May 2024. Great Alne. Alcester.
Yes, Warwickshire has fallen. Not a great personal achievement, with a mere three (3) GBG newbies, one up north where the four counties meet in Austrey and two edging away from Shakespeare-land in the south.
A bit disappointing if I’m honest; nothing new in Nuneaton or Rugby or those weird small towns below Coventry you forget exist.
The journey takes you past Tanworth-in-Arden, home of this cheery fella;
Having reflected on the price of second-hand LPs earlier I should say I’d find you a tenner down the back of Mrs RM’s sofa for an original copy of any of Nick Drake’s masterpieces; the ’80s reissue box is rare enough.
The Forest of Arden is as beautiful as “Bryter Layter” on a good stereo; Henley-in-Arden looked serene, and I realised I’d never actually been to Great Alne before.
It’s genuinely thrilling at 59 to realise there’s still bits of the UK to explore, even if the residents bhind twitching curtains give the impression they’re not welcoming your unscheduled visit.
St. Mary Magdalene (NCSS 3) was welcoming enough to be open without anyone on duty,
a pleasingly simple house of worship compared to the public house to follow,
with a teddy bear on the front row (again !), and although I’m no expert the windows and paintings are fairly modern as well.
But the Southworths are your experts on English churches.
More interesting than the Mother Huff Cap,
which has had the sort of gastro refurb that Robinson’s aims for in its Cheshire estate.
Only you can judge whether they’ve been successful. It’s vast, and rambling, and a riot of corners and colours.
It’s not a pub aimed at me, of course, rather the Cotswold set heading here for lunch after a morning at Coughton Court or Shakespeare’s house.
They’ve had some distinguished guests here before;
you might spot Duncan in the top right.
I arrive at 2:45, so I’ve missed any food trade and there’s just two tradesmen at the bar and a chap working on a laptop in the corner (who turns out to be the Guvnor). At least the tradesmen ensure the pub stays open all day, every day, and for that I am truly thankful.
But tradesmen rarely provide any cask trade, and sure enough it’s Wye Valley or lager.
However, one beer is plenty, often more than enough, and the HPA is cool, and sherberty (NBSS 3.5), just like the single pump in that posh gastro where I finished Glamorgan ticking in that glorious Summer of ’22.
The beer was good, the soul soundtrack, from McFadden and Whitehead (12″ version !) to Blue Magic was better,
and the cheeky art in the Gents was exactly what you expect.
Which pretty much sums up Warwickshire. Or so I thought, arriving in the county town (or is that Atherstone ?).
retiredmartin 
“nothing new in Nuneaton or Rugby”, nor Tamworth. Atherstone’s where it’s all happening on the Trent Valley Line – not only Twin Coast in the Red Lion but also a Heritage Interior listing for the Old Swan since my visit last month.
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Atherstone high on my list for a proper day out, if such a thing still exists.
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A PDO should still be possible but the BPF has gone very quiet lately.
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I’m almost scared to be the next person to post, Paul. If you don’t post regularly on Discourse you get introduced as “Let’s welcome xx back to Discourse, it’s been more than 3 months since his last post” and that would be a disaster.
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That’s Discourse, not the BPF.
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Sorry, Paul, I meant was wondering if the next person to post on the Beer and Pubs Forum would get a Discourse like automated message “Welcome back, where have you been ?”.
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I’m sure Peter or Nigel wouldn’t do that.
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We merely repeat Vigar and Knott LLC’s opinions.
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They sound like Wiltshire solicitors.
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This post has it all.
Edvard Munch – if you ask me – inspired church paintings, and a gastro refit without laminate flooring.
Top marks.
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I’m wondering if you have considered ticking the places in “the Z to Z of Great Britain” by Dixe Wills.
In fact, I’m sure you could produce a better version than the original.
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The Z to A would be more challenging.
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Although Orwell, Dickens, Patrick Hamilton and Graham Greene (of brewing stock) are probably the best writers on the subject, George Eliot has quite a lot to say about beer and pubs in her novels, and would no doubt be pleased that the Wetherspoons in her home town of Nuneaton is now named after her. Pubs in a couple of her books, Middlemarch and Felix Holt, become the centre of skulduggery in election campaigns (obviously something that couldn’t happen now…).
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“and would no doubt be pleased that the Wetherspoons in her home town of Nuneaton is now named after her”. I’m not sure that she could have imagined a Wetherspoons.
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It was either her or “The Larry Grayson”, I guess.
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…or The Mary Whitehouse.
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Or the Rupert Brooke ?
No, that’s the next stop down the Trent Valley Line.
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No, because there is no skulduggery in politics, Matthew.
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Nuneaton’s got a George Elliot Wetherspoons, a George Elliot hospital and a George Elliot secondary school. I wouldn’t want to go to any of them which is why I get of the train six minutes earlier for Atherstone.
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This is the problem that I have with Zen, Paul.
Just imagine going through secondary school 324,281 times again?
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