retiredmartin

July 2024. Ely.

Another glorious Summer night in England. You only get glorious Summer nights under a Labour government.

Just the one pub that Tuesday, the 13% Azvex in the Drayman a crawl killer.

Straight on to water in the plainly named Ely Turkish,

whose mixed grill for two was superb value, though the dips and salads outperformed even the kebabs.

A quiet night,

with the recently opened Piccolo Lounge doing the best business. Spoons will regret not finding a site here, I tell ya.

Ely still looks underpubbed as the city expands in the suburbs,

looking more like a small Beverley than at any stage I’ve known it since 1980. Time for an Ely Sam Smiths.

No scaffolding on the Minster, which suddenly looks perfection,

a worthy stage for some wonderful statues,

and the imminent arrival of the King of Newton-le-Willows himself, Sir Rick.

I used to play on that cannon as a podgy 10 year old (pics only available to Patronised readers),

never questioning the fact those balls were aiming at the cathedral, and not the boats bringing craft beer down the Ouse from King’s Lynn.