37. Wallingford and its Environs, Saturday 16th August 2003

The opportunity was taken to do a last pub crawl before the holidays, so Dave and I decided to crack the Wallingford area, which appeared to be a glaring omission in the regions of done pubs. After spending the morning sorting the bikes out, we razzed down to the station for the train and were swiftly whisked to Cholsey where we notched up the first pub, the rather dire Red Lion, though as it turned out this was not to be the worst pub of the day by a long way... It had the look of being rather old fashioned, the sort of place that did Sunday lunches in the dining room, and the barman was a bit strange and obtuse. Brakespear was the only beer on, and the toilets were awful, though plus points were awarded because there were some nice ornaments strewn around the bar. Not a good start.

Gunning up the road, we hoped that things would improve in Wallingford. Alas no, it was not to be in the Town Inn. Of note though was that the Ushers Best was served up by one of the most buxom women ever. The pub could do with as much help as possible as it was again dire. A moderately decent pub was encountered with the Dolphin at Wallingford, where we sat outside in their rear courtyard. Three beers greeted us this time - IPA, Ruddles County and Morland Original, though the County tasted funny. The atmosphere in this pub was a bit of an improvement and there were reasonable snacks, so we might, just might, return one day.

A bit of a cycle allowed us to sober a little before reaching the Shillingford Bridge Hotel which is one of the only pubs I know with its own swimming pool. We had an inordinately long wait as no-one could be arsed serving behind the bar before some over-priced mediocre halves of Brakespear appeared. Still, I suppose the riverside location was quite nice... Finding that a couple of pubs that we wanted to visit were closed, we had a change of plans and cycled through a field, eventually making our way to Benson where we went to the Crown. They had three beers on - IPA, Original and Abbot - but the place was a bit 'big fish, small pond' with lots of stupid aggravated locals and squaddies drinking, the sort of place where it might all go off quite regularly.

Some more closed pubs followed, notably at Ewelme. Why oh why do these places shut on Saturday afternoons? My theory is that we're just too near London and too many middle-class sorts live there, who wouldn't dream of lowering themselves to visit the pub in the afternoon. Snobs. But we were finally happy to find the Fox and Hounds open in Watlington, and quite rewarding it was too. Brakespear Bitter and Hooray Henley were on, the Hooray being dirt cheap as it was on offer, and very nice too. This was about the first decent pub of the day and we made the most of it sitting in their comfy chairs, safe in the knowledge that cyclists were welcome. Just round the corner was the Carriers Arms, which did Adnams, Bass, 6X and Toby (keg). This was a modern pub with a low ceiling and had the feel of a hotel bar, but was pleasant enough for the football results. Outside the garden affords views eastwards towards the big hill which Christmas Common is on. Notable points include a good array of bar snacks and pint glasses with the number 16.

The chip shop was shut, but we managed to keep ourselves going a bit with some nutrients from the incredible range of bar snacks on offer at the Watlington Memorial Hall - the cockles and pork scratchings were superb. Full marks to the barman for getting us get a couple of pints in at the splendid prices they have. We chose Spitfire, which was a tasty pint, but Brakespear and Hook Norton Best were also in the pumps. A little bit of a cycle followed, taking us to the Lord Nelson at Brightwell Baldwin. And what a splendid pub! A must to take people for dinners! Fantastic pints of Lodden Hoppit, West Berkshire Good Old Boy and Hook Norton Best were available. The solids look to be excellent too, not that we had any, and to boot, a man in a bow tie came out with a ramikin dish of olives/gherkins/other pickles on the house.

A second decent pub was soon to follow, the Home Sweet Home at Roke. It was pitched at a similar level as the Lord Nelson. It nearly suceeded, but the beer was just 6X, albeit very good, but pricey too. Ancient Carling glasses with the numbers 472 on the side contained our halves which we decided to consume in some excellent old bastards chairs. Certainly a pub for an evening session if you could tolerate the prices. Good toilets too. Just up the road was the Chequers at Berrick Salome which left us a little disappointed. The beer was Brakespear Bitter and Special, and the latter was of good standard, but there was nothing else noteworthy to the pub, having two spartan looking bars, though there was a bar billiards table.

Finally we managed to get into the Six Bells at Warborough which has previously been closed. This was a thatched pub next to a cricket pitch so we had high expectations, but in the event it let us down a little. Again Brakespear Special and Bitter were available, but were expensive, and the bar was a bit foody, with Aussie blokes and no bar snacks either! At this point we decided that in fact it might be more sensible to go to Culham, surely we could collect the intended Cholsey train there, and I discovered that I had a puncture. With this new plan and on a flat tyre, we went to Dorchester and stopped at the first pub for repairs which was the Fleur de Lys. I took my front wheel of and into the pub and was greeted by the usual banal comments from the locals, very bloody funny, and I supped some IPA while swapping the innertube. Ruddles Best, Abbot and pissflow Mild were on offer too. Apart from this it was a very formulaic Greene King pub, aren't they all?

Passing some other pubs in Dorchester, and then out in the pitch black cycling along the centre line of the A road to Culham because it was so dark (we did have lights but they were somewhat crap), we finally arrived at Culham station where we thought we could intercept our train. In their wisdom, British Rail decided that the one that passes through at about 10.20pm doesn't stop which we hadn't bargained for, so our only alternative was to wait for an hour in the Railway Inn next door. During this time we consumed a pint of John Smiths (on draught!) and Fiddlers Elbow each and became rapidly pissed whilst swearing very loudly and playing pool. Fortunately we were the only punters in the pub, which was a bit of a shame as it was actually quite roomy and pleasant in there. The bar snacks were also very good, opting myself for scratchings and a pickled egg. Eventually, we staggered out and on to the train, then to Hussains for a bad bab and finally home where I don't remember much. I have a feeling those last couple of pints put us over the edge, though perhaps the empty stomach had something to do with it ... still, 38 miles can't be bad.


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Dan Lovegrove
dan@doctor-lovegrove.com

Last updated 9th September 2003.