I like pubs. Pubs are great because they show exactly where Britain’s contribution to world gastronomy came from. The French may have invented the cafe, the Italians are rightly proud of their Osteria’s and the Germans can hold their heads high with a good Beirgarten, but my heart is down the pub and I feel that hauling these pockets of British social cohesion back into relevance one pint of social beverage at a time is the best way to remind ourselves why it would be a terrible thing if they were to disappear.
Having then set the scene for this review, Duns Tew is about as English a village as you might ever hope to visit. Mrs P and I drove along the high street amusing ourselves with stories of an alternative universe where we could afford to move there. Before long though, we pulled into the White Horse and it was everything I had hoped, the place looked fantastic – and full. Very full.
Continue reading “The White Horse, Duns Tew: Review”
Have you ever had a bad day? I bet you have. Lost your keys, stepped on some lego, got a parking ticket that kind of thing, right? Well, try this one on for size; I know a girl, let’s call her ‘Sophie’, who works in marketing and she had a big launch that she was responsible for. It was the start of a big rollout so it was pretty important that everything went well. In the morning, she woke up early full of energy and passion for the day ahead and jumped in the car. The journey should have been a couple of hours or so and in her enthusiasm, she started to push it a little but unfortunately, she hit a pothole which turned her wheel egg shaped. Disaster. She was going to be late, but she can deal with that. One quick call and the recovery guys had picked her up and she was back on the road, without a car admittedly but they dropped her off at the venue and organised a rental for her to arrive later. Crisis averted? Well, not quite. The printers called to say that the card she wanted wasn’t available at the last minute, and it got later and later the launch got closer and closer but still no car… and then it started raining.
Continue reading “The Black Horse, Woburn: New Menu Review”
What is it about midweek drinking that seems like such a good idea at the time but which can so easily turn into the morning after sent directly from the crotchpocket of the Devil himself? I used to be able to to do it, I really did. I used to be able to shrug off a couple of three quid bottles of barrel scraped plonk that I picked up from the local petrol station before a nice little night cap of Asda own-brand whiskey*, then get up bright eyed and bushy tailed before breezing into the office without stinking like Father Jack after a particularly heavy session. But no more, and quite honestly I’m pretty glad about that because it means if I do deliberately choose to make myself feel like crap for a day or so, you’ll be damn sure I’ll do it in style.
Continue reading “Wine tasting at the Old Thatched Inn, Adstock: Review”