The Dragon has gone, long live The George

After an hour-long slog up the beach and back from Clymping to Elmer Sands walking on shingle, I was fairly sure that The Nice Lady Decorator would crack and require a pint and some lunch, but for a time, like our walk, there was a lot of stony ground with which to contend.

Taking in another high tide is best done by going to the beach, which we did in late morning, in a short window of half decent weather. Blowing a bit, both the wind and myself, we had arrived back at the car, and I suggested that we go back to Arundel to watch the Waterside Cafe become a little too waterside for its own good again. It was closed, probable because the water from the River Arun had once again spread across its terrace. If the place was mine, and I knew a high tide was coming, I would have treated it as an event and made it into a wellie party or something, but I guess the thought police, who inhabit that peculiarly ridiculous killjoy health and safety area of society, would have had something to say about that. Obviously on the one hand, if one tries really hard, one can drown in 3 inches of water that is in evidence for about an hour 4 times a year, but on the other hand, one could also be hit by a meteorite at any time, so perhaps we should all live in caves?, but, not for the first or last time, I digress.

High tide at Clymping

Perhaps it was the water making her thirsty, but she relented and suggested we walk to The George at Burpham, for a pint and a bite to eat, a suggestion I welcomed (after a suitable period of fake hand wringing angst, aimed at underlining my barely existing commitment to lose some weight, and at the same time mumbling about some work I had to do, later safely completed, to welcome a new customer to the services of Currencies Direct. Maurice, you know it makes sense). However, that English weather had the last say, and with it closing in again, we decided to drive, so all good.

This lovely pub has recently been refurbished inside with far more sympathetic furniture than hitherto was the case. It has recently be taken over by the local villagers in some kind of cooperative, and describes itself as “of the locals, by the locals, for the locals” which is all well and good except paradoxically, it is closed this Saturday for a wedding. Perhaps all the locals, except myself and That Nice Decorating local, have been invited? Anyway,  the pub is much improved inside, perhaps benefiting from the release of the Dragon’s influence from when it was called The George And Dragon? Anyway, initially slightly underwhelmed by the menu, with rather too many pastry dishes, pies and the like, and with the only fish other than broth arriving in batter, I settled on the baby ribs, just to keep my red meat-eating nesting credentials and quota up to the minimum required for continued good health. After all, who wants, to look like or witter on like Morrissey? and it was very good. That Nice Lady Decorator also expressed praise for her chicken breast stuffed with mushroom on a bed of curly kale, and with a pint of Arundel Sussex Gold on board and a glass of a very good Italian wine to the good, The George, with bar manager, Nearly Hairless Nick working hard to please, the George has elevated itself in the local pub/restaurant stakes, as dictated by That Nice Lady Decorator.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News