retiredmartin

June 2024. Dorking.

We’d spent the night in a public car park in Dorking with three (3) alpacas and a sheep, so that in the morning (after a large “regular” Americano at a rare decent Costa) we could nip down the A25 past the wealth management offices above Horsham to give our campervan (still not named) a “habitation check”. I could do with a habitation check, I reckon.

Sussex Campervans converts vans into campers by adding gas rings and sinks, so it’s important they don’t blow up while you’re parked up outside a pub in Accrington.

While the van got checked out we popped for breakfast at the Torque Motor Cafe, an outside bet for the GBG since it’s added crafty keg beers to its coffee and cobs offer and I reckon CAMRA can’t resist the “fizz” forever.

A driving simulator upstairs, racing track on the ceiling, a joy for petrol heads,

but for car philistines like me it’s the breakfast bap that makes this essential if you should ever visit the Graylands Estate in Horsham.

3 hours later we were heading home via Leigh, one of the Surrey Hills honeypots between Reigate and Dorking, a place we’d only visited a year ago to tick the Seven Stars. What did I write about that;

“Your identikit ancient gastro, with NUMBERED parking spaces. As we attempt to approach the bar we’re asked about reservations (no), will we be eating (no), would we sit down please (ok).”

The Plough is a rather less fussy affair, accepting that some folk like fussy.

It must be a Proper Pub; they’re playing Simply Red.

And there’s a dartboard.

And a photo of the Leigh team that shocked the footballing world in 1952 by taking Great Bookham to a replay (lost 0-5) in the Surrey Invitational Cup.

We’re allowed to approach the bar, dither only a second before choosing the local Pilgrim and fish finger sandwiches, and sit where we like.

Mrs RM gets the local Pilgrim, almost cheap for Surrey at £4.50, a cool and foamy 3+ I reckon,

while I get a pint of lime and soda that necessitates 2 stops on the M1 on the way north.

Incredibly unfussy place, and food, though we enjoy the spectacle of gentlefolk acting like they’ve never been in a pub before. “We haven’t booked”. “Can we sit down ?”. “I have no idea what we want”.

I do hope they weren’t the Larry Grayson Appreciation Society.