Staff writer LYT's been visiting family in the UK all week, but he hasn't forgotten his OC pals. He writes:
Greetings from the land of overcast August skies and wonderful cask-aged warm beer! Been staying out in the Devon countryside for a family reunion, and having a grand old time playing with giant chess pieces, and adoring home-cooked meals. Also passing out copies of my OC Weekly cover -- yes, our paper is truly world-famous, as the blog-header claims. Or at least transatlantically famous.
The local pub near where we were staying was supposed to be the highlight of the trip. Essentially described to us as an oversized sitting-room that only serves one kind of beer, it sounded like the sort of quaint thing that's either awful or awesome. Well...
On the last day, I managed to persuade my uncle MIke to go with me, walking a mile and a half uphill in search of tasty beverages. Braving steep slopes, run-ins with cows, and the ever-present stinging nettles (think poison ivy, quicker healing but more hurting), we made it to the Luppitt Inn and found it locked. As we investigated the nasty toilet facilities around back, an old woman emerged. Note that it was around 6:30 p.m.
She: "I'm not open till seven, so it's no good 'angin' around!"
Okay. We backed off, and she went inside, but not before my uncle Mike took a closer look at the pub. At this point, the woman comes out again, looking really furious, and yells "Nor mind lookin' in the window neither! Clear off!"
Not a candidate for the "Best of Devonshire" issue of any local paper, let's just say.
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
Pictured: LYT's grandpa