Ahhh, how good it is,  Springtime in Blighty; the mists (almost) vanished off the Mendip Hills, the lambs frolicking like they have a tomorrow, and the sunlight, the sunlight, gently dappled on the Inappropriately Dressed, bare-legged as they munch a Greggs sausage roll. Time, ladies and gentlemen, time, for a hasty retreat to the pub.

Now then, what mean we by ‘pub’? Brewery chain with 2-for-10 meals, swirly carpet and Kidz Zone Fun Menu? Gastropub with bleached pine tables, seared tuna and frightening brushed chrome light fittings in the loo? Blackboard-infested karaoke/quiz/Sky Sports/Abba tribute band/Tibetan yak pie nite gaff with 2 customers (one deceased).

No, my Lovelies, we mean The George. Even the name of it is as it should be. The George Inn at Croscombe, between Wells and Shepton Mallet, run with love and aplomb by Peter and Veryan Graham. Stone floor, incumbent dog, roaring fires, good beer, local people, big chunks of steak in a pie. THIS is where Tolkien would have sent Hobbits.

Just had a super evening there, where we presented a couple of our wines to some of Peter’s B&B-owning friends,along with Ed Hay from Mendip Bottle, who also presented some of his list. A glugging-good time had by all, I think.

Thanks then, to Peter, for being a model publican – friendly, rooted to the local place, people and produce, and safe…safe because, a publican who undertands that his customers want good, really good, food, beer and wine, in a chunky warm room with no muzak, (and a sleepy dog), is a publican who will still be pulling George the Thirst beer long after all the yaks are extinct.