One of the great things about a Senior bus pass is that you can - on local village routes - flag a bus down and get off where you like - well within reason. Certainly on the Horsham, Petworth route the drivers are very understanding.
Well, every other month Mike and I meet up at Balls Cross - its convenient for Mike and its convenient for me because the bus from Horsham stops there. Also, the Ball Cross pub, is, in its own way, provides, good food and lots of character - all the things that a local pub should be.
Well, today, I got it wrong. Quiet, it was not. Well, perhaps not so much lacking in quiet but more lacking in appreciation as to what a local pub is about. There we were- just the two of us and Daisy- sitting by the bar, near the open fire and at peace with the world when BANG - in came the walkers/ramblers.
I do not have a problem with ramblers, but is it possible that on, say, a ramblers inductions course, they might be instructed in the basic arts of entering a pub. Simple things, like, shutting the door and shutting the door and shutting the door, and not asking for coffee at 1pm. God help us, its a pub after all. So the ramblers have learnt to put Tesco bags on their dirty boots but shutting doors is more important - especially when its cold.
Balls Cross is in the middle of nowhere, yet from nowhere, somebody from my past appeared - Vince - from my Loxwood days. One or two "Hellos and How are yous" - it only takes a few moments to catch up with twenty years happenings.
And all the time Daisy was asleep under the bar stool. Balls Cross is an idyll - somewhere to take, or meet somebody special. As usual Mike and I put the world to rights and left feeling satisfied.
Well, every other month Mike and I meet up at Balls Cross - its convenient for Mike and its convenient for me because the bus from Horsham stops there. Also, the Ball Cross pub, is, in its own way, provides, good food and lots of character - all the things that a local pub should be.
Well, today, I got it wrong. Quiet, it was not. Well, perhaps not so much lacking in quiet but more lacking in appreciation as to what a local pub is about. There we were- just the two of us and Daisy- sitting by the bar, near the open fire and at peace with the world when BANG - in came the walkers/ramblers.
I do not have a problem with ramblers, but is it possible that on, say, a ramblers inductions course, they might be instructed in the basic arts of entering a pub. Simple things, like, shutting the door and shutting the door and shutting the door, and not asking for coffee at 1pm. God help us, its a pub after all. So the ramblers have learnt to put Tesco bags on their dirty boots but shutting doors is more important - especially when its cold.
Balls Cross is in the middle of nowhere, yet from nowhere, somebody from my past appeared - Vince - from my Loxwood days. One or two "Hellos and How are yous" - it only takes a few moments to catch up with twenty years happenings.
And all the time Daisy was asleep under the bar stool. Balls Cross is an idyll - somewhere to take, or meet somebody special. As usual Mike and I put the world to rights and left feeling satisfied.
Yes and the haggis was good too. Middle of West Sussex and haggis - what a pub.
The 14.30 bus arrived on time, and I expect, given a fair following wind, we could well meet up again in March. Doubt if the haggis will still be on the menu. Pity.
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