Having written about a great little – and it really was tiny – pub we visited in Derbyshire, we decided to trot down to our beloved Dolphin to see what was happening on Easter Sunday… actually nothing much! We had spent a lovely day with friends and enjoyed a splendid Sunday roast followed by a country walk, and maybe the other regulars had too and had then decided to stay home.
The smiliest barman in the world was working, and some young people including our son were sitting at the bar. We took our pints of Otter and sat, tonight in the cross-benches (the bar between the other two bars, and called the cross-benches as a nod to the parliamentary expression for someone not allied to any party)
I often mention the two T’s who come in on a Sunday evening, Tim and Trev, tonight they were absent but a third T, Terry was in, telling us how he got confused between German and Welsh when counting… yes, that’s what he said. There was a discussion about MMA (mixed martial arts) about films, about Fawlty Towers, about Swaziland, about swearing in French… pretty much a typical night in the pub.
We walked home down the middle of the road – no cars through the village at that time of night, and reflected again how lucky we are to live where we do and have the Dolphin as our local!