We did stop last night at the George, and had a most interesting evening. It was very quiet when we went in, and we got talking to a man who turned out to be the pub’s owner; born in Ramsey but now living in London, he’d come back to run the place when the last tenants left at short notice. Sebastian and I had a couple of games of pool and darts, and we got chatting to the other people who came in, and had a very nice evening. Sadly there was not food on, as Tim was running the place on his own, but he did do us some very nice potato roasties, and regaled us with marvellous tales of gay pubs he worked in in
The next morning we were awoken by the gentle babble of traditional country fisherpersons: ‘There’s a fucking boat there’, ‘Fucking wankers’, ‘Fucking sink it’ etc. as they went about their time honoured task of extracting their carbon fibre poles from their traditional white vans. We let them settle to their noble calling before starting the engine and continuing on our way with a cheery wave.
So before we knew it, we were back at Bill Fen, Sebastian feeling slightly delicate (no doubt due to falling asleep in a draft with his neck at a funny angle and not the five pints of Greene King IPA he’d drunk), Jim got us onto Warrior’s berth single handed (where was I? Keeping out of the way, of course), and then went over the Rainbow while I (and Baz, who’d perked up a bit by now) removed the previous night’s mud deposits from the boat.
Tonight we finally made it to Holme – albeit by car rather than boat – to visit the Admiral Wells pub. This was recommended to us as ‘not a typical Fenland pub’ which |I have to say, was quite a refreshing prospect, and it was OK. Good selection of beer (I tried the Tydd Steam Brewery’s Piston) and nice food. This time we got chatting to a guy from Indiana, who lives in Ramsey and is seriously into real ale. Another nice evening.