From the mid 90s through to the mid 00s, the Fish Inn pub in Ringwood was my watering hole of choice. It’s an old pub, as you’d expect from the thatched roof. Behind the pub, out of view, is a petrol station that I worked in for many years. First as night man, later as manager. So the Fish Inn was conveniently located. I had three leaving parties there. I celebrated the new millennium there on December 31st 1999 – albeit technically a year early. And there were many post work drinks there too.
Back in the day, it was run by an old school pub landlord, a salt of the earth type chap. Every good pub needs one. He ran it with his wife and three kids. I would speak to him most days when he came over to buy his cigarettes. Two packs of Raffles 100s. I heard that he died a few years back. That’s a shame, I liked him. Whether the Raffles contributed to his end, I do not know.
It was a real pub that happened also to serve food. Where people would go for a drink. But might, particularly on an afternoon, order a meal. Sure, the roof leaked and there were more stains on the floor and furniture than…well, whatever. That’s what gave the place a lot of its charm. That’s how I liked it. These days, its all different. It’s been gentrified. The roof was re-thatched. The pub given a facelift. New furniture. And now it’s more restaurant that watering hole. But I still like the place. There’s many pleasant memories held within those walls.
One thing that never changes? The drama every time that there’s a lot of rain. The water in the river rises up and spills over into the car park. It edges nearer and nearer to the front door. I don’t think it’s made it all the way there yet. Not that I’ve seen. It will one day, I’m sure. But it looks safe at the moment.
The Fish Inn will be one of the places that does ok from April 12th, when outdoor hospitality resumes. They have a large garden and plenty of benches. It’s scenic too, don’t you think? The river winds its way through Ringwood, with the weeping trees springing to life. And then there’s the dual carriageway right next door, with cars, vans and lorries thundering past all day long. It’s best to enjoy the deceptively tranquil view as shown in my photo.
The Mexile 
I think that someday your will a really good blogger. This is meant to be a tongue-in-cheek remark in a humorous vein. But kidding aside, this is a well-done piece. It reminds me of a couple of pubs in the Dallas, Texas area used to go to. They were nothing like yours and they had little history to recall them by.
Rich
LikeLiked by 1 person
I feel fortunate to have many fond memories of various pubs from my time in the North in the 80 s and 90s. The food might be better, but the experience just isn’t quite the same.
LikeLike
From the north and on to Colorado is quite a jump! Do you have a Pegasus amongst your steeds?
Pub food used to be famously poor if we are going to be entirely honest. On that score, things have improved massively. But yeah, I rather miss the old fashioned drinking holes where you fetched pints from the bar and drank at your leisure. Rather than have waiters hovering, wanting to keep a high rate of table turnover.
LikeLike
Your post reminded me of a couple of village pubs that I visited some years ago when I traveled to my ancestral towns in Berkshire… delightful places, friendly staff, and good food too. At one of the pubs I found out by coincidence that my waitress had an ancestor who was a witness at my great-grandparents’ wedding!
LikeLike
That last point just goes to show what a small world this can sometimes be. Berkshire is nice. Mrs P wants us to move there. Our bank manager would laugh hysterically at the idea.
LikeLike