retiredmartin

November 2024. Rye.

Mrs RM met me at Rye Station on the Sunday night, which was nice of her,

though it sadly meant that a) Mrs RM couldn’t have a beer and b) I felt almost obliged to, even though I’d had more than enough.

At 5pm on Sunday Rye has emptied of French language students learning what a pastry stout is, and gentlefolk on day trips from Bexhill,

which means a visit to the Ypres is not only recommended, but mandatory.

Unluckily for me, my visits to Rye always seem to fall early in the week when the pub’s closed, so turning down a pint on a Sunday night with a free lift home is plain daft.

Jeff shouted “Hello Martin!” as soon as I walked through the door, which is a better reception than I get from Mrs RM, who loves the Ypres as much as I do.

Now, if I recall, on my last visit I made a note to “never mix beer and cider“.

“Oops”, as they say in Winchelsea.

I reckon the still cider here is as good as the exemplary cask,

but just to test that hypothesis, I did have a pint (urged on by a sober wife) of that Kent Mosaic, which was as close to a 5 as I’m going to score all year. Suddenly, Jeff switching from the Harvey’s doesn’t seem that bad an idea.

For the beer (and cider and wine), and the cosiness and the lovely staff, this is still one of the Top 10 best pubs in the world.

It was good to see Jeff’s pub doing good business on a Sunday evening, mainly locals I think, and possibly a good thing our caravan is a mile and a half walk away, or I fear for the consequences.

For a moment I thought, if not hoped, Mrs RM was heading for the Standard,

but it turned out to be Marino’s, whose calamari are yet another reason to visit Rye.

But not on bonfire night.