April 2025. Burbage.
I suspect that 98% of the UK couldn’t place Burbage on the map, not that folk have maps in 2025. Tucked in between Leicester, Nuneaton and the world famous Watling Street/M69 junction, it’s virtually contiguous with Hinckley, which leaves you none the wiser..
As Official Custodian of the tour, I’d produced a neat little map of pubs,
but arriving over an hour before the Red Lion opens and with Quinno confirming the ex-Spoons nor worth the diversion I offered Stafford Paul a cultural diversion via the wild flowers.
According to my own blog I hadn’t visited Burbage for a decade or more, and with a population of 16,510 souls I reckoned it must be worth a look.
But over the course of the most direct route from Hinckley Station to St Catherine’s it became apparent that Burbage’s charms were subtle,
and largely floral. But the company was high class.
The door to the parish church was locked, but what a door.
Pastel colours, a Horsepool,
some very long Roman numbers.
We rested on a bench, and Paul produced a 1979 (?) pub guide from the golden era of CAMRA when two pumps was plenty.
A few closures since then, but still five pubs and a Cons Club within a five minute radius.
“Morning lads, setting the world to rights ?” asks a passing lady.
“Already done that“, I might have replied.
retiredmartin 