One thing I learned quickly about blogging is never to look a gift horse in the face.
When the man responsible for keeping Preston’s Spoons in business gives you the title, use it.
I guess my first post-Malta pint could have been some pale hoppy abomination, but it was never going to be, was it ?
I know I’m in a minority here, but a well-kept Sheps Master Brew is still a joy. Still a surprise to see Swale CAMRA stick another plain Sheps house in the Guide in a world of micro pubs though.
Safely set away off the A299, well away from Micropub land, the Three Horseshoes in Staplestreet is gorgeous. As is the 45 minute stroll from Faversham station in the first real sunshine I’ve seen in a week.
But the Three Horseshoes looks a little, er, quiet. The door to the public door is firmly locked, and despite checking WhatPub/GBG/Website/Facebook before setting off I suddenly wish I’d applied in writing to visit, 2 weeks in advance.
Then I see the front door. Silly me, a BRAPA mistake to make.
It’s 10 past 3, there’s no-one about, my squeaked and desperate “Hello” gets no response.
Just as I’m pondering “What Would Duncan Do ?” (pour himself a beer), the Guvnor comes out of the Gents. He’s more surprised than I am.
Joy of joys ! Just two hand pumps on the bar. Still too much choice if you ask me, and I’ll vote for any NEC candidate who thinks so too.
Master Brew poured, the landlord is off again, leaving me to give my pint a tour of the three rooms. A good balance between cosy, chintzy and basic, which makes a duff acronym.
The historical tat is well-judged, apart from this inadvisably named bottle.
On the downside, scatter cushions are everywhere.
It’s a curate’s egg of a pint. A proper scummy head, by turns watery and full-bodied, and leaving no lacings at the end (NBSS 3).
Welcome back to proper beer, retiredmartin.