Just outside of Cambridge is a little village called Grantchester, made famous to many by the Pink Floyd song Grantchester Meadows. A few months ago I paid it a visit!
As it happens I have a friend from Grantchester named Georgia, but coincidentally enough the same week that I flew from Vancouver to London, she did the opposite! I did message her when I was in Cambridge and inquired if she had any friends who might want to meet up for a pint, but alas no one was about, so the best she could do was recommend me a few spots to check out.
So there I was, wheeling about the outskirts of Cambridge on my explore-a-pelg mission, when I came across the village of Barton. Undoubtedly the ancestral home of one Howie Barton’s forebears. Hmmm…
So anyways, I cycled all the way to Grantchester, where I checked out a couple of the nicest looking pubs in the village; The Green Man, recommended by Georgia, and The Blue Ball, recommended by cousin Rick.
The Green Man has a lovely interior, but apparently I was too busy soaking up the atmosphere and my pint to bother taking any photographs. Hurrah for properly enjoying the moment! Afterwards I went to The Blue Ball.
Woodforde’s Wherry by Broadland Brewery at The Blue Ball
Appearance: honey, little head, 3.8%
Nose: faint toffee and grains
Palate: beautiful balance, soft, smooth
Finish: sweet mint, followed by hops and spice
Overall: a superbe little ale, makes me happy
Rating: 4/5 Excellent
After leaving The Blue Ball, I decided it was time for a ramble on the famous meadows. Unfortunately I was also craving a cigarette, and so I made a quick stop outside The Green Man, where I found a great many men partaking in the joyous art of smoking a fag. I managed to acquire rolling paper and some baccy from a young man, who happened to know Georgia’s brother, but then immediately found myself dragged into such a long conversation with one fellow of considerable age, that by the time I left, it was too dark to explore the meadows. Moral of the story? Don’t smoke!
I returned to the home of my dad’s cousin through fields and over wooded hills, where I felt like Mr. Chumbles of Kag Mek as he rode his Growler-Mooshaw into the Thistled Wood of Glyndar.
The next day I finally made it to the Grantchester meadows, this time approaching on foot from the Cambridge side with Rick, where we walked all the way to Byron’s Pool and back.