Divers seeking hidden treasure and a mad dash to make last orders make up the final installment of my chronicle of west country pub visits.
We started the day in St Audreys Bay where I parked the car on the promenade and we watched the children playing on the sands while we licked our raspberry mivvies.
Then our attention was suddenly drawn to a maelstrom near the waters edge from which emerged two men in neoprine suits each carrying a wire shopping basket and a metal detector. I rolled up my trouser bottom and went to greet them.
the 2 men were Dutch and made a living from scouring the littoral for lost money, trinkets and other such stuff dropped by holiday makers whilst frolicking in the waters. Both men claimed to be making a reasonable living from the activity, an assertion backed up by their baskets which were brimming with a plethora of gaudy trinketry.
A glance at my watch and we bade our farewells as we had the rather pressing affair of lunch at the Carew Arms, Crowcombe to attend to. Realising that we were behind schedule, I phoned through to the pub to find out at what time last food orders were taken. 1.45pm. What is it with these places? Anyway, we had 15 minutes to do the same number of miles so I said to the landlord to keep the kitchen open for us and I would buy everyone in the pub a drink. He kindly obliged and my wife and I strolled into the bar at 1.57 pm.
I went for the Asturian fabada; absolutely historic - morcilla, merguez and ham hock in a carlotti bean casserole. This was followed by lemon posset; equally as good especially when washed down with a nice bottle of Sauternes.
Anyway, I shall leave you with a selection of ditties pinned above the trough in the gents wc.
I told my psychiatrist everyone hates me.
He said don't be ridiculous, not everyone has met me yet.
Instead of getting married again I'm going to find a woman I don't like and buy her a house.
My wife and I were happy for 20 years.
Then we met.
Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.
Edit: premature click of save button
We started the day in St Audreys Bay where I parked the car on the promenade and we watched the children playing on the sands while we licked our raspberry mivvies.
Then our attention was suddenly drawn to a maelstrom near the waters edge from which emerged two men in neoprine suits each carrying a wire shopping basket and a metal detector. I rolled up my trouser bottom and went to greet them.
the 2 men were Dutch and made a living from scouring the littoral for lost money, trinkets and other such stuff dropped by holiday makers whilst frolicking in the waters. Both men claimed to be making a reasonable living from the activity, an assertion backed up by their baskets which were brimming with a plethora of gaudy trinketry.
A glance at my watch and we bade our farewells as we had the rather pressing affair of lunch at the Carew Arms, Crowcombe to attend to. Realising that we were behind schedule, I phoned through to the pub to find out at what time last food orders were taken. 1.45pm. What is it with these places? Anyway, we had 15 minutes to do the same number of miles so I said to the landlord to keep the kitchen open for us and I would buy everyone in the pub a drink. He kindly obliged and my wife and I strolled into the bar at 1.57 pm.
I went for the Asturian fabada; absolutely historic - morcilla, merguez and ham hock in a carlotti bean casserole. This was followed by lemon posset; equally as good especially when washed down with a nice bottle of Sauternes.
Anyway, I shall leave you with a selection of ditties pinned above the trough in the gents wc.
I told my psychiatrist everyone hates me.
He said don't be ridiculous, not everyone has met me yet.
Instead of getting married again I'm going to find a woman I don't like and buy her a house.
My wife and I were happy for 20 years.
Then we met.
Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.
Edit: premature click of save button
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