The Dumb Bell

Arriving in London, I was met at the airport by my mother and told we were going out for a pub lunch and asked, did I mind?  To be honest, I couldn't think of anywhere else I would rather go.
On Sundays the Dumb Bell serves a full roast lunch with a selection of turkey, beef and ham, Yorkshire pudding and all the sides.  I loaded up my plate with extra stuffing and sausages, and sat down to eat with friends and family.  The pub's name comes from an old story that is written out in their menus.  It involves a man who was scheduled to be executed at the sound of the ringing of a bell.

His executioner waited for the sound, but it never came, and he was forced to let the prisoner go. Later it was discovered that the execution had been ordered, the bell rung; but no sound came from the bell. Hence the name, "Dumb (Silent) Bell". When investigated, they found a young maiden, who was in love with the man, had camped out all night inside the bell, holding the clapper, so that it would not make a sound. A sadly romantic story.
Before making this trip to England I realized that I haven't written about the country much. Since everything British is so familiar to me I tend to take it all for granted. But his time I was especially grateful for the chance to visit a traditional British pub.
All that is good about British pubs is characterized by the Prancing Pony in Lord of the Rings.  The poor hobbits show up at its door on a cold and rainy night, being chased by God-knows-what, and find a warm fire , food and a bed for the night. It becomes a place of refuge, catering for their most basic needs.
I can see you thinking that since England is so cold and rainy,  the pubs are your best option when traveling. But I have fond memories

of visiting pubs in spring and summer months.  We would take our food and drinks outside and sit in the gardens.  I don't think I would ever choose another restaurant if there was a pub nearby.
I heard that pubs in London are closing at a rate of one per week. They are having to reinvent themselves as dance halls or children's activity centers. Why have Londoners stopped going to pubs to simply take time off in a comfortable setting with friends, good food and drink? Has it become too familiar, and therefore forgotten?  What we don't appreciate disappears eventually.

We finished our meal and , very contentedly, made our way home. Before leaving the Dumb Bell, we  stopped to make a wish at the well in the garden.  This seemed appropriate somehow, probably because we were feeling happy and hopeful for the near future.  When your immediate needs have been met, it is easier to be optimistic when you are setting out again, rested and in good spirits.