Saturday 1st March 2025
Three years to the day since the scariest BRAPA walk of all time, when I nearly put the 'gore' into Bransgore ....
So you can imagine my apprehension as I undertake the two mile pavementless uphill walk out of Chesham towards the bus-free hamlet of Asheridge.
I needn't have worried. Sun shining, blue sky, twitter of birds, occasional posho car forcing me into a bramble hedge but it is all very sedate, biggest threat was being pecked to death by one of the many red kites circling above. Do red kites peck?
By 11:50am, I'm sitting on a bench opposite the pub patiently waiting for that most joyous of sounds, the pub key to turn in the latch.
It hadn't been the easiest of mornings so I was glad for ten minutes down time. On the train to London, I realise I've packed my 'broken' charger with no android lead. Silly. It snapped between Newton Abbot and Totnes last summer if you wondered.
Once in London, Chesham takes an age to reach because every Met line Tube train is going to Uxbridge or Amersham.
When I finally make it, I pop into 'Mini Amsterdam' (good Google reviews) for a charging lead and some tasty brownies which give me a relaxed fluffy feeling.
Back to the present, I dole out a cheerful 'good morning' to some trainee horse riders who look terrified, of course they do, no one speaks to strangers in posh Bucks, and then I see a bloke unlock the pub .....
'Would you like a menu?' (she doesn't mean a beer menu) is the first thing I'm asked, army of expectant blinkers geared up for a dining onslaught which never really materialises. Oh Bucks, how I've missed you (NOT!) Blue Ball, Asheridge (2988 / 5473) is good though, certainly above average for the county. 'Side Pocket for a Toad' is a fine drink, and it is superb here. I'm not the only customer for long, local bar blockers in shorts take the piss out of a lady for collecting hats. She's my favourite though. Sees me observing the Clown Loach (isn't' he a film director? Not really, tropical fish. Just my silly little joke). "They're not on the menu you know!" she quips. Later on, the staff feed them and she turns around and tells me "they're fattening them up for us!" Our hat collector really brought the banter. In more unpleasant news, I'm 90% sure I hear the older barmaid slagging me off for sitting at a large table when I'm only drinking! Now considering how large the pub is, how many tables are kitted out for dining, how there is no designated drinking area save for blocking the bar, plus the lack of custom this early, it seemed a shitty thing to say. But taking pub at face value, the battered pea green carpet, woodburner, and rather homely rustic hubbub, I'd still recommend it cos I'm charitable like that.
With the lack of buses and my second pub just as far out of Chesham the other way, time for a #TaxiCheat
With no Ubers in the vicinity, I contact a company I saw drive past me, early, Gilberts. Like the alien. Turns out they have an App like Uber I need to use, and a bloody relief when a car arrives cos I'd had no confirmation, I thought my booking had disappeared into a Bucks black hole. The worst type of black hole.
Pub two has a neighbouring one next door, don't go in the wrong one! Though it is probably pre-emptive, every bugger is.
Crown, Ley Hill (2989 / 5474) is more the sort of gaff I expect from Bucks, but has clung onto enough character to have me nodding in approval. Take those coloured glass panels above the bar, pleasing. I have plenty of time to admire them because the bloke next to me at the bar is on one of those never ending family lunch orders. I blame the staff. 'Would you like to add chips as well?' 'Any crisps?' They obviously wanted this guy to be starched out. He then adds a bonus lemonade in injury time to add to my torture. A dog has spotted me and is making the strangest noise - like Concorde taking off according to the woman behind, which for my younger readers is this aeroplane which was big in the 80's but kept exploding. Younger readers? Yeah, who am I kidding! "Hope it's a sign he likes me!" I say. Owner assures me he probably does. With my pint of Pride finally in hand (drinking well - Doom and Black Sheep were the other fun options), I find one of those stupid barrels to sit at with nowhere for your legs to go. The majority of diners have gone outside to the grass (god bless you spring weather!) but one couple eat cauli cheese in full view of Colin which is triggering #WokeSi2025 The bus back into Chesham has been tracking eight mins behind schedule all this time, but suddenly is only three behind, so I have a very fluid movement of necking pint, wee, and out of back door!
Pesky bus goes and makes up another minute, but fear not, I can see the bus stop from the pub door and leap for it like a gazelle. Driver and passengers wonder why I'm puffing and blowing, but I don't care. I don't live around here.
A ten minute walk into the Chesham backstreets brings us to pub three of the day, and the final one of this part (I'll try and bring you part 2 on Friday as I'm out tomorrow AND Thursday night, but sadly not in a BRAP way).
Top location, top pub. Fullers have some incredible stuff in their collection, they should release a pub guide, I'd tick it, and Queens Head, Chesham (2990 / 5475) is a new entry in my Fullers Top 10, if I had such a list. We'd need another 2 yr lockdown for that kind of bullshit blog to happen. Incredible barmaid gang too, bloke before me nearly gets charged £600, he's blindly swiped his CC, and only an eagle eyed colleague notices last minute. This dramatic delay gives me time to talk myself into a pint of 2pm ESB. After all, I don't HAVE to have one in the Parcel Yard later, I could have a pale, or better still a coffee and sausage roll .... I bet you can guess what happens in Part Two. "Best check you're not charging me five million quid by mistake!" I joke. That sparks the sprightly staff into further chatter, one tells me she nearly charged a bloke £6 million last week and had to chase the customer down the street to inform them of error! Hmmm, seems a bit of theme developing here, I'm saying nowt! I sit by a beautiful 10/10 open fire being tending by a hippie who might work here, or just likes glass collecting, as Possible Barry from Eggheads and Mrs P Barry wax lyrical on local cheeses. Apart from a badly positioned (out of action) dartboard, I couldn't find fault. Gorgeous.
See you Friday for a trio from London & Herts, Si
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