So I’m off to Bispham Green’s magnificent Eagle and Child for tea this evening. Now this is a pretty old-skool pub, what with big flagstones, low head cracking beams and a troll lurking down the end of the bowling green for all I know (as well as fabulous selection of ales, ciders and what have you). It also serves cracking grub, in the finest rib-sticking lancastrian traditions (heavy on the potatoes, heavy on everything, really). But I do wonder how on earth they stay open.
The area north of my home town of Ormskirk is a network of villages, each of which seems to possess one really good pub knocking out really good food. And every time I’ve been in one they’ve been heaving. As these are all pretty tiny villages it is an exceedingly high dinner to inhabitant ratio. Which begs the question where on earth are all the customers coming from? I shall straw poll my fellow diners this evening in an attempt to solve this one, though this may require me to get drunk enough to be able to ignore my beloved hissing at me to leave the nice people alone.