retiredmartin

July 2024. Dereham.

I’m not sure Dereham has any essential sights or pubs, but it has essential pub company in Charles and Julia, who was taking a morbid polite interest in our ticking exploits as we finally left the Cock in search of curry.

The lovely chap at the Spoons had suggested the Romany Rye, Cock and George as the 3 best pubs in town, and in beer terms that’s true, but Mrs RM and I have a yearning for the unexpected, and 10 seconds after leaving Pub 2 I asked;

“What’s the King’s Head like, then ?“.

It was a question that Charles and Maria couldn’t answer, which meant we HAD to go in, if only for a half. After all, we’d been in the allegedly scary Cherry Tree and found a Proper (and only slightly scary) Pub before.

The King’s Head is one of three (3) town pubs offering non-budget rooms in a town you’d assume had no visitors at all, and could have been fitted out by the team which did Crossroads (the remake).

Charles, you know, the chap who almost re-started the Civil War by asking for tasters, turned the pump clips round to discover what we might have had. They creaked.

Rarely has anyone been so disappointed by the absence of Castle Rock.

I made an executive decision.

“Three halves of the Blood Orange Thatcher’s, please“. I think they were a bargain.

CAMRA says of Thatcher’s “this is not real cider“. Dereham says “y’what“. No-one cares, CAMRAs. I ticked a pub on Jersey with a half of that very “cider”, y’know.

Thatcher’s seem to sponsor the vast outside area which contains half the youth of Dereham. The other half were in the pool room.

Maria has the choice of the whole wine tree,

and they STILL didn’t have one she liked.

“Pinot ! Oh my GAWD !” the quote of the day. She can come again.

Oh, you want me to score the cider now ? NFakeCiderSS 3.5, I guess.

The King’s Head, as you may have guessed, is the youthful pub, Any guess what BJs stands for, Charles ?

The motto is “Where Good Times And Beer Collide“, sometimes leaving a hole in the wall.

I loved it, I really did. Though like many things, it’s better seen from behind.

And then to curry, and a near calamity at Spice Fusion where at 21:20 the “first chef” had just gone home,

and the “second chef” was hastily summoned to knock up our usual excellent feast. I think the “third chef” was on Curry Night at Wetherspoons.

What dreadful photography, but it’s the only one I took.

The waiter with great aplomb poured the dregs of that first 660ml Bangla into my glass, and brought out a second I’m sure we didn’t want,

but I’m loathe to complain at those prices. Nearly had the children’s ice cream.

We said goodbye to Charles and Maria at the market square, and promised to do better to stay in touch.

5 minutes later, Charles’s text read “That second Bangla really was a mistake“. Just like old times.