Pub 77, Day 29 – Ridgeway Arms

By Andy

The problem with having high standards is that you always live to regret them.

Our mutual friend Danny refuses to go on a date with a female unless she is a supermodel, and as a consequence he is destined to die a lonely, unsatisfied virgin. 

I had turned my nose up at The Birley's food due to its unhygienic bathrooms and uninspiring menu, and we now faced a mad dash to the Ridgeway Arms before they stopped serving food.

Me and Rob limbered up for the walk between pubs, a routine we had become well-accustomed to during our Pubquest tours.

“What are you doing?” asked our guest Reanna, as I performed a few warm-up stretches. 

Official Pubquest Policy states that we must walk between pubs: it's a well-known fact that a 5-minute walk burns off enough calories to negate the two pints of beer and one bag of pork scratchings that we typically consume. This was politely explained.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” countered Reanna, as Rob placed a sweatband over his head.

Me and Rob exchanged wary glances, while I changed into my lycra.

“This is only your second Pubquest pub, you can't start dictating all the rules,” Rob informed his sister curtly, as he stuck tape over his nipples, lest they chafe.

“Well I'm getting the bus,” stropped Reanna.

Sensing a quarrel between the siblings, I tried to intervene. Opening Google Maps on my phone, I typed in the route and waited for it to load.

“It'll probably be quicker to walk to be honest, it's only--” The route loaded. “Fuck. 1.8 miles!”

Undeterred, me and Rob set off to walk, leaving Reanna behind at the bus stop. We had gone a full fifty yards before I realised we had made a mistake: I turned around to see an 18-year-old girl alone at a dark bus stop, on a cold night, in an area she didn't know. It was clear I needed to amend the error.

“If you get there first, order me a steak and chips,” I bellowed back at her. “Medium-rarrrrrre!”

***

On the walk, me and Rob foolishly convinced ourselves that we could beat the bus. Public transport is so unreliable, we said; much better to just put one foot in front of the other. Not only would Reanna have to wait for the bus to turn up, but her journey would be punctuated by stops every 30 seconds.

Our delusions were shattered when we arrived to see a very bored-looking Reanna sat in the corner, already halfway through her drink. After apologising for our late arrival (for the second time that night), Rob struck a deal with his sister that they wouldn't mention this little escapade to their mother.

The walk had certainly increased my appetite, but no matter because it was about to be quelled. After all, my hunger was the primary reason we had come to this pub: we had checked online before setting off, they served food until 10pm. I glanced at my watch: it was 9:40.

I approached the bar with a smile, knowing the internal agony of my hunger would soon come to an end. I even had the foresight to check our table number.

“Steak and chips please,” I requested. “Medium-rare.”

“Sorry, we're not serving food anymore, you're too late.”

The hunger in my stomach suddenly transformed to anger, as I realised I might end the night without a meal.

“But, but, it says on your website you serve food until 10!” I spluttered.

“Yeah we do, but it's been quiet tonight, the chef's gone home,” the barmaid replied, oblivious to the impact of her words.

“WELL BRING HIM BACK THEN!” [I may or may not have actually said this.]

However I remonstrated, it was no use. The woman in front of me claimed to be incapable of putting even the most basic of items into a microwave without the supervision of the chef.

Not that I'm sulking, but the choice of beers was shit too. We had to have Strongbow.

I wanted to give the pub 0/10 for starving me. However, I was overruled by Rob.

Pub: Ridgeway Arms (Quarry Hill, S20 5AZ)

Rating: 4.5/10

Pint: Strongbow

Brewery: H. P. Bulmer (Hereford)

NEXT UP: The best pub of the night, at The British Oak...