April 2026. Easington. North Yorkshire.
Mrs RM declined my offer of a night in a a campervan in a Cleveland car park, her loss.
Two hours later I’m at the coast, “I can see the seaside !“, and planning blog titles for the Tiger in tiny Easington (pop. 400).
I’m expecting it to be full of folk on day trips from Whitby and the smoglands, all “reservation for Tracey, four, but Dave’s not arrived yet, do you have a children’s menu ?“.
But the three Old Boys (no doubt younger than me) are all drinking the cask, and there’s not a menu in sight.
Oooh, Bass. Not quite the same without the Bass glass, it’s good, but is it very good ?
These are the issues that the CAMRA top brass are wrestling with on Discourse in an effort to make the organisation relevant to “young people”, who really couldn’t care less. And I don’t mean that in a negative way. My two lads drink cask because it’s often very good, and cooler than they were told. CAMRA should take credit for those achievements.
Oddly, the kidz like pubs like the Tiger, too, pubs that play Billy Jean and Cutting Crew and Survivor.
Yes, the Tiger plays “Eye of the Tiger” (but not Tiger Feet). This is surely the best version;
Old Boys don’t seem to mind what music is played, they’re just chatting village matter with their mates, and have no view on whether “Ordinary World” is Duran Duran’s masterpiece.
The Sky Sports is playing at irritatingly low volume, but otherwise I can’t faulty this cheery place.
The food trade does arrive belatedly, just as I head to the loo. It looks like the toilet door designer had a go at representing a woman, thought better of it, and left the original up.
A metaphor for life, perhaps.
retiredmartin 