July 2026. Sawley. Derbyshire.
The pint of Abbot in Pub 5 was a mistake. I sensed a dash to the station and a return to the warm embrace of the Sang Lung was called for.
But our last pub was just across from the trains, and I ought to save my casketeers a table in a place notably short on seating.
I’d been in Sawley Junction a couple of times, this was the view on my 2023 visit;
YOU said p***y m***o, not me !
Most of the space is taken up by steam train stuff,
and I doubt Old Mudgie would have appreciated the toilet arrangements.
But it’s a cheery place, and let’s focus on beer, just for a change.
I mean, I wasn’t going to be dawdling for long with a train to catch, and that final pint of silky smooth Bass slipped down (VERY GOOD/EXCELLENT).
I’d found lots of random tat, but lost my glasses. Both pairs.
It turned out I was wearing one pair, and the other appeared on one of the Junction’s 227 different ledges, just before I retraced my steps back to the Trent.
Anyway, great day, thanks again Shawn for organising such a top crawl. I mean, survey.
retiredmartin 
I didn’t see the notice on the door but observed that the toilet door was locked, so waited for it to open. When the person emerged she told me it was disgusting that I had been stood outside the door while she was inside. She said the word several times, though I had heard her perfectly well the first time.
Seeing your photo, I can’t understand how I missed it, but I did.
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And you weren’t even in Tunbridge Wells, Will.
Tsk.
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