We had a bit of a race to get to this
pub as one of our party insisted that we carried on while he caught his breath.
Unfortunately we were on the wrong side of the road while waiting for the bus;
and when we’d worked out where to go we called him to say that there was still
time for him to join us on the next bus. We then discovered that his rail fetish
had kicked in and he’d decided to catch the train so the race was on. We then
missed our bus stop and had to double back on ourselves, so we expected him to
be there grinning at us with his beer in hand. Amazingly, we still managed to
beat him as the rail station was miles away. But what a brilliant name for a
pub. It’s a great venue for local brews, and the house bitter from Derby that I
tried was superb. The landlord himself wasn’t too impressed with this group of
southerners who’d invaded his quiet pub; even though we were there for a good
hour supping his beers and snacking on his great value cobs. But the locals
were very friendly; and were quite happy to help us on our tour; perhaps in a
bid to get rid of us or direct us to pubs that they could happily avoid. We sat
on a large table in the front room while the bar was behind us in a partly demolished
corridor. Beyond that was a further room with a smaller seating area with photographs
of the local landscape on the walls.
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