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Welcome to todays diary entry! Today turned out to be one of those unexpectedly lovely Sundays that sort of unfolds on its own – and ends with a plate full of roast potatoes and that familiar, creeping realisation that work starts again tomorrow. Gulp.
We woke up with a loose plan: head over to Blakemere early afternoon, settle in, and meet up with my brother and his wife for a proper Sunday roast. They happened to be in Northwich looking at a car, so we thought we’d make the most of it and go to one of our absolute favourite spots – The Vale Royal Abbey Arms.
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Now, let me be clear: this isn’t just any pub. This is the pub. We’ve been a few times before, and every single time, it’s been fantastic. The food there? Easily the best I’ve ever had in a pub. And trust me – I’ve eaten in a lot of pubs. Like, if there was a loyalty card scheme based on number of pies consumed, I’d be a platinum member.
But before the roast, there was the usual pre-week ritual: the Aldi dash. We needed to stock up on bits for the week – the usual suspects: toddler snacks, fruit that may or may not be eaten, and at least three different types of cheese for reasons that will never be fully explained. Aldi on a Sunday morning is its own special experience – slightly frantic, slightly chaotic, always involving at least one forgotten bag for life and a pack of pastries you didn’t plan to buy.
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We did our best to stick to schedule – we really did – but somehow still managed to arrive at the pub at 2:15pm, a fashionable 15 minutes late for our 2pm booking. Standard us. But thankfully, no one seemed to mind, and more importantly – the food did not disappoint. Again.
Honestly, it was just brilliant. Perfectly cooked meat, crispy roasties, proper gravy, veg that hadn’t been murdered into mush. Everything tasted like it had been made with care and love and an understanding that Sundays are sacred. I’m still thinking about the Yorkshire puddings. And I’m not one to wax lyrical about root vegetables, but even the parsnips were elite.
After we’d all eaten our weight in gravy, we made our way over to Blakemere and got ourselves pitched up. The weather was surprisingly nice – a bit of sun, a soft breeze, and that kind of warmth that makes you want to just sit outside and do nothing. We took one look at the awning and made a firm executive decision: not today. The sun canopy went out instead – quick, simple, and perfectly sufficient. Anything more than that just felt unnecessary. Sometimes, less is more – especially after a massive roast dinner.
And now, as I write this, with my belly still full and the campsite going quiet for the evening, there’s that familiar post-holiday dread beginning to creep in. I can’t believe I’m back at work tomorrow. It doesn’t feel real. Surely there’s been a mistake. Surely there’s another week? Another roast? Another slow morning in the motorhome?
Nope. Real life resumes in the morning. Alarm clock and all.
But for now, I’m holding on to the last bit of Sunday – full, content, sun-kissed, and still riding the high of the best pub roast around.
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