Sign o’ the times

I have often attributed my perhaps occasionally undue appreciation for the products of fermented barley malt & hops to the fact that in 1930 my Father was born in a room above a pub to the Landlady of the Morning Star in Datchet. Recently a cousin sent me the results of some genealogical research she had been doing which revealed that the pub was in the hands of the Skeltons, my forebears, for fifty years.

I only ever had two opportunities to drink in there twice, and never with Dad. The last time would have been four or five years ago, and it looked like it hadn’t changed since the 1930’s. Skittle alley, rough hewn brick bar, old floorboards.

So I was with no little dismay that as I drove through Datchet yesterday to discover that it had now become part of a large chain of frothy milk and insipid coffee retailers.