Warm Bread.

In 1967, I and two fellow fraternity brothers from the University of California, Santa Barbara, were driving a very-used, newly-bought red Bedford mail truck from London to Scotland on the M-6. It was a Saturday evening in June and the skies just let loose with a torrential downpour. We got off the motorway and found ourselves entering a place called Bourton-In-Kendall and our headlights picked up the swaying and inviting sign of The King's Arms. For the next five or hours, we met a collection of wonderful people, sharing a pint or five, and ended the evening with cheers and hugs and tears. The following day, Nick and Sheila Almond bid us farewell and we departed this lovely little town. Four years later, having just returned from Viet Nam and now married, I took my new bride to England, then planned a visit to The King's Arms for a Saturday night in June. Everyone was still there (perhaps they never left?), same seats, same hearty grins and warm hand shakes, another unforgettable evening. We said goodbye to Nick and Sheila and promised we'd return. In my mind, I return often, to the magical memories in this friendly little town.

Michael West
Laguna Beach, California

The Royal has now closed, but you can look through the windows and see the old rooms. The Kings is still there, but I seem to remember a third pub in Burton near the Royal. My Mum remembers the bakers.