retiredmartin

May (yes !!!) 2024. Worfield. Bridgnorth.

Time to start touring outside of that narrow strip from England from Yorkshire down through the Midlands to Cambridge, I think.

Not only is the area colloquially known as The Marches beautiful, it also houses a bounty of new Beer Guide pubs, and a display of rhododendrons at Hergest Ridge that would give Mrs RM a great Instagram post if it even stopped raining.

SPOILER : It didn’t stop raining.

A night in Ludlow, where the hotel prices told us the campervan was doing the work,

and I’d just have to find an overnight parking place next to a toilet bush.

A fairly direct dual carriageway from Sheff to Shropshire, though the M1 is a horror show and I decide to use some of our accommodation savings by using the M6 toll to reach the M54 and the descent towards Worfield.

It’s not until the return trip I realise that 7 mile stretch cost me (deep breath) £8.90. That’s 3 pints in my world !

But that £8.90 begins to seem a price worth paying as we park up at the Dog & Davenport,

and beat a gaggle (?) of ramblers to the best table and get our orders in.

Behind me, a vertical queue stretches back outside the door, up and out towards Albrighton.

Which is coincidental, as the group appears to be meeting to discuss the impending “urbanisation of Albrighton”, a village housing David Austin Roses and RAF Cosford and a former GBG regular.

Mrs RM and I enjoy the impassioned speeches of the NIMBY Chair as she talks of protest letters and Just Giving and an update to the Wikipedia page I reproduce here;

“March 2024 – The village is under threat of being increased in area by around 65% by developers Boningale homes, owned by the landowners who own the greenbelt fields south of the village, outside of the Local Plan. They propose adding more than 800 houses, without being able to guarantee any additional amenities. The roads are narrow and health services are stretched already. Residents are strongly opposed to this as is MP Mark Pritchard (Con) because it will make an attractive and much appreciated village into a town, by removing protected green spaces.“

Mrs RM’s enjoyment was aided by her NBSS 3 pint of Ludlow Gold (in Woods glass, wha’ppen to Woods ?); the DES had lime and soda (in a Stella vessel, wha’ppen to Stella ?).

The soundtrack, on the tinniest Hi-Fi of the year, somehow went from “Living Next Door To Alice” to “Layla“.

Yep, the long version.

The wait for our lunch seemed longer than expected, but at least we had WiFi. A charming but rather too attentive landlady came over to tell us the chef had started cooking for the Ramblers before us despite us getting in our (simple) orders first and I suddenly resented the M6 toll charge again.

I went for a wander; “homely” and “pleasant“,

a riot of brass, well-worn carpets, the sort of pub that dominated the Good PUB Guide 30 years ago.

And I’m sure the Dog (& Davenport) was a GPG regular without ever gracing the GBG, the sort of place without locals at the bar,

but plenty of regulars in the lounge.

“Hello, Hel-lo, HELLO…have you got any ENGLISH mustard” cries Terry (I guess) as I return to the table as our lunch arrives.

It’s solid, trencherman fayre, a bit dry but decent value.

At the bar, the gentlefolk were queueing to individually pay for their haddock and a half, ordered by name.

“What name ?” the Landlord asks me. “I don’t have a name“, I say, alarmed and confused like I’m in a Ting Ting song* or something.

“Do you prefer cash or card ?” I ask.

“We prefer cash” says the lady. It was the highlight of the day.

Right, that’s your dozen photos from the Dog; a bit of old timber coming up next.

*Cultural reference, you wouldn’t get it.