QUEUEING IN TONBRIDGE SPOONS

September 2023. Tonbridge. Three competing priorities at the moment; elderly family, cross-checking the new GBG, and keeping the blog up-to-date. I’m sure there’s other things to do like the garden but they can wait. So excuse the brevity of these posts, though I guess with Angela Rippon on Strictly Antique Bake-off you’ve got better things… Continue reading QUEUEING IN TONBRIDGE SPOONS

“Jug or straight ?”. For once, I make the WRONG choice in Tonbridge.

September 2023. Tonbridge (not Royal). Three (3) posts from the self-proclaimed Garden of England on a Tuesday night when Tonbridge suddenly made sense. Mrs RM and I have felt exhausted on our return from attending to parents, and that’s as much to do with being confined indoors and missing out on our 20,000 steps as… Continue reading “Jug or straight ?”. For once, I make the WRONG choice in Tonbridge.

LAMBERHURST – FOAMING JUGS, EFFUSIVE WELCOME, 60p OF MISUNDERSTANDING

September 2023. Lamberhurst, Tunbridge Wells. Weeks have taken on a fairly consistent shape in recent months. Weekends spent with my parents in Waterbeach attending to shopping, doctors appointments and Chung Hwa collections, followed by trips to Mrs RM’s Mum and Dad in Tunbridge Well to try and get my father-in-law back on his feet. We… Continue reading LAMBERHURST – FOAMING JUGS, EFFUSIVE WELCOME, 60p OF MISUNDERSTANDING

“I’m a back door man. The men don’t know, but the little girls understand.” Alix Page in Hoxton.

September 2023. Hoxton. You left me in the queue to see Alix Page at Colours (aka Lux) in Hoxton, ANOTHER new east London gig venue for me. I’d unwisely joined a queue at 7pm, as the ticket (a tenner) said doors at 7, and I wanted to discover the rich joys of the Colours beer… Continue reading “I’m a back door man. The men don’t know, but the little girls understand.” Alix Page in Hoxton.

COMPLIMENTARY ROASTIES AND YORKIES ON THE BAR AT THE THARP ARMS

September 2023. Chippenham, near Newmarket. Honestly, it is near Newmarket, though the map is indignant that it’s on High Street, Ely, and Chippenham is a last refuge in that weird bit of Cambridgeshire that encompasses the smart horsey villages. I know this because the Waterbeach MP lives there, and you have to live in the… Continue reading COMPLIMENTARY ROASTIES AND YORKIES ON THE BAR AT THE THARP ARMS