John and I went out on Saturday afternoon to do some planning. With notebook in hand, we drove to Raby and enjoyed a lovely pub lunch at the Wheatsheaf, definitely one of my favorite places on the Wirral. The pub is along a country road in a beautiful old farmhouse building with a thatched roof and thick wooden beams, a place seeping with character.
We sat near the stone fire at a wooden table among other patrons. I picture them all in cable knit sweaters though I know the couple across from us were buff and wearing instructor gear from The Underground training centre. A little boy with his dad and grandpa at the next table swept his finger across his dad's beer foam and licked it with a smile. Three pub pooches were gently slumbering under their respective tables. Dogs in pubs tend to be old, gentle and sweet. I think even our kids would be pleased to have them at their feet.
John went to order our drinks, and the bartender asked how Michael was enjoying his half-term break. It turns out that the bartender was Mr. __, the manager at St. Peter's Primary. He works at the pub on Saturdays and has been doing so for decades. I chatted with him briefly later and yesterday at school pickup. A nice man, clearly respected and looked up to by the kids at school.
We clearly aren't in America but instead in Postman Pat's village. We will have to bring Michael and Anna to the Wheatsheaf one Saturday to say hello and have some chips.
http://www.wheatsheaf-cowshed.co.uk/
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