November 2025. Thurnham. Maidstone. Into posh Kent and the North Downs we go, for a night in Rye before opera with the in-laws. There may be something in that last sentence to make you a tad jealous. I’m betting it’s not opera. A smattering of new Guide entries for Kent in GBG26, but our first… Continue reading LURCHERS AND CHESTERFIELDS. THE BLACK HORSE, THURNHAM
Tag: Black Horse
KEG PEDI, PROPER PUB
April 2025. Hinckley. Back, again, through Hinckley’s pedestrianised centre to my final pub before the train home, stopping only to note the dramatic relocation of Mr Tax. Every trip to a UK town gives you a new perspective on the architecture, but to really understand a place you have to visit a tax advisor there,… Continue reading KEG PEDI, PROPER PUB
“Another pie, then ?”
January 2024. Preston. Sorry for a two part post about one pub, my first such extravagance since a similarly photogenic wonder in Plymouth. Mrs RM had spotted the bargain pies, and if anything is guaranteed to fuel appetite for pork in pastry in Old Tom and Plum Porter. A marvellous combination, in a pub with… Continue reading “Another pie, then ?”
WHERE DID THAT OLD TOM COME FROM ?
January 2024. Preston. Short posts from the front carriage of the inevitably delayed Manchester to Sheffield EMR service. Leaving NICOs after mixing beer and wine, Mrs RMs first words were, “That looks nice we should go in there” No, we shouldn’t. We had to be sensible with a gig in a couple of hours. Somehow,… Continue reading WHERE DID THAT OLD TOM COME FROM ?
DOES ANYTHING BEAT A PLUM PORTER AND THE BUGGLES IN THE BLACK HORSE ?
11th February 2023. Apart from being good company, Preston’s Matthew Lawrenson has the rare quality of being able to walk at my pace. So we arrived in the heart of Preston before the North End fans returned from their hammering at Burnley, before the pubs got too lively. Last time here with Matthew I’d forgot… Continue reading DOES ANYTHING BEAT A PLUM PORTER AND THE BUGGLES IN THE BLACK HORSE ?
“Your train leaves in 2 minutes, retiredmartin. Run !”
There are two burning questions in the world of pub blogging today; How is Martin the Owl being treated by the staff of the Cumberland pub where BRAPA abandoned him. How is that Leon and I were QUITE so P**** after a mere four pubs on Friday*. I think it was four. Castleford Tap at… Continue reading “Your train leaves in 2 minutes, retiredmartin. Run !”
OTLEY APP-ENINGS
You left me admiring Simon’s certificate of vaccination, which will allow him to jump the queue to get in Surrey’s micropubs, ahead of all those 20-somethings who throng Haslemere Hop Haus and Dorking Draft Dorm on a Saturday night. Surrey can wait, on Monday I was “Taxi for BRAPA“, taking the great man round the… Continue reading OTLEY APP-ENINGS
TWO PRESTON CLASSICS AND A MICK’S CHICKEN TIKKA
Once you start you can’t stop. After the Orchard I should have gone straight to Mick’s Hut for the curry and called Mrs RM to report on Matt’s Move. But you can’t walk past an open door, can you ? Particularly this one; The Black Horse has perhaps the most recognisable bar front on Pub… Continue reading TWO PRESTON CLASSICS AND A MICK’S CHICKEN TIKKA
ROCKAWAY RAMPTON
Ooh, a grumpy statue. Me so topical. James is home, and we can explore exciting Fen Edge villages in the hour before lunch. Like Rampton. Our one, not the one with a secure hospital up the A1. This was never going to be an epic trek, so Mrs RM came too. I might have promised… Continue reading ROCKAWAY RAMPTON
I YIELD TO HELLIFIELD
Into the Yorkshire Dales, almost, and one of those Craven villages you whizz by en route to the honeypot villages of Giggleswick and Feizor (?). Luckily for the ticker, Hellifield (pronounced Heffer) have commissioned a railway station, just for my visit. For a moment it looks like they won’t be getting my £1.65 as a… Continue reading I YIELD TO HELLIFIELD
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