The London Road Inn was a fantastic find coming off the run from Compton Bassett. Several interesting brews on the pumps, a middle-eastern landlady whose accent sounded more like a Russian spy from some Cold War era animated cartoon, and a group of punters that are genuinely fond of one another but, as one seemed to indicate, so bored with knowing everyone else’s business that a stranger willing to talk was made to feel quite welcome.
I had a Moles Elmo’s Fire, which was rich and smooth and hinted at some chocolate. A look around told me this was as quirky a venue as the inhabitants would lead you to believe…there was a back room that is a skittles hall (just move the chairs and tables away and let the other punters know the way to toilets involves a detour).
One story (there were several) involved the speaker spending an hour on the phone to his mobile provider’s call centre in India. He had explained to the person a detailed issue he was having with continuity and signal dropout to which the service person answered, “yes.”
“That’s what foreigners always say when they don’t understand you, isn’t it?”
Me and the landlady answered simultaneously, “yes.”
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