Well I never.

When we left home for the festival we hadn't bothered to arrange anywhere to camp on the way back, maybe Mike thought it would be easier going downhill. After the journey up, and the length of time it took, we decided on Bank Holiday Monday that we ought to find somewhere to camp half way again. Luckily we had picked up a leaflet to the farm we stayed at the previous week. Tentatively we rang the number, hoping everyone was leaving now that the weekend was nearly over. Phew, they had spaces and so we set off once more for Ormskirk.

It turned out to be an excellent decision. We arrived back at the farm just after six at after quickly putting up "Connie" set off for the local pub, The Martin Arms for a bite to eat. Unfortunately we forgot we weren't in Birmingham, where the pubs serve until 9 and when we walked in at 7:10 we were told the kitchen shut at seven. Very kindly they told us that the pub by the canal might still be serving, so we hot footed it up the road. 

The Farmer's Arms was just the other side of the bridge over the canal. We had spotted it the previous week, but on that occasion the bridge was stuck open (or is that closed?) and we couldn't get across. By now we were starving and walked in with our fingers firmly crossed. It turned out the kitchen didn't shut until eight so we had time to buy a drink and have a quick look at the specials board.

The food was absolutely fabulous, far better than anything we would normally be served in a pub. I had chicken and ham tagliatelle and Mike had rump steak with Lancashire black pudding in a creamy mustard and mushroom sauce. They must have used a pint of cream between us. If you are ever in the area you really must go and try their wonderful fare.
The Farmer's Arms