Monday, November 8, 2010
Ye Olde George Inn, Christchurch, Dorset
Downtown Christchurch, a short walk from the ruins of Christchurch Castle is this charming carriage pub. There's an archway over the courtyard carved "Duck Yer Nut." Anyone on a horse would get konked in the forehead without obeying. To the right at ground level is a small barred window. The plaque above tells that prisoners deported to Australia had this last glance of Merry Ol' and free folks headed into the pub for an ale. We were at Stonehenge when my cousin said, "we need to get back, I want to buy you a beer." I asked him, "why?" He said, "because it's your birthday!" When we got back to town and walked from The Druid House to the Inn, it was closed. 10:00 p.m. We went back another night. It's a tiny place, awesome in its antiquity. The ceiling behind the bar was so low, the bartender had to duck her nut to serve the patrons. I had my first Stella Artois there. We talked with our neighbor at the bar, a retired pilot who flew Margaret Thatcher around. His daughter lived in the U.S. near Sigourney Weaver. King George came up in conversation again that week as we were driving past an enormous chalk hill drawing of a man on a horse. I asked cousin Charles "who's that?" He said, "that's the bloke that lost us the States."