The Groover had the (dis)pleasure of dining at the
Dog and Duck today…..
…..in the, and you really couldn’t make this up…..
…..Kentish hamlet of Plucks Gutter
Acting on a “hot” tip the G.-meister put Giulietta into
‘short tour’ mode and set sail (well in the Middle Ages
Plucks Gutter was a port, now it’s 6 miles inland)
So much for coastal erosion !
It strikes me that you gain some here and you lose some
…..swings and roundabouts ! ! !
As we crested the bridge and the pub hove into sight I sensed
this was going to turn out badly
The rub-a-dub-tub was right next to a caravan sight…..
…..the expression ‘the race to the bottom’ springs to
…..this olde English pub had simply adjusted to its market
Average age of habitue: 75
Normal mode of transport: assisted (there is a mobility scooter
parking station right outside)
Normal method of hearing: hearing aid
Beam me up Scotty !
Anyway, in for a penny, in for a plate of pub grub
I aimed straight for the ‘homemade steak pudding’…..
…..and steeled myself with a pint of Doom Bar
Eventually the jolly barmaid turned up with the food
…..and politely asked ‘Would you like more gravy?’
Well, my pud seemed to have plenty of said gravy so I
Wrong move !
The jolly barmaid was in the know !
You try and eat cardboard without a lubricant (the ale
Woe was me
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough
‘Giulietta’ I whispered desperately, ‘Get me back to
‘Whoosh’ she went
‘Whoosh’ all the back back to familiar haunts
‘The Butchers Arms’ in Herne with all the familiar faces
and their colourful nicknames…..
‘The Welsh twat’
‘The fat local’
…..and many more where they came from…..
…..a pint of Broadside later and calm had been restored
Back to the world where as soon as someone leaves the cosy
confines of the Butchers someone always says…..
‘I can’t stand that pillock’