A weekend of exploring lesser known parts of Devon and Somerset brought my wife and I to a 3 charming hostelries each of which, I feel, merits a detailed account in its own thread.
I shall begin by recounting our visit to a particularly unique establishment in a village not far from from the town of Launceston.
Before I begin, I'd like to point out that we have been privy to matters that were related to us in confidence and so any reference to actual place names or characters, I feel, is precluded.
The first thing that srikes one about the Cock and Bottle upon crossing the threshold to enter its bar is just how small it is. The next impression one gets is that of larger than life landlady, Margolin, who greeted us in her booming voice and
gestured at the naugahyde covered bar stools for us to make ourselves at home.
Margolin got into the trade after having been a professional dancer for many years and she started to tell us her life story
as she deftly poured us two pints of Dartmoor Legend (which she whimsically pronounced leg-end).
It turns out Margolin has hoofed it all around the world performing a pas de deux in front of the Queen at the London Palladium to flashing her gusset at our boys in Iraq.
But what amazed us most as we munched on our pork scratchings (and, indeed, serves as the justification for this post) is what she revealed next. You see, Margolin hung up her dancing shoes to become a post mistress. Nothing amazing about that, I hear you say, but she was the post mistress of the very same establishment in which we were imbibing her splendid ales.
Yes, that's right! Inspired by Prince Charles' clarion call to make the pub the hub of the community, Margolin added a pub to her post office where others were adding post offices to their pubs. And not only that, she's now got shot of the post office and the whole ground floor of her house is a pub where the tables were straining 'neath loaded platter as we settled up and bade our farewells after a marvellously enjoyable evening.
PS If anyone wishes to know where we were, please feel free to drop me a PM.
I shall begin by recounting our visit to a particularly unique establishment in a village not far from from the town of Launceston.
Before I begin, I'd like to point out that we have been privy to matters that were related to us in confidence and so any reference to actual place names or characters, I feel, is precluded.
The first thing that srikes one about the Cock and Bottle upon crossing the threshold to enter its bar is just how small it is. The next impression one gets is that of larger than life landlady, Margolin, who greeted us in her booming voice and
gestured at the naugahyde covered bar stools for us to make ourselves at home.
Margolin got into the trade after having been a professional dancer for many years and she started to tell us her life story
as she deftly poured us two pints of Dartmoor Legend (which she whimsically pronounced leg-end).
It turns out Margolin has hoofed it all around the world performing a pas de deux in front of the Queen at the London Palladium to flashing her gusset at our boys in Iraq.
But what amazed us most as we munched on our pork scratchings (and, indeed, serves as the justification for this post) is what she revealed next. You see, Margolin hung up her dancing shoes to become a post mistress. Nothing amazing about that, I hear you say, but she was the post mistress of the very same establishment in which we were imbibing her splendid ales.
Yes, that's right! Inspired by Prince Charles' clarion call to make the pub the hub of the community, Margolin added a pub to her post office where others were adding post offices to their pubs. And not only that, she's now got shot of the post office and the whole ground floor of her house is a pub where the tables were straining 'neath loaded platter as we settled up and bade our farewells after a marvellously enjoyable evening.
PS If anyone wishes to know where we were, please feel free to drop me a PM.
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