I'm not a local. I call the pub that I visited today by the name outside on it's shingle, The Wheatsheaf. Apparently the locals call it The Thatch, and indeed it was recently rethatched. But roofing material aside, it was for the beer that I was here, or rather, there. A quick glass of Trapper's Hat, and an open coal fire, was a great cure for the increasingly greying sky outside.