retiredmartin

September 2024. Waterbeach.

Four of my favourite Americans (I understand the term Yankee is considered mildly derogatory despite its inclusion on a 1979 Skids hit) arrived in Waterbeach last week.

On their 2018 trip I’d wrote.

“It’s always great to have the Southworth brothers and their lovely wives over here, even if they did choose to stay in our village and send Mrs RM into a panic in case they visit our house and find a speck of dirt.

They didn’t. They visited my Mum and Dad’s house, which is spotless.“

Obviously we left Waterbeach for Sheffield two years later to avoid a house inspection. Mum had arranged the sun to visit so we could have tea and sausage rolls and cream sponge in the garden.

I’d arranged the actual Sun to be open this time so the Southworths could remedy a big mistake, huge oversight last time and pay homage to my former local.

And so they did, several times during their stay, replacing BRAPA, Mrs RM, Joe Bugner and the Black Country Ale Tairsters as the most famous visitors to Waterbeach’s perennial GBG entry.

Well, it was almost perennial, but edged out in GBG25, possibly due to Russian interference in the elections.

But that Boltmaker was sublime, and a visit to the Sun is as vital as ever.

More importantly, I think they made friends with all the locals, a rum lot,

and their only issue was a distinct lack of indoor dining options.

So, just as Alan Partridge drank coffee from the aerialator,

so Barb, Joan, Dick and Dave sat outside in the smoking shed scooping up Singapore rice and crispy beef from Chung Hwa with bits of cardboard, tin foil, and fingers. You wouldn’t get Donald Trump doing that.

The next night saw a switch to the rather more finger friendly pizza from Pharmacie cafe next door, and a run on the Mighty Oak.

They’ll be welcome back any time, as long as Dick doesn’t wear those shorts in public.