My bread machine failed this morning, or rather the mixture I out in it did. The yeast must have been off because when it bleeped to tell me it had done it's job all I found inside was a shrivelled, dark brown blob. Dam, no bread for lunch and I had not planned on doing any shopping as I had other calls on my time.
by midday my most pressing jobs were done and I look out the window to see the sun was trying it's best but there were clearly rain clouds gathering in the distance. Best take brac for his walk now and maybe I won't get wet. I give mum a ring to see if she wants to join me. she is having to do more exercise on doctor's orders so joining me on dog walks is ideal. "give me 10 minutes and I'll meet you in the normal place". I hang up and wander into the kitchen to pick up my car keys. I remember I don't have nay bread for lunch. Back on the phone to mum, "shall we get a pub lunch?" "Great, that would be nice."
There is a 14th century pub, called 'The chequers' about a mile and a half away with a reasonable area for walking next to it by the river. The pub is quite rustic, nothing fancy, plain but good food, beams, open fire in winter, tables that don't have little brass numbers set into them, friendly atmosphere and happy to accept dogs. Basically the quintessential English pub. I collect mum and we head for it. the rain clouds are building so we decide to walk first and eat after.
The walk does wonders for my appetite and we are quite looking forward to getting back to the pub. We walk in and purchase some drinks, puruse the menu and order some food. We sat down at a table opposite the bar and Brac lies down at my side. I was vaguely aware that the girl serving was new but thought little of it.
The people at the next table start making a fuss of Brac who is all too happy for the attention. He often gets a fuss made of him here, even the chef would come out and give him a hug as he liked Border collies. but things have changed. we are about half way through our meal when an older lady comes over to us to ask which of us owned the dog. "I do" I said. "We don't allow dogs in here when people are eating" she replies as if it has always been so and I should know.
"Since when? I've been coming here for years and there has never been a problem?"
"It's the law".
"Only if you class yourself as a restaurant. It's no illegal in a pub." I respond.
"Well it our rules."
"Brac was always made a fuss of by your staff before"
"That was the previous owners, we've only been here 3 month. You can take him outside in the garden next time." but I had already decided there wasn't going to be a 'Next time'.
We finished our meal and left. No coffee or desert and no intention of returning. Dogs make pubs, they are part of the fixtures and fittings in my book. As traditional as an open fire.
Before we left the people at the next table made a big show of fussing Brac some more. I knew they felt the same as me.
Now back to that bread machine.
by midday my most pressing jobs were done and I look out the window to see the sun was trying it's best but there were clearly rain clouds gathering in the distance. Best take brac for his walk now and maybe I won't get wet. I give mum a ring to see if she wants to join me. she is having to do more exercise on doctor's orders so joining me on dog walks is ideal. "give me 10 minutes and I'll meet you in the normal place". I hang up and wander into the kitchen to pick up my car keys. I remember I don't have nay bread for lunch. Back on the phone to mum, "shall we get a pub lunch?" "Great, that would be nice."
There is a 14th century pub, called 'The chequers' about a mile and a half away with a reasonable area for walking next to it by the river. The pub is quite rustic, nothing fancy, plain but good food, beams, open fire in winter, tables that don't have little brass numbers set into them, friendly atmosphere and happy to accept dogs. Basically the quintessential English pub. I collect mum and we head for it. the rain clouds are building so we decide to walk first and eat after.
The walk does wonders for my appetite and we are quite looking forward to getting back to the pub. We walk in and purchase some drinks, puruse the menu and order some food. We sat down at a table opposite the bar and Brac lies down at my side. I was vaguely aware that the girl serving was new but thought little of it.
The people at the next table start making a fuss of Brac who is all too happy for the attention. He often gets a fuss made of him here, even the chef would come out and give him a hug as he liked Border collies. but things have changed. we are about half way through our meal when an older lady comes over to us to ask which of us owned the dog. "I do" I said. "We don't allow dogs in here when people are eating" she replies as if it has always been so and I should know.
"Since when? I've been coming here for years and there has never been a problem?"
"It's the law".
"Only if you class yourself as a restaurant. It's no illegal in a pub." I respond.
"Well it our rules."
"Brac was always made a fuss of by your staff before"
"That was the previous owners, we've only been here 3 month. You can take him outside in the garden next time." but I had already decided there wasn't going to be a 'Next time'.
We finished our meal and left. No coffee or desert and no intention of returning. Dogs make pubs, they are part of the fixtures and fittings in my book. As traditional as an open fire.
Before we left the people at the next table made a big show of fussing Brac some more. I knew they felt the same as me.
Now back to that bread machine.
