Out of choice I would normally enter a country pub through the front door hoping for a warm welcome from the landlord; however with this being smack bang on a busy ‘A’road, with other nearby properties I had no alternative but to enter through the kitchen window, discarded beer barrels have their uses.
A tale of woe ensued firstly as the kitchen unit collapsed under my weight and I ended up on my arse amidst the disintegrated cheap chipboard. Thinking:
A) fuck that’ll wake the neighbours up
B) hope my camera is ok
C) Ow!
Picking myself up, moments later ending back on my arse, losing my footing on the greasey floor. ‘Jesus H Christ on a bike’ said one of the voices in my head, ‘give up whilst you can’ said another.
‘Fuck off’ said I, and crossed the kitchen floor like Torville and Dean at their peak.
Urbex Rule#612; mooch alone then no one can laugh at your misfortune
I was already wondering why the place was shutdown especially with this being in a prime location both for passing trade, lovers of the countryside, and them bloody rambler types, you know the sort:
The ones with a walking stick, (even though they don’t need one), adorned with hammered on little metal badges. Smug badges of honour.
Or back packs covered in badges, “I’ve walked the pennine way’, “join me on the Camino de Santiago’, or even worse “ramblers do it where they want’.
Oh! And beards
Then I saw the delights on the “board”
“Scampi in a basket’? sheesh! that was haute cuisine in the 70’s and dear god alive you are offered a choice of three sauces or mayo, Heston fucking Blumenthal you are behind the curve fella.
The other potential delights didn’t appeal either. And no sauce, no sauce! What’s going on here. Then I saw the sauce!
It’s not HP! It’s a cheap imitation, have you no shame chef?
Into the public areas, not much to see as the place had been stripped of Most of its fixtures and fittings
Wonder if it’s a fish finger samich or vesta beef curry at the banquet, everything served in a basket, sauce optional. ( stranger things: this isn’t the crown inn, wonder how the till got here)
They say when the Welsh get going they enjoy a beer or two.
So let’s have a look upstairs.
Only a few bits lying discarded in the living quarters, even less in the rooms
I tried “1234” “6789” and gave up, life is too short.
Guess some young lady went home commando, as did I, without the Palava I endured getting in. Happy days
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Had me laughing..., your tales are getting better!
I like Scampi in a basket thanks, depending on if the chips are those frozen shit ones or not. The sauce is the cheap crap stuff though. I like the bottle, not just a smattering on my plate.
That’s why I journey solo!!!
How about sauce in those silly little plastic sealed bags that take you for ever to rip open! And you need about 5 to get a decent splodge!
Yeah, I hate those, they give you two and expect you to be satisfied.
I have that same pair! :)
Authentic Medieval drink = pond water? ... after the suspected witches have been dragged through it.
Too much information!!