retiredmartin

September 2024. Bury St. Edmunds.

Another night in Waterbeach, another lone new GBG tick. Yesterday I took a lovely fellow ticker to nine (9) South Yorkshire pubs; I think he was hoping for double that.

But Chris Tavaré didn’t become our greatest cricketer by dealing in fours and sixes, oh, no. And a snatched Constitutional Club in Bury St Edmunds is the ticking equivalent of a Tavaré single down to fine leg. Or something.

This was a glorious Suffolk Saturday, and a chance for Mrs RM to mildly annoy me by stopping every 25 yards to take pics of Bury’s wonderful Abbey grounds.

I’ve been visiting the town virtually annually for nigh on 40 years and I reckon it’s the best it looks since the Great Riot of 1327, a year otherwise best known for the arrival of King Edward II in his holiday accommodation at Berkeley Castle (good GBG pubs nearby).

I digress.

Bury Saints, as the kidz call it to distinguish it from its northern namesake, was heaving last Saturday, as busy as I’ve known a UK town since Covid.

Partly this is due to rapid population growth, more than 40% since my first visits, and in part because of better parking than Cambridge. Unlike, say, Brechin, the council seem to have gone out of their way to make the town more attractive, designating spaces for overnighting campervans.

Well pedestrianised, too, drawing in gentlefolk to the cafes near the Abbey and a neat little of collection of pubs.

We’re only interested in the Constitution Club today, though. “Is that really a Conservative Club you’re taking me in when there’s that tiny pub up the road ?“. Well, sort of.

The lady with a giant camera hidden behind that car is about to ask Mrs RM if she’s there for the wedding.

Now, that’s a question to strike fear into the heart of a ticker, wondering if he’s about to be denied entry because he’s not the bride. I’m sure Duncan successfully claimed to be the mother of the bride in Carmarthen once.

But the wedding reception is on the right, we can hear the singer’s estimable version of “You to me are everything” competing with Harry Styles playing in the left hand bar reserved for members.

In the style(s) of BRAPA I say “We’re CAMRAs can we have a drinky pleeze” but they’re not that interested in anything beyond selling us their vaguely music themed beers from Shortts of Eye, which sounds like a medical complaint.

But these were wonderful beers, rich and cool and with proper heads (NBSS 4).

Almost as good as the feast from Chung Hwa we delivered to Mum an hour later.