With Leasingham and Holdingham safely under my belt, both positive experiences to boot, I was wandering along the road back into Sleaford when I reached today's third pub.
A lady on a picnic bench just out of shot looks up at me inquisitively, tells me she's just finishing her cigarette and will be inside to serve me shortly ......
And that set the scene for one of those 'typically unlikely' 2023 Good Beer Guide entries , the sort of 'let's support the local boozer' types at White Horse, Sleaford (2604 / 4499). She's soon back in, apologising, asking how my day has been, what I'm up to today, though unlike our Leasingham heroines, her concentration and interest is visibly wavering as I get into the nitty gritty of BRAPA! The Belhaven, like my chat, is quite boring, but the pub itself is an easy one to warm to if you love the slightly out of town no frill, mobility scooter estate types. Fine upholstered benches, grand bay windows. Not long before a jolly couple are playing pool in my face, a perky duo, and she could be quite pretty .... if she had her own teeth! Her man friend declares that not only is he a local pool champion, but he is sticking to Pepsi, possibly to improve his chances. So when Col gives him an accidental arse nudge, and his high cheek-boned missus earns a shock victory as he sinks the black too soon, you can see his fragile confidence wane. Time to leave before Colin causes more bovva.
Time to catch a train. Ruskington or Heckington would do. Both hopelessly Lincolnshire sounding place - file under Snitterby!
I hop on the first one I see, so the former it is ......
A beautiful shape, almost 'crooked' you could say, bloke in the blue coat certainly has a shifty 'I've brought my matches' look about him as he apologises for blocking my entrance at pub of the day contender Shoulder of Mutton, Ruskington (2605 / 4500). Didn't realise this was my 4,500th pub, meaning I've now done a full GBGs worth, sadly no chance this 4,500 will all get in the edition all at once unless CAMRA decide Gloucestershire, Devon, West Wales and the Northern Isles of Scotland aren't really worth bothering with. This new found 'relaxed, effervescent Lincs' not really witnessed before I circled Sleaford comes to the fore again. A young lad at the bar tells me that if you are a youngster, just getting into fishing, it is important to get your first 'catch' early on, or else you're finished before you've started! I nod sagely, stifling a giggle. Luckily, blue bloke is back inside with a different top on, making a sarky comment and ordering a drink, a diversion to help me escape to the far end. A lady with the air of an elderly Sharon Stone staring into a happy abyss appears very content, and eventually exclaims she's got a real craving for Branston pickle! No one had asked, then a Google Pixel advert appears on the screen above her. Pixel / Pickle, so near yet so far.
Train back to Sleaford for my final tick today, close to the station across the railway line, just as Miss Leasingham 2023 had told me it would be. What a strategist!
My phone died the second I entered the pub, despite the battery not being particularly low. A bad omen for Carre Arms Hotel, Sleaford (2606 / 4501). I got the impression that I was supposed to fully embrace this plush spangly red hotel bar of leafy quality, but I found it a frustrating experience. Two massive gripes really did for it in my eyes. Firstly, poor ale. And poor Bass at that. A heinous crime. I should've known from the smudged chalk drawn 'pump clip' to be wary. Had to ask the barmaid if that says 'Bass'? She's a bit snappy when confirming. It tastes of farts. With so many plants around, plant-potting it would've been a doddle for RetiredMartin. And secondly, the bar blockers. Cliquey. No spatial awareness. Love their own. Ignorant of strangers. I end up eating my quiche and Space Raiders directly behind them, almost in protest! Cathartic. When everyone leaves, there's this one kind old man propping up the bar. Smiley, nice. Wants to impress on me how this is EASILY the best pub in Sleaford. But I'm very non-committal in my reply and he thinks I'm a right moody so and so!
Back to Grantham it was, and time for a little pre-emptive I'd spotted on the station because who doesn't love a station tap?
I was already a bit tiddly upon entering Whistle Stop, Grantham and I don't think ordering a 6.8% IPA from 8-Sail (the Heckington brewpub I so easily could've done earlier) helped much! I blame the Abbots in the Jolly Scotchman for putting me on a slippery slope. Well, I listen to a bit of my music in the far corner, nurse my beer, end up choking on a bit of quiche and running off to the station loos, so was hard for me to get a feel for the place! Seemed quite bright n breezy, not as ornate as some but decent, filled up with folk around work chucking out time, but I've pencilled in a return visit as I don't want it to be one of those places like Stalybridge's Buffet Bar that I've never witnessed sober, thought you could argue Stalybridge is exactly the kind of place better enjoyed pie-eyed.
And there we have it, I am out tomorrow Thirsty Thursdaying , then it will be September, so I'll try and bang out my month end review on Friday for your amusement as we approach the squeaky bum time of the season.
Thanks for reading and good night, Si
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