retiredmartin

September 2024. Peakirk. Peterborough.

Only three (3) newbies in my old home counties for GBG25, par for the course of late. One’s a brewery tap, the other two are both “improved” old style village pubs.

Thrillingly, my final tick is in Peakirk, about which I know nothing, despite (or because of) having a cousin* here in the odd bit of Fen edge between Peterbough and the Deepings.

Head a few miles west and you’re in the Rutland-esque GBG perennials of Maxey and Helpston, but Peakirk (pop. 321), a Fenland pronunciation of “peacock” feels very South Lincs. As us tickers know, that’s a huge difference.

A haven for twitchers, fans of “busy” village maps,

“help yourself” libraries with a penchant for early Bellamy,

and admirers of St Pega, after whom the village church is (uniquely) named.

You don’t get this level of historical detail on BRAPA, but I predict he will love Guide debutant the Ruddy Duck,

a rare example of a pub with clear opening hours.

It’s a neat allrounder,

a riot of irreverence as 5pm brings the end of Sunday diners, and a takeover by the professional drinkers, most on the Fosters though my (rarely seen) Summer Lightning was a cool, chewy NBSS 4.

The landlord is a gem, friendly and funny.

“No-one knows what they’re doing here ! They’re all on day release”.

If that sounds a bit too Timmy Mallet I’ve done it a disservice, it was a jolly place, and they thanked me on the way out.

And if the toilet art isn’t enough, wait till you see the rare honey bee hand wash…

The bells of St Pega struck 5:54, and carried on ringing as I headed north, not stopping to pink in the map till Colsterworth.

*I think they’re cousins. I’m no good at family trees While my father-in-law has traced my lineage back to the amoebas from Holland; personally I’d be hard pushed to draw lines in either direction from myself.