Drop in for a small pinot
At the risk of making the maddening Disney song echo for hours in your head, it's a small world after all.
Last summer I wrote an item about a 64-square-foot former railroad signal box structure in Cleethorpes, England, that had earned the title of the world's smallest pub.
The other day I received an envelope containing a note, a letter and some photos. The note, from Frances Hynds of Delmar, NY, informed me she and her husband, Given, had met a couple from Cleethorpes while on a cruise and had struck up a continuing correspondence. "I sent your article, and I have enclosed their reply," she wrote.
The reply, from Mary Keeble, said in part: "I couldn't believe it when I read about the small bar in Cleethorpes. We went to look for it and found it. I thought I would take some photographs ... . The pub is a small signal box on the light railway that runs near our promenade. It is very good."
Thank you, Frances, and thank you, Mary.
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Posted by William M. Dowd at 5:26 PM