“We have left behind the era when many people almost automatically identified as Christian but other surveys consistently show how the same people still seek spiritual truth and wisdom and a set of values to live by.”
Archbishop of York
Totally out of touch!
Army recruiter - religion?
Me - atheist
Army recruiter - I’m not putting that down
Me - I don’t believe in god
Army recruiter - fuck off, the Queen is the head of the Church, you are CofE
A lot of people were C of E because they had been christened when they were a kid , or there was no relevant box to tick.
Maybe the C of E isn’t so bad after all?
Whereas the Pope appears to be a bit of a cunt.
Short answer: 100% yes.
Longer answer: We set out at noon with the intention of doing the ~3.5 mile hike across footpaths to Worth Matravers.
We finally got to the Square & Compass at 4pm having encountered an obstacle course worthy of the SAS due to the fact a great many field gates and stiles have been “designed” for people with small or no dogs, and not our tall, awkward, pigshit-thick lurchers, plus which a great many waymarkers have been removed - presumably by stroppy farmings.
Along the way I cut my way through overgrown hawthorns that left my right arm looking like I’d been mauled by a small, angry bear, lifted countless 5-bar gates off their hinges (and replaced them…) because they’d been padlocked shut, scrambled over several drystone-walls, wallowed through mires of limy clay, zig-zagged across empty field after empty field searching for an actual marked footpath, and eventually, not far from Dancing Ledge, failed - dismally - to face down some mardy Herefords with their half-grown calves in tow who took a strong dislike to the (on-lead) dogs, at which point we were less than a mile away from the pub!
We ended-up having to take an enormous detour almost back to the edge of fucking Swanage, and then, after several more impassibles, gave-up on the bastard footpaths and walked-up the main-sodding-road with Sam the closest to a murderous melt-down that I’ve ever seen her, especially when I realised what I thought was Worth was actually Acton - the extra mile or so wasn’t exactly welcomed… If I cease posting assume I’ve been smothered with a pillow…
The dogs of course fucking loved every minute of it. We covered a hair short of 11 miles, and Sam’s tartwatch reckons she’s done 83 floors worth of ‘stairs’, must admit I can feel I’ve had a stroll.
The Square & Compass is really worth a visit - the beer and cider is fucking excellent, real fires were lit, the pasties were utterly lush, and I had the first real Dorset apple cake I’ve had since my Nan died 24 years ago. It all comes out of a hole in the wall, and is evidently profoundly valued by the throng of rowdy locals packing the main room on a cold, misty November night.
I banged-back four pints of this beauty -
The single best-drinking porter I’ve ever had, bar none. Brewed in nearby Wimborne, the town my grandad grew-up in ~100 years ago.
It’s at least 20 years since I last visited the Square & Compass, and all that’s changed SFAICS is a fresh coat of paint and new plumbing in the bogs.
This is how a Real pub should be…
That’s great to hear. It would have been awful to undergo that kind of painful trek just to find that the place had been dragged straight through the 20th century & into the 21st acquiring plastic or spray on gastropub character en route.
I have similar memories of both foot- and bridle paths round there 5 years ago, and of the S & C. A great little pub, and it has some excellent music from time to time.
There are no league tables in cuntishness when it comes to religion.
That looks an utterly joyous pub. The only one I’ve really been to that was even close was The Lamb Inn, in Sandford, near Exeter.
Was saying to Sam last night how there’s precious few such pubs still left - but when there are, they’re usually busy and popular. It’s the template of perfection.
‘The Pub With No Name’ at Prior’s Dean used to be just as good, but it’s as long since I last went there, so it’s probably been either gentrified or turned into housing. The whole place was nicotine-brown from 250 years of smokers, there were no pub signs anywhere, and it was some way down a gravel track slap in the middle of largely featureless Hampshire downland, so pre-satnavs it was a real challenge just to find it.
Another that was the last of the proper ‘front-room’ pubs was the Fox & Hounds at Toy’s Hill, when it was run by the legendary Hazel, it was basically ancient overstuffed sofas, open fires, a choice of two bitters, and the only food was a cheese or egg bap. That got bought-out when Hazel died suddenly and gastro-pubbed… It has sat abandoned since 2019 because the new owner was a fucking idiot who couldn’t see why it used to be so popular…
That’s a bit spooky, my dad was telling me about that place not long ago.
The Bell at Aldworth is one of those. I can remember back in the 80’s being able to get beer brought through from the serving area (not really a bar) in jugs. Apparently the long-case clock in the corner of one of the rooms can’t be moved without first unscrewing the bench seat, which imprisons it, from the wall.
Good to see it’s still going 
The Crooked Billet in Stoke Row WAS such a “bar less” comfortable oasis until it was gentrified a decade ago. Gastropubbed to within an inch of it’s life.
It still has character, but is full of too many pairs of beige chinos, Rolex wearers, and collar up rugby tops.
The Robin Hood in Sutton used to be our work Friday lunch haunt, old style boozer and the Sutton United local. Unfortunately the latest reviews on google maps included one referencing a cocktail menu…
hahaha it hosted Kate Winslet’s wedding reception in 1997, branded a gastro pub in 1989 sounds like it’s been poncy for a very long time.
Now that you mention it, I’d lost track of time. I was comparing it to visits in the early 90s. I don’t remember any pub being referred to as Gastro in those days.
I hate growing old.
Beats the alternative.
Know what you mean, though. Today I “discovered” my little baby cousins are now all in their 50s… It’s been really nice renewing acquaintances with my family, and some of my old stamping-grounds, but also the passage of time is painfully evident, not least because nothing is how I remember it (even the stuff that hasn’t actually changed), and those still living are quite unrecognisable, except my uncle, who’s a kind of uncreepy Cliff Richard of the abstract art world.
… pretty certain that Evri / Herpes parcel isn’t coming now.
