Moorhouse Inn
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| Pig & Whistle. |
Sunshine, but windy. To Scunthorpe after breakfast to the Pig and Whistle. We were very impressed. Like the Butcher's in Pudsey to look at, and in the market place, but with some daunting rough-looking flats hovering on the horizon. The couple there showed us the upstairs, and excellent flat and the lounge is 'us', you know Victorian flower pots and gilt framed portraits. The place had no tap room and in a very good position for lunchtime customers, who all seemed 'normal'. Lots of business types coming in for food. We sat outside because they did not approve of children, and ate fish and chips (again). Samuel is a fish and chips maniac and he sat in the driving seat peering above the wheel. From Scunthorpe, which is a much better place than I imagined, we went to Barton-upon-Humber, passing Normanby Park, home of the Sheffield baronets, of whom the pouting Davina is an off-shoot. (See journal 1976/77). She is now Mrs Jake Morley, but was almost Princess des Galles. Anyway, we passed over that fine erection, the Humber Bridge, to Howden in search of Jean and David (Watts), but failed to pin-point the actual street. We drove around like idiots after phoning and having no answer. Back at the Moorhouse we enthused abut the Pig & Whistle.
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