retiredmartin

September 2026. Saxilby. Lincolnshire

Unsurprisingly, you might think, my only recollection of Saxilby was of the Mandarin Chinese takeaway I’d popped in after ticking the Anglers years ago. Long after I forget my name and whether I like Autovac beer I’ll be able to tell you what score I gave the crispy beef in the Mandarin.

Disappointingly, the highly regarded and snappily named Saxilby Fish & Chips had closed at 1:45, just as I arrived in town, which made the Anglers’ offer to eat their chips in the pub a bit moot. Why do chippies close so early ? And can something be a “bit” moot.

I’m rambling, as the village of 4,428 souls isn’t quite as exciting as ChatGPT would persuade you,

exhibit No. 1 being the medieval timber-framed building which should be the centrepiece of the High Street,

but with an hour to kill I captured every detail.

(Another) sunny day helps St Botolph look at its best. Unusual headstone here;

As you’d expect from a place once visited by a thousand anglers in a weekend, the Foss Dyke is the dominant feature,

and the conservation area that includes of Beer Guide newbie is a gem.

The Sun itself is delightfully beige,

bar a horse mounting block reminiscent of Piercebridge.

I like pubs like this which appeal to the Dad picking up the schoolchildren as well as the Old Boy at the bar,

and while some will think the beer range a bit beige as well,

it’s a GOOD (chewy !) pint of Bateman’s Gold.

Most of the locals are outside in the sun (again), popping in to ask for a top-up.

“Carling, Darling”. They can have that slogan for free.

Yes, a jolly soundtrack including The Four Tops, Love Unlimited and Michael Boone, who I would never have been able to identify in a pop quiz.

At the station, I examine my 90p bargains from Briony Arber the Butcher.