Busted!

Today is our wedding anniversary and as a special treat for having put up with me for another year I took Tracey to the pub on the proviso she paid. We didn't go to our local The Harp as whilst it is a special occasion and it a very special pub its prices reflect the specialness.

The cheap pub up the road closed due to lack of interest so that was out so we took a detour into town on the way home to try a not too bad pub we had eaten in last April. As Rene chugged up the hill it was obvious it was shut. Damn! Now where?

We headed back along the bypass, take away, no thanks, Rene navigated the side streets, a huge black and white building was illuminated in the headlights. The Oxford Arms Hotel. A sandwich board outside proclaimed an all new menu. It was also shut.

Abandoning Rene to his fate outside the chip shop we walked back the the hotel. A4 pages in the windows told us that they now cooked on Monday nights, so Wednesday was bound to be a winner, but no opening times. It was only 5.45.

It was then we discovered another advantage of living out here in the sticks, where pubs are owned by Landlords keen to please the punter, I phoned the Hotel.

"Do you cook on a Wednesday?"

"Yes"

"What time do you open?"

"What times it now?"

"5.45"

"Where are you?"

"Outside"

"Hang on I'll let you in"

As I hung up the lights came on and the pub opened. A very lively Landlord couldn't have made us feel more welcome and soon we were waiting for our meals sat by a log fire. He established we were locals, we established this was his first pub and it seemed to be doing well. We asked about the menu, he sang the praises of his chef and told us he ate his cooking all the time, we sang the praises of his beer and we had a jolly time. The food was excellent, just pub grub but huge portions, cheap and didn't involve washing up. The Landlady joined in, we complimented the pub, the chef, the atmosphere, she thanked us for coming, was glad we liked our food and would look forward to seeing us again, a couple at another table told us how much they enjoyed it there, regulars, the food was so good, we agreed and again complimented the chef.

We started to leave.

The Landlord almost rebounded off us as we opened the door, he had been outside on an errand. He scurried past looking sheepish and bolted into the kitchen clutching a white plastic carrier bag. The Landlady smiled at me. I smiled back.

"He was he carrying a takeaway wasn't he?" I said.