First of all, an apology to anyone who didn’t get to read “An old soak in Basingstoke” before it mysteriously disappeared from my site last night. It was one of my best, probably selling for 88p on the dark net. I blame the Russians. Or Russ. Or Basingstoke Tourist Office. If I can be bothered I might reconstruct it at some point.
Here’s a short bonus post, especially for Meccano fans, from the bit of Hampshire they call the Test Valley due to its proximity to Porton Down, tucked between Andover, Salisbury and Winchester and surrounded by sheep.
Not a lot to say about Broughton, bar a pleasing millennium sign,
and an enterprising village shop that sold me overpriced Reece’s peanut butter bars that kept me going till Fleet.
Two pubs on the hunting theme, with the Greyhound edged out by the Tally Ho.
It’s not going to win any prizes for “trad pub seating”, but those low pouffes did eventually provide the best views of proceedings.
Now here’s a beer choice dilemma.
I should have gone Ringwood, the locals’ pint, but a long walk had fuggled my judgement and I asked for what the nice lady described as “an experimental brew“.
The fox eyed my choice with suspicion.
But to be fair, it was very tasty, if a little thin (NBSS 3+). Not all microbrews made in old socks(possibly) in potting sheds within a golf shot of Porton Down is rubbish.
The pub had a good village mix, some impenetrable accents, and the sort of old tat to delight a bloke in his late 50s brought up on Dinky toys. Music, oddly from Duran Duran’s 1993 revival phase.
A day after national beer day, here’s some convincing generic beer advertising from Ye Olden Days.