Ale Around the A60

I doubt it's just me but the prospect of warmer weather, and longer days, always gives me a compelling urge to spend a lot more time outside. Last week, my most recent trip allowed me to do just that, as well as complete a route that had been on my radar for some time. Having needed time to figure out the logistics of what would be, for reasons that will be become clear, a physically challenging excursion, I felt that the longer days of Spring would provide the perfect opportunity to give it a go. The mission: to explore the villages and more specifically, the pubs, along and around the route of the A60, a carriageway and trunk road that links Nottingham and Loughborough. The reasons for selecting this, at first glance, random and arbitrary destination, are fairly straightforward. Amy and I drive this road fairly regularly when visiting family in Loughborough. On previous trips, I'd noticed that there were pubs along the route and further investigation revealed other villages, and other pubs, located a short distance either side of the main road. For the purposes of my needs, I would be focusing on the stretch of the A60 between the villages of Bunny and Hoton, and the villages scattered thereabouts, with the overall route forming a very rough quadrangle. 6 villages in total lay within my sights, with 7 pubs featured. I'd also taken time to figure out the best order in which to tackle the route and the best way in which to travel between them. The A60 is served by the Kinchbus 9 from Nottingham city centre and my plan would be to catch this and ride it to the furthest point in Hoton, before making my way back, on foot, through all the stops on my itinerary until I reached Bunny, which would be the climax. This would prove to be as physically taxing as I imagined but fulfilled both the goal of increasing my outdoor time, and the target of visiting the chosen pubs. Join me now, on a magical mystery tour of the Nottinghamshire/Leicestershire border. 

The day in question was last Friday, a warm but unsettled day in early May. My day began shortly after 10.15am. The easiest way for me to pick up the Kinchbus without having to journey into Nottingham first, was to pick it up in Ruddington, a 30-40 minute walk from Clifton. I arrived at the bus stop in plenty of time and, when the bus eventually arrived after being 10 minutes late, I was on my way. The bus conveyed me, quickly, through Ruddington and on through Bunny, Costock and Rempstone (more on all of these later) before arriving, after about 15-20 minutes, in the village of Hoton, where the day's adventures would truly begin. Hoton is a small village, not far from Loughborough, just south of the Nottinghamshire border. After the Norman conquest in 1300, together Robert De Jort and Earl Hugh owned the land. Hoton was sparsely populated with eleven households in the 1300s, nine in 1564. By the time the 1666 hearth tax list was drawn up there were nineteen. Hoton once consisted of three 400 acre patches of agricultural land, though due to the 1760 Enclosure Act more small fields were established and agricultural patterns changed. When Charles James Packe II brought the Hoton Manor house it led to the development of the area. An ale house, an inn and two girls boarding schools were built, as well as further farm buildings and cottages, leading to a further increase in population.

Despite this the census reports show a decline in population from 460 people in 94 houses in 1841, to 294 people in 78 houses by 1891.

Throughout the 1800s Hoton saw various changes that improved the parish. Care for the poor, maintenance of roads and facilities were all carried out by able bodied men in the area. Many old wooden built cottages were replaced by brick cottages, as well as given small allotments to give farmers extra growing space for personal use. Sanitation was improved as many toilets were now outside rather than within the home, preventing the spread of disease. Despite this as late as the 1880s cases of typhoid, diphtheria and ringworm we still being treated.

The name of the village, Hoton, was historically spelled Houghton.

On the side of the main road through the village, located just around a bend, is the Packe Arms.

Now operated by Mitchells and Butlers as part of their Village Inns estate, the Packe Arms was formerly known as the Marquis of Granby until local landowner Charles James Packe restored the pub in the 1800s. The pub is now named after the family and bears their coat of arms on the sign at the entrance to the car park. A large, white-washed building, it still retains period features and an aura of olde-worlde charm. Inside, the decor is a mix of exposed brickwork, wooden beams, flagstone floors, mullioned windows and older furniture, as well as old photos and artefacts displayed throughout. The single entrance leads through into a large room, divided up with the use of pillars and partition walls to create a few smaller sections. To the left is an area with a TV, scrubbed wooden tables and chairs and an open fire. The right leads to further seating areas with longer tables, usually reserved for dining and laid out accordingly. A rear corridor leads to the toilets. The single bar is long and located opposite the entrance. I'd been to the Packe Arms on a couple of occasions before, usually on the return journey from Loughborough, and always with Amy. This would be the first time I'd visited solo and this was also the only pub on the day's list that I had visited before. On the bar at the Packe Arms there are 5 handpulls. On the day of my visit, two of these were in use, both offering Sharp's Doom Bar. Reassuringly, two of the other pumps were adorned with pumpclips for Fuller's London Pride and Black Sheep Respire, accompanied by 'Coming Soon' pennants, at least suggesting that further beers would be available later in the day or over the weekend. With my options limited to Doom Bar, I consented myself with that and moved to a high table just inside the door, in view of the TV screen which was showing news updates of both the local election results and preparations for the King's coronation. Knowing that the Tories were getting a deserved pounding put me in even more of a good mood. The Doom Bar was very well kept and went down well, although, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, the quality of Doom Bar has declined, in my opinion, since brewing shifted to Molson Coors. Still, there were much worse ways to begin my day and the proper hard work was about to begin as I left the Packe Arms and began my wanderings to the next location. 

I'd made an effort to do plenty of research, and consulted Google Maps several times, before the day had arrived so that I knew exactly the quickest way to walk between villages and roughly how long it would take to get to each one. Turning left out of the Packe Arms car park, I was immediately back on the A60. I followed this for approximately 20-25 minutes, crossing back into Nottinghamshire, with the road on my right and open fields on my left, until I reached a set of traffic light controlled crossroads, with a guesthouse on the corner. Crossing over, I turned right at the traffic lights, which brought me to the start of the next village. I had now reached Rempstone. The village is situated at the junction of the A60 and the A6006 and is mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086. Walking down the main street, past some very large and very lovely houses, I followed the road as it curved to the left before opening out onto a small green. Adjacent to this, opposite the location previously occupied by a Manor House, is the White Lion.

A public house since at least 1855, when W. Walkington was the listed publican, the White Lion has been owned by local residents since 2016 when it reopened after a cosmetic refurbishment. Listed as an Asset of Community Value since 2015, its historic interior is classified by CAMRA as having regional importance. Inside, there is a single room, combined from two previously much smaller rooms. The bar is located on the left from the single main entrance, with the former snug area on the right. The interior has retained the beams from a post-war refurbishment, as well as two fireplaces, one at each end, which were added in the late 1950s/early 1960s. The small bar counter is at least 50 years old and features plain wooden bar shelves and a tiled floor. A modern extension has been added to the rear which contains the original toilets, previously located outside, as well as a pool table and a dartboard. Live bands perform in this space on a regular basis. The pub was also a previous entrant in the Good Beer Guide, having featured in the 2022 edition. I walked in to the sound of wood crackling on an open fire, spotted the bank of 4 hand pumps on the bar, and immediately felt at home. The one other customer, an older gentleman sat in the snug, instructed me to ring the bell on the bar top for service. I did so and a very friendly lady appeared to take my order. The short delay had given me time to peruse my options. 3 of the handpulls were in use, with the choice between Bass, Charnwood Vixen and Shipstone's Original. I still had fond memories of Charnwood Vixen from my last experience with it so the choice here was a no-brainer. I retreated to a small table inside one of the front windows to fully immerse myself in my surroundings. This is a cracking little pub which had been well worth the walk from Hoton. The walls are decorated with photos of the local area, including from the mid-1990s when the village suffered severe flooding, with water knee deep outside the pub. This is a very comforting and welcoming place to spend some time with a superb pint and, certainly in my case, to break up a journey. I had a lot more exploring, and a lot more walking, to do before the day was out. 

Bidding a sad goodbye to the White Lion, I headed out the door and turned left. The next leg of my journey would take me down the A6006 to the village of Wymeswold, back in Leicestershire. This meant effectively walking in a straight line out of Rempstone and along the main carriageway. This came with an added level of difficulty. There are no footpaths per se along the A6006 but there are low cut verges along the edges of the road that make it accessible for walkers. This was to be my route to Wymeswold and so I pressed on. I mentioned early on that the day was largely unsettled but warm. At this stage, there had been no rain and the sun was out. With temperatures around the mid-high teens, the 45 minute walk to the next village had certainly built up quite the sweat and quite the thirst. When the grass verge finally became pavement again, I had reached Wymeswold and was only yards from the next pub, the first of two in this location. Historically, Wymeswold is best remembered for the site of a former airbase, RAF Wymeswold, scene of a fatal air crash in 1943 when a Wellington bomber on a night training exercise crashed on a hillside, killing six crew. A seventh died of his injuries three days later, leaving the rear gunner as the sole survivor. A memorial commemorating the accident can be seen on the wall of the local pharmacy. Additionally, the local church of St. Mary's, restored in 1844, contains one of the country's best collections of headstones carved from Swithland slate, an industry for which Wymeswold was formerly a centre. As I entered the village, the sun was well and truly beaming down and my whistle needed to be thoroughly wetted. Luckily, I soon stumbled upon the next pub, the Three Crowns. 

Built in the late 18th century, the Three Crowns stands opposite the aforementioned church, parallel with the main road through the village. Inside, the interior is relatively large. The island bar is opposite the front door with seating located in split off areas to the left and right. An open space behind the bar leads to a split-level snug/lounge area as well as a rear door that provides access to the toilets and a well-appointed beer garden. The right hand room from the bar is a larger space with tables for dining and a smaller, snug area is located to the left. The pub features old photos of the local area throughout. On the bar are 3 handpulls and I was very glad to see them after my walk. A duo of these proffered goodies though, in the shape of Timothy Taylor Landlord and Draught Bass. I felt that I needed something refreshing and revitalising and this came in the shape of Bass. I made my way into the small snug to the left of the entrance to get my breath back and fill my body with delicious nectar. And delicious it was. I don't drink Bass nearly enough and that's a mistake that I really do need to begin to rectify. Kept properly and served well, it's a genuine delight. I got the impression from my brief time here, that this is very much a community pub, as befits any good village hostelry. Indeed, all the pubs I would visit on the day certainly seemed to demonstrate a spirit of community and supporting the local area. The Three Crowns had numerous adverts for local events displayed on a cork board and the clientele seemed to be primarily locals, as well as a couple of builders who had nipped in for a quick one on their lunch. 

I felt revived after my time here and, fortunately, another pub lay not far away. Leaving the Three Crowns, I crossed the road and made my way down a road opposite, overlooked by the church. Reaching the end of the road, where a small village green is located on a traffic island, I turned left onto Brook Street and continued until I saw a pub sign swinging a few yards away. It turns out that Brook Street is no misnomer. A literal watercourse runs down the middle street with concrete pedestrian bridges crossing it at regular intervals. This brook is the venue for the annual local duck race, scheduled to take place on the upcoming weekend. I even spotted a couple of real life competitors basking in the afternoon sun. The reason for my time on Brook Street was now nearby, at The Windmill Inn. 

This delightful gastropub is the sister venue to the Curzon Arms at Woodhouse Eaves. Inside, the Windmill is very atmospheric. An island bar serves two sides of a large room. The right hand side is more suited to dining with the left being available for both drinkers and those after a bite of the fantastic looking and smelling food. The decor is quirky, with dimmed lighting, bric-a-brac, a mix of furniture and a faux bookcase to one side decorated with bundles of ribbon-tied books. Antlers and small animal skulls adorn the wall above one of the front windows. Plaques of local place names can be found on various walls. This is a very homely feeling pub and completely not what I was expecting to find! There are 3 handpulls on the bar here and 2 of these were in use when I was there. My options were between Charnwood Vixen and Dancing Duck Ay Up. Having already partaken of the Vixen, I chose the Ay Up this time and I was very glad that I did. I enjoyed my beer immensely as I sat at a high table opposite the bar and soaked up the atmosphere. I enjoyed it even more when the heavens opened and a heavy spring shower came down for 5-10 minutes whilst myself, and everyone else, stayed dry and watched from the windows. Luck had definitely been on my side weather-wise so far! I'd lucked out visiting the Windmill too. I totally didn't expect the pub to be this unique and interesting. It certainly qualifies as a hidden gem and I would absolutely recommend visiting, though be aware that the pub operates split opening hours Monday-Friday so is closed between 3-5pm.

Beer drunk and rain abated, it was onwards. The next leg of the journey would, time-wise, be the most walking I would do between pubs. Time for some fortifying lunch as I got my bearings and headed off. Retracing my steps to the church, I took a right and continued along the main A6006 for a few yards until I found Wysall Lane on my left. I took Wysall Lane, primarily a country track between Wymeswold and my next destination, the neighbouring village of Wysall, back over into Nottinghamshire. As the early stages of Wysall Lane aren't suitable for walking I made use of a public footpath that took me off the main road and through some fields that run adjacent to it. I wasn't fazed at having to go a little bit off the beaten track. I enjoy being in the countryside and the public footpath was well signed. After crossing a field that contained a particularly disinterested looking horse, the path split. I could go left, through a field that contained both sheep and lambs, or continue on, through a completely empty pasture. Though there may come a day when I am forced to battle an ovine adversary to prove my worth, it was not to be this day and so I chose the empty field instead. I crossed this, climbed a stile and emerged on a paved footpath, where I turned left. This joined back up with Wysall Lane, at this point designated a public byway, thereby meaning it can be used by drivers, cyclists, horse riders and pedestrians. Turning right, I continued on what is essentially a straight line into Wysall. All-in-all, my walk to Wysall took around 50-55 minutes, made slightly more challenging by the fact that I was walking directly into the sun which had now decided to reappear from behind the clouds. Despite the length of time it ultimately took, I was very much enjoying being outside. I could almost feel the endorphins. Soon enough, the sign for Wysall hove into view and the pavement reappeared. I emerged in the village centre, in the shadow of the Norman church with its 13th century tower. Wysall is one of the rare Thankful Villages, a village that suffered no fatalities during the Great War of 1914-1918. I was feeling thankful too, though for a much less significant reason. Turning right upon my entrance to the village, I followed Main Street on for a few more yards until I saw it. Next up, The Plough.

Recorded as a public house in 1855, the Plough has been in existence for more than 150 years and run by the same family for the last 14. At the heart of what is a pleasant village, the pub retains several period features and a lot of traditional character. The pub is elevated above the road and so is accessed up a flight of steps. An attractive beer garden at the front leads to the entrance which, in turn, leads through into the bar. A large main room is served by a long bar. There is seating opposite and in rooms to either side, in the form of traditional scrubbed wooden tables and chairs. A TV  is mounted on the wall in a small section to the right of the bar and there is a separate area for pool. The interior is modestly decorated but retains a pleasant ambience and comfortable feel. On the bar, there are 8 hand pumps, split into two groups of 4. A number of the choices here are doubled up across two pumps. Greene King IPA, Black Sheep Best and Timothy Taylor Landlord were occupying 6 of the pumps, with the remaining two offering Bass and Greene King Abbot Ale. It had been a long but pleasurable walk so I thought I would slake my thirst with Landlord and enjoy it under the cover of a parasol in the Plough's excellent beer garden. This proved to be an excellent idea. The Landlord was in great condition, the garden furniture, round tables and rattan chairs, was comfortable and the beer garden decor is interesting. During my time there, I spotted an old black and white bus stop sign, a traditional red phone box tucked into the foliage, an old tin sign for Scottish cigarettes, and the pub's namesake piece of farming equipment suspended above the door. There were likely more things that I didn't spot. I did spot the Union flag bunting draped along the the railings though. In fact, and unsurprisingly given the date, every pub I visited was decorated for the Coronation to a greater or lesser extent. My visit to the Plough had been worth it. I'd heard good things about it for years so the chance to finally go and see it for myself wasn't one I was going to pass up. I was just getting myself together to continue the journey when the weather turned again. The sun, which had been beaming down, was replaced by a torrential downpour. Luckily, I was well protected by the parasol so decided to wait things out for the torrent to subside enough that I could make a break for it. A few minutes later, it calmed down and so I ducked out into what was now a light drizzle, and continued on my way.

I had a 45 minute walk lined up, which would ultimately bring me back to the A60 and to the final pair of pubs on the trip. Leaving the Plough, I retraced my steps but continued straight on, past the entrance of Wysall Lane, following the road round. Reaching the end of Main Street, I turned right onto Costock Road which then curves to the left as it leaves Wysall, opening out onto a carriageway through open countryside. This would prove to be, whilst not the longest, the most difficult part of the walk. The journey down Costock Road would involve walking primarily along overgrown grass verges, which had now been soaked by the afternoon rain. Whilst the rain had now stopped, the sky was overcast and more rain threatened. Shortly after leaving Wysall, I spotted a public footpath sign pointing me across a nearby field. However, it appeared that this would take me a long way in the wrong direction before circling back and so I resolved to push on. The threatened rain didn't properly materialise and so I managed to stay largely dry, at least from the shins up. By the time I found myself back on substantial ground, my ankles and feet were soaked. Undeterred though, I carried on. I knew I wasn't far away. I could see traffic on the A60 as I rounded one final bend. I'd made it back to the main road from where my journey had deliberately deviated. More than that, I had arrived in the village of Costock. Straddling the main road, Costock is known for its 14th century church of St. Giles, the nearby Holy Cross convent at Highfields, and for being mentioned (as Castol), rather unflatteringly, in the diary of the 18th century German traveller K.P. Moritz. Crossing over the A60 via a nearby pedestrian crossing, I made my way into the village proper where I was greeted by the imposing site of The Generous Briton.

This large, three storey, brick building was originally a Holes of Newark pub and was listed as an Asset of Community Value in January 2016, though this protection expired in 2021. The Generous Briton underwent an extensive renovation in 2018 and the pub recently changed hands after the previous tenants stepped aside due to mounting costs. Inside, the layout is one open-plan room separated by pillars. Wooden floors and comfortable seating add a contemporary feel. My arrival here coincided with early evening and a small number of locals were already in situ with more arriving during my stay. This pub has the feel of a real community hub, a necessity in a village devoid of shops. One bar sits at the back of the room and this is equipped with 3 handpulls. All of these were being utilised giving me a trio of tipples to choose from. I was required to select from Wainwright, Banks's Amber and Marston's Pedigree. I decided that the Pedigree would be the chosen one and took my beer to a table on the far side of the room to enjoy it. It was clear that my initial assertions were correct. The frequency with which people were entering the pub confirmed that this is a significant place in the lives of the village residents. It's heartening to see a pub taking on such a substantial role in such a difficult time for, not just the industry, but the country as a whole. Plus, they do a decent pint of Pedigree. 

My journey was almost done but I had one destination left to visit. A further 2 and a bit miles of walking would take me to the last pub of the day and, pleasingly, the entire route would be on pavement. Leaving the Generous Briton, I crossed back over the road and began the walk north, along the pavement that runs alongside this stretch of the A60. The weather was in a more agreeable mood now. The clouds had temporarily vanished, replaced by spring sunshine. I made my way down Loughborough Road, up and over Bunny Hill, stopping to look at some sheep along the way. Shortly after, the road levelled out and I was approaching the last village on my afternoon tour: Bunny. The place-name 'Bunny' is first attested in the Domesday Book of 1086, where it appears as Bonei. It appears in Episcopal Registers as Buneya in 1227. The name means either 'reed island' or 'island on the river Bune'.

There has been a settlement on the site since pre-Norman times, perhaps as far back as the days of the Roman Empire. The parish Church of St Mary is 14th century. The most significant building in the village is Bunny Hall, probably built in the 1570s and occupied by the Parkyns family for three hundred years. Sir Thomas Parkyns, 2nd Baronet (1662–1741), known as the Wrestling Baronet, built what is now the north wing to his own design circa 1723–25. He also built the school and almshouses. Thomas Parkyns was a devotee of wrestling and organised an annual wrestling match in Bunny Park (prize a gold-laced hat). These matches continued until 1810. His book on the subject The Inn-Play: or, the Cornish Hugg-Wrestler was published in 1713 and reprinted many times.

The following is an excerpt from a description of Bunny as published in 1813:

Bunny, a straggling village on the high road, containing about sixty houses, and which seems to have been indebted principally for its origin to the ancient seat of Bunny Park Hall, once the property of the family of Parkyns, and now of their descendant Lord Rancliffe. This family have indeed been great benefactors factors to the village, as it contains a good school house and hospital, the former being close to the church yard gate and erected in 1700 for the poor children of Bunny and Bradmore; and the latter having four rooms for four poor widows, and endowed by Dame Anne Parkyns.

The Hall was sold circa 1990, but remained unoccupied and had become semi-derelict by 2005. It was occupied and under restoration in 2006. A small section of the grounds now houses a new group of luxury homes.

In the middle of this historic village, sits the Rancliffe Arms. 

Dating from the 16th century, the Rancliffe Arms began life as a coaching inn. Subsequent additions in the 17th and 18th centuries, along with 20th century alterations have given the building its current facade. Original features still remain, some of which were unearthed after an extensive refurbishment in 2006, including exposed beams and an original fireplace. Now Grade II listed, the pub is classy but homely. The entrance to the pub is hidden from the main road and accessed across the car park. The large bar runs along one wall with a carpeted dining area beyond. Immediately adjacent to the entrance is the lounge bar area, with wooden floors, primarily used for drinking. A decking area for outside drinking is located to the side of the pub. A brick structure in the car park is the remains of an old dovecote, sadly no longer in use. The Rancliffe Arms is a pub that I've passed many times but never actually managed to make it inside. Now was finally the time. The bar contains 4 handpulls, across two banks of 2, 3 of which were available when my aching feet carried me through the door. My options were Wainwright, Marston's Pedigree and Bombardier. It had been quite some time since I'd had Bombardier in any form so the time seemed right to buck that trend. A word of guidance: there's a £5 minimum spend on card payment but I didn't begrudge stretching myself to a packet of crisps as an additional purchase. I plonked myself down on a sofa in the lounge area, next to the entrance and reflected upon how far I'd come. I'd thoroughly earned my pint of Bombardier which was just as well as it turned out to be great! It had been an enjoyable and successful day, if not long and tiring but I had one final task; to figure out how best to get home. I reasoned that it was unlikely I'd have finished my pint before the next bus and as they're once an hour, this seemed out of the question. Alternatively I could walk from Bunny back to Clifton. From personal experience, I know that this takes at least an hour and a half. Either way, even if I got the bus, I would still have to walk from Ruddington. In the end, I needn't have worried. Because Amy is an amazing wife, she came to pick me up as she'd not long got home from work.

 
And with that, and the prospect of no further walking, my day was done. What were my prominent thoughts and feelings? My main feeling was one of accomplishment. I'd completed my mission, albeit perhaps not in the most logical or sensible way possible. I was proud of myself for sticking with my plan and for the research and work that had gone into it. Most of all though, was a sense of relief. Relief that village pubs are still going, in an environment where far too many pubs are closing on a daily basis. I've waxed lyrical about my appreciation and love for village pubs many times down the years. For me village pubs should always be about serving a community. They're a safe space, a good space and a space that, sadly all too often, comes under threat from circumstances out of our control. They should be respected, enjoyed and saved. Communities need them, pubs need their communities and, now more than ever, the spirit of togetherness and of local pride, needs to shine through. It might not be everyone's cup of tea but, if you could offer me a village pub, with an open fire, a cracking pint and where everybody knows your name, you can 100% count me in. 

Pub of the day: The White Lion, Rempstone. A cracking little local pub with a cosy welcome.

Beer of the day: The Draught Bass at the Three Crowns in Wymeswold was absolutely fantastic.

Biggest surprise: The Windmill, Wymeswold. A hidden gem. Well worth seeking out.