You might on occasion think this blog is a bit obsessed with BRAPA, and of course you’d be right. Laughing at Simon’s “antics” has either added or taken 3 years to/from my life, and his lack of litigation awareness means I can nick whole words without fear of being sued.
And that obsession clearly runs deep in our own family.
Inspired by the fact a young man with Simon’ s dress sense can run a successful blog, my son Matt started his own blog on his 16th birthday (a bit metal-obsessed, but his grammar is better than mine), and it can’t be long before BRAPA legends like “Mufti Menk” start working their way into his gig reviews.
To cap it all, Mrs RM has been feigning the sort of leg injuries that Everitt tired us with a year ago. That meant, with half an hour to waste at King’s Cross, we couldn’t even get to Simon and my favoured railway pub.
Anyway, probably not wise to take Mrs RM to the Scottish Stores given her proclivity for leaving her bags on tables, given Si’s recent experience there.
So the Parcel Yard it was, forgetting just how many steps a sore foot has to climb to get to the entrance.
Not quite a favourite pub of mine, but with the best free loos in the kingdom, clean tables and very decent beer on occasional visits. There’s much worse ways to welcome you to the Capital. Far too many beers on the bar, of course.
There was a queue of half a dozen in the middle of the bar, so I joined it, The alternative would have been to head straight for the bar and appear to push in, prompting a barrage of middle class abuse.
“Hi folks. You could really help us serve you by spreading out along the bar”
Cue the biggest rush for a barrier since New Order at Doncaster Rotters in 1985.
“Right. Who’s next ?”
“Excuse me” boomed menu waving woman. “I’ve been waiting ten minutes“. She really hadn’t.
Cue the usual whingeing about Lager Drinker with the right change who nips in while we’re not looking etc. etc.
All good pub fun that you don’t get at home.
Of course, you’ll say that if the customers had been spread across the bar in the first place, the staff would have known who was next. They don’t seem to in Spoons, when “Who’s next ?” is a genuine cry for help, and I’ve been bypassed by away fans barging in at the Parcel Yard before. Queues have their use.
Anyway, here’s the ESB.
It looks pretty good, I’d say it was very decent (NBSS 3). Another cool pint to end the day.
Because I’d enjoyed it so much in Southampton, I finished with the unfiltered Pride. Today it was a bit “meh”, as Erlanger Nick would say. That’s the unfiltered Pride lottery for you.