February 2026. Hull. Mrs RM was away in Rome with mystery chum, leaving me to fend for myself in Sheffield. Middle age (59 to 99) is supposed to see you settle down to home comforts, isn’t it ? But by Sunday lunchtime I was itching to get out. Half an hour walk down to Sheffield… Continue reading AIN’T HULL LOVELY ?
CLAYTON HALL, AND A NIGHT OF MAGIC AT THE ETIHAD
February 2026. East Manchester. From Timperley, a tram back to Manchester interrupted by the racists in Piccadilly Gardens, and an hour in the Art Gallery, before continuing on the metro to Clayton Hall. Just beyond the Etihad stop, not many folk get off at Clayton Hall, but I had two hours before kick-off and it’s… Continue reading CLAYTON HALL, AND A NIGHT OF MAGIC AT THE ETIHAD
STUBBORN TICKING
February 2026. Timperley. Greater Manchester. At Sunday School we used to sing “Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam“. No, not the Wolverhampton pub serving 9am pints of Abbot, Paul. I guess I’ve maintained that positive outlook on life, finding the best in everyone and everything. Even Maidenhead. But that relentless positivity is occasionally tested by… Continue reading STUBBORN TICKING
TO BE FRANK, TIMPERLEY IS A CURATE’S EGG
February 2026. Timperley. Greater Manchester. On Saturday I dropped Mrs RM off at Manchester Airport after an exciting trip through Wynatt’s Pass and less absorbing trek along the A555, which let me tell you in no A57. Mrs RM was off on another planet-killing trip with a very famous pub blogger, but it wasn’t me… Continue reading TO BE FRANK, TIMPERLEY IS A CURATE’S EGG
RETIRED MARTIN MEETS ROCKIN’ RICH
February 2026. Sheffield. One of the best things about retirement, and goodness knows it’s been epic, has been getting to meet nice people over a pint in comfy pubs. And so it was that I finally met one of the many nice guys from Yorkshire, Rockin Rich(ard) Clark from Harrogate. He’d been trying to arrange… Continue reading RETIRED MARTIN MEETS ROCKIN’ RICH
WHEN A PROBLEM COMES ALONG, YOU MUST WHIPPET
With apologies to Devo. February 2026. Lichfield. My third GBG pub ticked before five, I actually felt wiped out as a night in Lichfield lay before me. Young BRAPA really needs to finish the Guide before he hits middle age and loses that ticking energy. But with, er, zero pounds spent on my night’s luxury… Continue reading WHEN A PROBLEM COMES ALONG, YOU MUST WHIPPET
TIRED OF LICHFIELD, TIRED OF LIFE ?
February 2026. Lichfield. Quite a rarity for me to get three new GBG pubs in quick succession these days, on a bus line as well. The number 36 rumbles between Walsall and Lichfield every half hour purely for the benefit of Beer Guide tickers, and Lichfield Council have also provided some parking spaces for campervans… Continue reading TIRED OF LICHFIELD, TIRED OF LIFE ?
THE LONE TREE ON STONNALL HILL, A DISCARDED BLOSSOM HILL BOTTLE
February 2026. Stonnall. A rare new GBG pub double, and just a 20 minute stroll from Lazy Hill in the West Midlands down to Stonnall over the Staffs border. I am delighted to find I know nothing about Stonnall (pop. 1,546) so I use AI. Chat GPT tells me it’s the 3,756th dullest town on… Continue reading THE LONE TREE ON STONNALL HILL, A DISCARDED BLOSSOM HILL BOTTLE
A GREEN DUCK IN ALDRIDGE’S HOP STATION
February 2026. Aldridge. Walsall. No railway station in Aldridge (the curse of B******g), but plenty of buses from my secret campervan stop. I still made the schoolboy error of heading for central Aldridge, confused by Lazy Turtles and Hop Heads, and missing the main point that my target GBG pub was actually in a suburb… Continue reading A GREEN DUCK IN ALDRIDGE’S HOP STATION
ISOTONIC ALDRIDGE
February 2026. Aldridge. Walsall. What can possibly compete with a wet Sunday in Letchworth ? Why, a wet Tuesday in Greater Walsall, of course. Where would I rather be than a shopping arcade in Aldridge, ruminating on my culinary options. Pig & Potato from the Pig & Potato, Sizzlin’ Crispy Sweet Chilli Chicken from the… Continue reading ISOTONIC ALDRIDGE
retiredmartin 