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The plan had been to pop to the Kings Arms, a fabulously cosy pretty and authentic olde worlde pub, for a pint. Just a pint. But we left a meal and dessert heavier. 

Now I blame the Kings Arms for having such an appealing menu. We were looking for a bar snack at first, and then decided to just get a starter. Then we noticed desserts being delivered to one table and it just seemed unjust to be left out of the oohs and ahhs that ensued. Over the shoulder of my husband I saw some very pretty glasses of white wine (why oh, why does the shape of the wine glass pull me in so easily) so we had to have some of that too. 

None of which, as I wail on the scales the following morning pondering helium balloons as a solution, can say I truly regret. My prawns on sourdough were drenched in a garlicky herb dressing that soaked into the bread leading to a vastly superior version of a breakfast’s fried bread. The chips were actually nice, as opposed to being triple cooked to appease some strange menu regulator for which this odd food seems to have become a required punishment lately. The sliver of banana bread with peach parfait was um… y’know… peachy… but mostly not too sweet which meant that the highlight, the actual white wine that tasted truly good, such a rare achievement in a by the glass order at the pub, was still enjoyable along side the dessert. And good on the ol’ Kings Arms- I got the same glass as the people who had glasses with their bottles. A rare pleasure. 

Unlike many English pubs The Kings Arms shines in both bright summer, and as a cosy winter retreat. It is both cosy and light and clean. The small rooms, are adequately warmed by a roaring open fire in winter, and the interior is clean and happy even when it is a little early too . As we sat here, we chatted about how happy we were that the world has moved on since lasagne and chips at a pub.

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