retiredmartin

August 2026. Frome. The pub blogging community is very tight knit and supportive. Oxford Nick aka Prop Up The Bar has been receiving our counselling support since posting this photo on Tuesday; I shall be stealing that Olivia Rodrigo reference for future blog titles (see also : Bad Idea, Right). Kentish Paul had encountered some… Continue reading THE THREE SWANS, FROME. “No marine will be left behind”.

August 2026. Frome. It’s 12:13 last Saturday and we’re already on Pub 3 on the Great Frome Pub Survey, or whatever we’re calling it. It’s something called Archangel, without the “The“, like Architects without the definitive article. And that’s where the notes stop, at least until the pub where the cider was £2.80 a pint.… Continue reading ARCHANGEL, FROME – THE AI ASSISTED POST

August 2026. Frome. Oh look, spoiler, a map showing our pub crawl route in Frome last Saturday. The best is yet to come, but every pub deserves a Retired Martin post, even the George, the most stately looking place in the market place. I just looked up room rates this weekend; minimum 3 night stay… Continue reading WHO ARE FOLLY ROAD ?

August 2026. Frome. I can’t remember why we started our Proper Pub Crawl/Curated Survey of Licensed Premises* at the Blue Boar. Oh yes, it opened at 10am. We live in a world where many pubs don’t open till 4pm (if at all) during the week, noon if you’re lucky, so the value operators like Wetherspoons… Continue reading 3 1980 BLONDIE HITS IN A ROW. THE BLUE BOAR, FROME

August 2026. Frome. Somerset. A weekend in student digs in Bath, with the centrepiece a Saturday pubbing in Frome, guided by local celebrities Jon and Tracey. “Froooom. Throwm. ANiceTotnes. However you pronounce it, Frome is a gem”, I wrote on my last visit in March 2020, just before something cataclysmic happened. I’m veering towards “A Nicer Totnes” to… Continue reading DON’T BE LATE FOR THE LEAT ! FROME AWAITS

August 2026. Bath. I arrived back at Isambard’s (quite  good) statue with 5 minutes to spare, and half an hour later was clambering the Paragon steps on the edge of central Bath. You must know this one. A symphony in brown dark red, where Stafford Paul awaited with the sacred jug of flat Bass. I’d… Continue reading THE TRADITIONAL SHARING OF A JUG OF BASS IN THE BATH STAR

August 2026. Bristol. My train to Bath left in 50 minutes time; Google reckoned 54 minutes walk from the Port of Call to Temple Meads, which gave little time for dawdling on the descent through Cotham Hill. And so, once more, I could only pause at the Highbury Vaults, and marvel that they still have… Continue reading ONE OF THESE DAYS I’LL ACTUALLY GO IN THE HIGHBURY VAULTS AGAIN

August 2026. Bristol. I’ll show my deep ignorance of suburban Bristol now and admit I don’t really know the difference between Clifton Village and Clifton proper, about 50p on a pint I guessed. Yes, there are buses I could have taken, but then I’d have missed the closed zoo, Clifton Down looking like a scorched… Continue reading ALI G, OTTER, AND A RAPID DESCENT FROM CLIFTON

August 2026. Bristol. It’s been a while, but I finally managed a trip outside that brutal Manchester-Midlands-Cambridge-Kent corridor last weekend. A choice of routes down to Bath, and the one stopping at Oxford would have been ideal except the pub there didn’t open till 2pm and I needed to be at the Star for 4.… Continue reading NEW (IN) BRISTOL