I’ve lost my notes for this little trip; must have been talking to Mrs RM or something. Either that or there was no decent banter to record. Anyway, a few photos remain.
The stretch of A38 south of Bristol and to the Cheddar Gorge is a bit of a mystery to me.
Dominated by the sort of roadside pubs offering airport parking that make those in Luton look posh, it’s quite a rapid journey out of the cutting edge that is Bedminster.
The key village is Axbridge, home to medieval King John’s Hunting Lodge, from which forays were made into Compton Bishop and Rodney Stoke in search of Wiper & True on keg.
It’s also Butcombe land. And I like Butcombe, despite their inevitably pointless re-brandings and expansion of the core range.
But the New Inn on the Axbridge/Cross crossroads had Otter (or Doom Bar). I won’t score it; let the look on the face of the plastic tree reveal all. You should have seen his face after I poured the half away.
Almost worth the cost of a half for the view over to Cheddar. But not quite.
Five minutes away, Banwell was a weird place, its unprepossessing GBG pub closed to spite me, and a sense of death pervading the whole village. If I suddenly stop blogging, look for my body there.
So thank goodness for the Swan, possibly the Butcombe flagship, set in some gorgeous walking country.
A picture postcard setting, cheery service, and the best Butcombe of the week. Goodness knows why a dining pub needs four beers, mind.
If anyone has actually done the Butcombe pub trail, etc etc.