retiredmartin

March 2026. Waterbeach.

Waterbach Gault looked rather lovely last Tuesday.

Less so, the contents of the skip we’d hired to clear muck from garage and potting shed. The house sale rumbles into its 15th month, quite the most stressful 15 months of my life.

It’s inevitable, really, that everyone walking past a skip will cast an accusatory look that says “Surely you’re not throwing that rusting seed sorter away, that’s worth 50p“.

I saved the Earl Kitchener tea spoon; might be worth 50p.

After two days of skip filling, trips to the recycling centre in Milton, and putting off nosey Fen folk with a forced smile, Mrs RM and I were fed up, filthy, and knackered.

To make matters worse, Chung Hwa is closed on Tuesday, but at least new landlord Gary has The Sun open longer hours now.

My old local, apparently declared “The Best Pub In The World” in 2022 by someone, was never going to emerge unchanged following the departure of Helen, who we miss a lot.

But it seems to be ticking over nicely, and will be running the famous beer festival next month.

I don’t know if she saw my Awards post, or just likes chatting all things Rossendale Valley, but my 2025 Pubman of the Year Bev seems thrilled to see us and talk beer and stuff.

She lifts my spirits, though I’m slightly horrified when she brings over samples of Magic Rock Ringmaster for the ale drinkers to try.

“A taster ! A pint’s a taster !” etc. etc.

But I do as I’m instructed, following up the Boltmaker (NBSS 4) with a Ringmaster that’s almost as good, even if it’s now brewed by Black Sheep or Purity rather than in Huddersfield. I don’t care, provenance and history are irrelevant compared to quality.

Perhaps it was the chat about the new cycleway through Landbeach, or the soundtrack (“Town Called Malice“), or exhaustion, but the third pint in an hour is, unwisely, Stan’s Big Apple cider.

Is it real cider ? What does CAMRA say ? Do I give a ****.

Suddenly the bar starts seeing a string of lanyard-wearing arrivals, laden with boxes and suitcases.

Is it live music ? In the courtyard, a chap with handlebar moustache asked me where “the meeting” is. “What meeting ?“. “The aviation meeting“. I should have gatecrashed it.