January 2026. Radcliffe on Trent.
Pub 3 of 4 on our expertly curated survey of public houses in the ancient Notts village of Radcliffe, whose most attractive feature was some doggy knitwear on the way to the Chestnut.
I’d struggle to find a lot to write about the village in 2019, but at least then I could take in Radcliffe Olympic’s muscular game before my micro tick, one of four GBG entries over the year.
Now all I can bring you is St Mary’s Church,
a street bench with a friendly sign,
and a genuine contender for a future Beer Guide entry.
It says a lot that I’d actually been in the (Horse) Chestnut years back but long forgotten it, Radcliffe-o-T’s pubs are joyously average, and I mean that sincerely (folks).
The young barman was cheery and polite,
the rarely spotted Batemans XB a malty, chewy joy (NBSS 4, Quinno score probably 1.5), and the opened up interior made more comfortable as one of our seven decided to be Billy No Mates and eat lunch alone.
I’m always a bit conscious of scoffing a large plate of grub in front of non-diners, and besides, someone would have nicked those chips. I’d rather they stole the fish, was a minute or so overcooked, but I’m not one for complaining.
Your soundtrack is defiantly Year 2000; Gabriells’s “Rise”, Travis and Coldplay, but if you can overlook those crimes and order better off the menu (Paul had the hotpot), you’d enjoy lunch here.
retiredmartin 