February 2025. Waddingham. Lincolnshire.
Bing maps says it’s Gainsborough, but you and I can clearly see it’s Greater (Lesser) Scunthorpe.
Yes, after a week of exciting pubs, I’m succumbing to customer demand to bring you a remote, unpubbed, Lincolnshire village.
Why ?
Well, it’s there, that’s why. And the Marquis of Granby was in the centre of Waddingham (pop. 548) in 2019, when it was closed and “asset-stripped”.
That pic is from 2021, and on my circumnavigation I genuinely didn’t notice it, which is quite some asset stripping.
But there’s still an unidentified building with quaint tower next to one of those repurposed phone boxes;
a good choice of Darren Shaw in this one. If anyone can summarise Darren Shaw in two lines please do.
Elsewhere, the Old Butcher’s Shop awaits conversion to a micro pub,
and the old windmill offers a sight of the Urals from its viewing platform.
We only stopped in Waddingham because the two ducks looked so enticing. They are ducks, aren’t they ?
These are the first snowdrops of Spring. I know my horticulture.
Which brings us to the Church of St Peter and St Mary, the only entertainment left in town;
a solid NCSS 3+, where simplicity is key,
and the highlight is a set of organ keys including the ultra-rare Vox Angelique T.C. 8FT.
I bought a programme and did an on-line donation of a fiver, the price of a pint and a quarter of the cost of York Minster.
It’s the non-league of church ticking, I guess.
I leave you with a quest. Identify the lady top tight to complete the list of attendees and let me have the name.
Unless it’s you. That would be cheating.
retiredmartin 
If you ever have to stop drinking beer (gasp!) you could keep on blogging but do churches instead of pubs. Nice photos, as ever.
Those ducks appear to be members of two new species that have evolved to imitate geese.
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Are you one of them twitchers I read about ?
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Not swans ?
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Spelled Notswan.
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“There`s nothing between here and the Urals
Its very healthy, your breathing the same air as the Tartars ”
The words of Rupert Rigsby showing an attic bedsit to prospective tenant
Rising Damp writer Eric Chapell was from Lincolnshire so perhaps references to nothing between here and the Urals were a common trope in the eastern flatlands.
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And just as true about higher ground in the West Midlands.
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Its always goodness knows what between you and the Urals in a Wetherspoons
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You’re getting mixed up with Urinals, Etu.
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It’s the Comedy Of Errors, or so I’m told, Martin.
In which case life should be an eternal hoot in these parts
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They’re not proper urinals anyway, not like the Twyford Adamant ones I watered this afternoon.
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Where do you get your information from as some of it is not correct at all
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Did I get the ducks wrong again ?
I always get the ducks wrong.
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