Fylde Coast Biker’s pub. Couple of fellas outside the entrance, smoking. Inside it was a dark, low ceilinged establishment; I spotted a chalk board offering “Biker’s Bacon Barms, £1.50”. I wanted to eat there.
The main bar area was packed. A mix of middle aged men seated on stools at the bar, couples and children mingled with groups of over made up single women. We ventured round the corner to the seating area and found a corner table. At the table next to us, a couple; the boyfriend attracted my attention as he stood up. He was about 6 foot 5 and looked as though he worked out. He had a tight T shirt on, not that I was looking much. I could see toned biceps. Tight-ish jeans. Again, I just had a fleeting glimpse.
My staring was interrupted by the sound of muscle man knocking a full pint glass over. The menu was extensive including home cooked pies, roast dinners, meat curries (Chinese and Indian), vegetable curry, lasagne and chillies. I was absolutely starving and set my heart on the steak and ale pie, with chips. Danny opted for a veggie curry. I went to the bar; ordered and paid for the food and I was handed a wooden spoon and told to put this in the empty wine bottle on the table. So it wasn’t for a candle then. Me and Danny talked sweet nothings and held hands. Jean Claude Van Damme of the Fylde Coast knocked another drink over. I heard stifled giggles.
Our food was totally amazing. The pastry on my steak and ale pie had a crispy saltiness to it. The chips actually came from a potato (not a bag from the freezer). I was presented with a separate dish of vegetables; carrots, green beans and leeks in a thin white sauce. There was enough veg for 2 but I polished the lot off. There was little talking between me and Danny as we were too interested in our respective meals. Plates cleaned, tummies full we pondered the dessert menu. I settled for a trio of ice-cream whilst Danny plumped for bread and butter pudding, with custard. I trotted off to the bar. The muscle bound drink dropper was also at the bar, holding a wooden spoon.
My ice-cream was in a tall glass, layered with cream. I detected crunchy bits in the vanilla layer, which was possibly ice, but I didn’t object to it. All of the above, including a couple of soft drinks for just over a tenner. The next day, my sister, a regular at The Bourne, told me that she and her husband always dine in the separate dining room (which we hadn’t noticed). They usually have a curry each, half chips, half rice and sit at a big table in front of an exceptionally large bay window which overlooks the beach. My sister booked a table there for us later in the week. For our return visit we indeed parked at the big table in front of the big window. The tables and chairs were made of metal and wicker. The room was stark and felt removed from the pub atmosphere next door. Next to us, a 40th birthday party. Our food was just as gorgeous (I had roast beef, Yorkshire pudding) but I preferred our windowless table in the corner of the pub’s side room. The people seemed more interesting there too.
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