February 2024. Cambridge.
Unwisely, but I’m not sure on whose part, I agreed to meet Will in Cambridge “just for a couple”. How did I/he not learn our lesson from Leeds ?
This is Will’s future exhibit in the Museum of Pubbing.
Ooh, quite a lot there, Will.
We said we’d meet at 5 just off Mill Road at the Geldart, recent Cambridge Pub of the Year. Which might surprise you, as it’s not a pub much mentioned on any classic Cambridge Crawl, just beyond the Kingston/Cambridge Blue run.
Opposite Ainsworth Street play area,
where 20 years ago James and Matthew would do what toddlers do when we took the cut from the Beehive shopping centre to the Blue.
I should have told Will to head for that play area, he’d have enjoyed the slides, as he improbably found himself lost due to pursuing the logic that the Geldart is in Geldart Street.
The same logic that would see the Blue Moon on the moon, I guess.
He turned up minutes after I’d started my pint (what happened to halves ?) of the beer with a tuba for a handpump.
Actually, it was possibly more trombone that tuba, but it was definitely Hanlons, which I bored Will to tears by telling him that this was the beer with which I triumphantly completed Devon on the road to GBG glory.
And it was alright, it was alright, as Kevin Rowland sang in 1985, NBSS 3/3+.
But I was glad I stayed for a second half, a gorgeous Orkney stout pulled from a trombone pump (NBSS 4) to remind how good Cambridge beer is.
The pub itself is quirky as ever, dominated by musical tat and “hot rocks” cuisine and a Gents that may be “problematic” to some of my readers (probably not).
High standards, too; clean glasses and beermat proffered and a soundtrack of Chet Baker at the perfect volume.
The chatty barperson came round to light the candles on our tables with a flourish of “How romantic“, and at that moment, with the flickering light and crackling fire,
it felt every inch the slightly upmarket, unfussy, suburban pub. Perhaps Manchester’s Angel and Sheffield’s Harlequin have a similar feel.
But I may be talking rubbish.
retiredmartin 
I’ve never seen a bar so bonkers, that’s brilliant!
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Instruments over wickets?
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“Love Over Gold”
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Mankind has been cooking for thousands of years, and has sort of figured out what works and what doesn’t. So seeing the words “innovative” and “food” together raises certain questions. I’m not sure that analogies with music, say, would be fitting, whereas ones with handpumps probably would…
Yes, following “logic” can get you into all sorts of trouble. That which says that if you don’t like the in-flight music at 40,000 feet then you jump out of the Emergency Door, is exactly what gave us brexit for instance.
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One of my fave pubs!
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Of course any pub bearing my family name will be perfect.
My collateral ancestor Martin Geldart was Vinerian Professor of Law at Oxford, the philosophically conservative opponent of A V Dicey, his liberal-minded successor-in-office.
I suspect, however, that it is the Cambs branch of the family involved here. Made a load of dosh in the 18th century and even gained a coat of arms, which would look splendid on a beer pull!
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Hey Martin, has your gammy leg sorted itself out yet? Moira wants a new fireplace if you could pop round next Wednesday.
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Anon, I think that you might find that our Martin – by popular demand – has a return booking next Wednesday, for a further talk on his “pubsploits” at The Middle Gornal Ladies’ Group.
However, this man might be able to help https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gavin_Williamson
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I’m afraid Middle Gornal Ladies couldn’t comply with my rider (faggots and chips, salted), so I had to let them down gently.
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A mention of Gornal reminds me that that sort of handpump gimmickry probably started very near there. From 1989 the ‘Mad’ O’Rourke pub chain was known for its pies and one of their beers was Lumphammer with such a handpump. I thought that it might have been a blend of DBA and one of the 1037 OG Allied beers.
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