retiredmartin

September 2024. Grantham.

Is “Sunday last” yesterday or the one a week ago ? Is “Sunday last” the same as “last Sunday” ?

These are the questions that keep me awake at night. Anyway, 8 days ago Mrs RM was having her second successive night in a Grantham car park, unwilling to join me on further pub explorations. She had her Insta-friendly material in the bag already.

It’s my duty to my faithful subscribers to revisit the classics, and while I #RespectTheEmbargo it’s a good bet the Lord Harrowby will continue as Grantham’s perennial, particularly with the Carling sign drawing in the cask crew.

A back street boozer in the smarter part of town, I couldn’t recall it at all from a tick and 2 stars fifteen years ago,

but, and I’m delighted to say this is often the case, it was almost certainly better than I (didn’t) remember.

Rather more beery than I’d have guessed,

and I pick the cask hazy one from Forest Road to annoy Paul (either of them).

but it’s the welcome that’s the winner in a modernised but comfortable corner local with a healthy collection of crime novels and unhealthy Iron Maiden (that’s SO GBG24) soundtrack.

A cheery landlord laughs when I ask about Bass (it’s been on once, once ! this year) and thanks me for finishing off the Tiny Rebel which slightly edges the Work, which is how it should be.

The conversation from a mixed Sunday night crowd revolves around bolt wires (?) and an attempt to identify this classic with a malfunctioning Shazam;

The couple next to me reckon it’s Ramstein, I assure them it’s not as I’m old enough to have lived through the UK’s obsession with weird euro-pop and the Harrowby passes the “Is this a pub where a stranger could start up a conversation with folk on the next table ?” test.

And then the jukebox goes a bit weird,

When you've finished the GBG you can go to Proper Pubs like the Lord Harrowby in Grantham where they play Proper Music. pic.twitter.com/4sn4JsPo1u

— retiredmartin (@NHS_Martin) September 15, 2024

but this is what makes me drink up;

“When Tiny Tim comes on it’s a signal to go” I say, a proper sign-off. “Come again” says the Landlord, a gent.

Actually, I DO then revisit a pub in Grantham on my attempt to find the Maggie statue,

accidentally popping in a much becalmed Spoon where my pint (Plum Porter, the regulation NBSS 3.5) is delivered 32 minutes quicker than the night before,

where a chap barely touching his San Miguel while I drink my Plum Porter relives the chaotic glories of the night before (“They needed more staff on” he sagely tells me) and offers his opinions on every pub in town.

One of which will be debuting in the new GBG on Thursday. #RespectTheEMBARGO