December 2025. Bexhill-on-Sea.
There’s no point sitting in a caravan in the rain in Rye, waiting for the next elderly parent crisis to hit, when you could be on a train to a town with pubs.
Mrs RM hadn’t been to Bexhill in over 40 years, so her memories were of childhood trips to the pebbly beach, rather than micropubs and Eddie Izzard’s model railway.
She didn’t believe that Eddie Izzard’s model railway is the star attraction in the town museum, but we were waylaid long before we made it there.
Bexhill, which I inexplicably confuse with Bexley, is a delight for fans of modernist architecture,
which I sense one of us isn’t.
Like Folkestone the day before, rather quiet.
But that’s ok, peaceful is fine,
and I’m sure the Albatross (RAFA), a former National Club of the Year, will be as packed as I remember.
But it’s not. One Old Boy, two Ladies in Charge, and a young barman in charge of signing us in as guests on the table next to the Heritage listed index cards.
Simon often writes of the mild peril of being refused entry to a GBG listed Club.
“We TOLD those CAMRAs we didn’t want your kind in here” as I recall (Penistone ?).
Here, the welcome is warm, but the sign-in rigorously enforced.
“Pound each in the tin, write your names and card numbers in the book please“.
I write 134931/32 next to Mic. Mouse and Min. Mouse, our lifetime numbers being sequential.
“Can you write both numbers please ?”. So I scrub out the first attempt and try again.
The signing-in takes longer than an average pub ticker spends drinking his pint half.
I’m not complaining at all, it’s just a quirk of clubs, and the beer is so cheap (under £4) I’d be churlish to moan.
It’s also gorgeous cask, Romney Best and Titsey Stout both a cool, rich 4 on a quiet day.
With bench seating, scampi fries the gentle drama of an Iceland delivery,
and the fascination of the rise and fall of the Annual Wings Appeal total over the decades, it was a calming half hour.
retiredmartin 
Plenty of chapels are now pubs, so why not mosques indeed?
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Seeing a mosque turned into a RAFA club would excite o certain sort that I don’t think I could enjoy the prospect!
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Ive never been inside. I normally stop at the Sportsman if I happen to be in Bexhill (not often…).
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I’d be tempted to ask for “two choc ices, please”.
To blank looks all round.
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I feel like I’m missing a joke here, Bobby. Did it use to be an ice cream kiosk ?
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Tsk. Silly me. At least it rhymes.
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The Brickmaker’s is your best bet in Bexhill.
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“There’s no point sitting in a caravan in the rain in Rye, waiting for the next elderly parent crisis to hit, when you could be on a train to a town with pubs.”
Yup. Keep busy, keep focused, but keep relaxed as well.
“She didn’t believe that Eddie Izzard’s model railway is the star attraction in the town museum”
Neither did I. Wiki had nought. But Googling brought up the Bexhill museum. Whoda thunk it?
Mind you, Eddie/Suzy probably gave it up when it became too… phallic?
(I’ll get my coat)
“Bexhill, which I inexplicably confuse with Bexley,”
I do that with Kamloops and Kelowna over here. They’re roughly 100 miles apart but I keep having to remember which one is further west.
“which I sense one of us isn’t.”
(shyly raises his hand)
“But that’s ok, peaceful is fine,”
(looks up)
Yup! Especially if they suddenly have a breakout from the Angry Whelk.
“and I’m sure the Albatross (RAFA)”
Ok, this AI assistant thingy is a bit wonky. I searched RAFA and the entire first page was some bloke who’s the 1st Marquess of Llevant de Mallorca, who was also a professional tennis player!
“a former National Club of the Year, will be as packed as I remember.”
(looks down)
Has the building been turned into a tribute to Elon Mosque?
“and a young barman in charge of signing us in as guests on the table next to the Heritage listed index cards.”
Keeping it old school I see.
“I write 134931/32 next to Mic. Mouse and Min. Mouse, our lifetime numbers being sequential.”
(slow golf clap)
Well done sir!
“So I scrub out the first attempt and try again.”
(looks down)
I must say, I get a certain frisson of delight in seeing THAT star on the Harvey’s glass in this setting.
“I’d be churlish to moan.”
Riiiiiiight.
“and the fascination of the rise and fall of the Annual Wings Appeal total over the decades, it was a calming half hour.”
Nice.
But, (looks up), the old ways are certainly on the decline.
Cheers
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