April 2024. Fourwentways. Cambridge.
My father-in-law has had a rough time of it these last few years, so we’ve been trying to cheer him up with pub trips out from Tunbridge Wells, Chinese takeaways, and encouragement at his performance in Handel’s Messiah last week.
Getting his two grandson’s down to Kent and back again via Waterbeach in a weekend was a logistical challenge that needed a stopover in Cambridge’s most bijou hotel.
We couldn’t stretch to that, so it was Friday and Saturday in Fourwentways Travelodge in that nomansland between Cambridge, Newmarket and the posh but of Essex where BRAPA used to live.
Ooh ! Look at you, showing off your 4,000 year old Bronze Age Barrow Cemetery,
not that you’d notice anything unusual about the site.
There’s bigger undulations in the approach to the car park than in that barrow, caused by the tears of truckers distraught at the continued closure of Burger King and Greggs.
And that’s not even the worst of the potholes round here folks.
That’s the downside. This is a clean Travelodge with lovely staff who managed to get the lads a twin room rather than the threatened double at 10:30pm.
But could they get a late pint with 15 minutes till last orders.
Nope.
Three pubs within a mile, three of the most food focused in all South Cambs; you’re not getting a midnight pint there, Matt.
But the debris in the ancient field behind the car park tells a tale,
of late night cider from the Shell garage.
Mrs RM receives a text;
“Want a beer or summat”.
“YES !!!!” replies Mrs RM, instantly.
Well, if our lads DID* make it to the artisanal beer shelves outside,
WE certainly never saw the benefit of their 11pm raid.
retiredmartin 