You may be surprised to hear this, but I didn’t know William Bass came from Hinckley. I’d always assumed he was born in Milton Keynes General. So the local CAMRA branch had already increased my vital beer knowledge from a quick read of Half Pint in the Elbow Room.
There seemed to be 15 pubs on that trail offering Bass, Worthy or Brew XI. Which is 15 more than in the whole of Cambridgeshire (I think).
One of those was the Pestle & Mortar, the inevitable new micro pub, (No.7 on the map).
That meant an entertaining walk through a town centre looking more old-fashioned than ever since the developments round the Crescent. After the gloss of the new, it was back to traditional alleyways, shops and a hotel that may beat the Premier Inn for adventure.
If Dick and Dave do stay in the Kase Hotel on their next UK visit I’ll pop by and buy them a Bud.
They’d enjoy the architecture, even if some of the businesses behind the facades are dead;
And the pubs were lively, perhaps busier than Leicester. From out of the Bounty came the strains of “Nice’n’Sleazy“, an accurate description of the area between the new “entertainment” centre and pedestrianised Castle Street.
The overall effect is a bit like Haverhill, a Suffolk town looking to become self-sufficient with modern shopping and entertainment facilities, leaving the old centre looking fairly gritty. My sort of town.
No Bass in Haverhill, though. The Pestle & Mortar is a little Bass shrine.
I get a bit fed up with pubs who lay the Bass memorabilia on thick but don’t give it a go on the pumps.
Here you get the Bass in pride of place.
“Pint of Bass, please”
“We’ve got other beers on the board if you want them”
“You don’t come to Hinckley to not drink Bass”
“You certainly don’t”
The landlady took pride in her beers; the cobs looked great too.
At 4.30 it was packed with Old Boys, tradesmen (mainly electricians with complex probems) and other beer drinkers. But the talk was of skittles, not beer.
It’s a simple formula really.
And worth a trip just for the very functional loos.
I really should have revisited the very trad New Plough and Queen’s Head, but they can wait for my inevitable beer and curry night here.
Hinckley looked a picture on the walk back to the station.
I chased the sunset, all the way to the Hungry Horse, and nipped in to use their loos.
And I nearly succumbed to the Starry, Starry Night. But you know who brews that, don’t you ?