Into Gloucestershire, and a rare chance to show you an incomplete page from the Beer Guide.
I think you’ll agree it looks much more impressive in bright pink than the dull green used by one of my GBG completist
enemies chums. On our family trip toward Somerset this Sunday I should be able to clear the entries around Bristol, though those newbies in the Forest of Dean are going to be a challenge.
This is one of my favoured counties, with some of the best urban pub walks around Bristol, and hilly rambles around sumptuous Stroud and it’s never-ending commons. Premiership fans may enjoy the pubs in Huddersfield (if police let them in), but League 2 supporters* will get an even better match-day experience at Nailsworth (unless they’re carnivores).
Cheltenham down to Stroud, of course, gives you the glories of Slad, which does tend to attract a few folk who’ve never been in a pub before.
I’ve already told you about the Cheltenham pub (work it out for yourself).
Great town, lovely mews pub, dull beer. That’s all I have to say about the Beehive.
Except I wish Otter would sample their magnificent beers in Free Houses so they realise what damage dull beer does to the brand.
It’s the sort of pub where you instinctively say “Hello” in your jauntiest (terrifyingly so) voice as you approach a crowded bar full of chat.
I won’t lie, and say they greeted me as a long-lost cousin, but it wasn’t “American Werewolf in London” either. It was just your average pub experience, with a cheery bar person. Most young bar people are cheery, oddly enough.
Over a decently cool Prescott** (NBSS 3), I learnt more about the two visiting couples than I know about my own family.
Looking at my notes now, I wonder how I stayed out of a conversation taking in carrots, the Philadelphian punk scene, shared interest in tree surgery, and the relevance of Boston to Americans (1775 and all that).
“The shot heard round the world” had faded by the time it got to Stroud, apparently.
Most excitingly of all, our American guests had to have the contents of a delightfully concise menu explained to them.
“So, what’s Gammon.” “Really !”
“And Shepherds Pie ? Are they local shepherds ?”
I never did find out what Homity Pie is. Mind you, I don’t know what “Po-Boy” is, and I’m going to LA at Christmas.
And I never did find out what the lady thought of her (Laurie Lee approved) pint of Robinsons Cider either.
*4th tier, just to annoy Tom
**I had Prescott in a box alongside Cottage; is that unfair ?