Wheatsheaf Inn, Raby

We went to the Wirrall to find another pub which we had visited several years ago. We only remembered that it was on the Dee Estuary. This proved elusive. But we had a short walk along the shore where the in-house editor recited the poem about Mary who had to go to call the cattle home across the sands of Dee in bad weather and came to a soggy, sticky end. There were no sands on view today however. Perhaps further out across the bog. Best not to risk it.

Then following the recommendation of my Welsh class the previous evening, we went inland to Raby to this picturesque thatched pub which was surprisingly busy with diners for a Tuesday lunchtime. There are whitewashed walls, black beams, flagged floors, eight draught ales and open fires inside. According to the Good Beer Guide it is celebrating 400 years since being rebuilt following a fire. (It reminded me of my first house in Devon, which we had to leave following a fire in its thatched roof when I was two.) I had a good braised veal shin washed down with Brimstage Trappers Hat and the IHE her usual paté and glass of pink.