed to acquire a railway station since then as part of “levelling up”.
Never mind. Dad admired the hare and hounds woven into the thatch and the early signs of Spring,
and we stood at the door at 11:59 hoping for a table at what has always seemed a pub popular with the village which runs it.
A simple, unfussy, place, where people talk to each other. Odd concept.
I say hello to Tom the Pub, legend of The Chase (Mum’s favourite TV programme),
and Bass advocate,
and wonder where the Bass is.
He seems to be hiding it in his personal cellar or something, and brings me a half (all I can have, drat), which at least confirms that Tom hasn’t lost his magic touch.
He’s in personal charge of the fish and chips we both have, and although you may not appreciate it,
Dad is in foodie heaven. When you get to 88 you want your fish to look like a fish.
As this one does. Absolutely perfect.
Four locals I recognised from my last visit took what seemed to be their regular lunch table; actually opening for lunch, rather than at 4pm, does mean you get a certain sort of gentlefolk custome.
“Who’s next off the conveyor belt of life”
“It’ll be me” said one chap’s wife.
“DON’T say that ! I don’t how to load the washing machine !” said the chap.
Such an irreverent attitude to mortality would have been appreciated by Dad, but he only had thoughts for cleaning his plate.
A wonderful pub.
retiredmartin 
Martin, your dad certainly had a look of determination on his face, so much so that, as the final photo demonstrates, he made short work of that meal of fish and chips. That’s an impressive looking piece of battered cod, too – or might it be haddock?
My own father enjoyed his food with equal enthusiasm, and fortunately the care home where he spent his last few years, served up some fine looking food.
Sadly, we were unable to visit him, during the final 10 months of his life, due to COVID restrictions, but I still look back with fondness on those pre-pandemic occasions when, like yourself, I took dad out for a meal.
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Haddock I think, Paul.
Mum and Dad tend to focus on eating rather than talking over meals these days !
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Eating, like drinking, is serious business.
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