retiredmartin

August 2025. Newton. Cambridge.

After an evening with a sleepy Dad in his care home we dropped a friend off near Addenbrookes and kept heading randomly south.

Oh, look, a nice pub.

“This looks like the Queen’s Head“.

Mrs RM, who’d been paying no attention to the route, astonishes me with her powers of perception.

Yes, she did have the prime table, all to herself.

But that was because the hordes, mostly in lycra (pics available to Patronised readers) were all in a garden. Such a well behaved horde, too. “Thank you“. “Thank YOU“. “Thank you for saying thank you !“.

So I had a bit of a queue for Mrs RM’s Broadside from the barrel,

and my Bitter (“Adnam’s ?” asks the lady, as if there’s another one).

Promisingly, it’s loveably Suffolk flat, but doesn’t quite have the bite of (Southw)old. NBSS 3+.

It can’t help that half the trade these days is lager and cider.

Still, good enough, and as you sit there listening to the ticking of the clock the Queen’s Head still feels a different world.

A true GBG perennial, and likely to remain so.