First Lydney, now Coleford. More towns about which I could have told you nothing a week ago, beyond the fact that BRAPA hadn’t yet upset the locals and they didn’t have a Wetherspoons.
On my fourth trip down the M50 this summer, I at least had the joy of a journey down the west side of the Wye, where a German campervan had misjudged a height restriction in Symonds Yat Rock, with predictable consequences. They should have picked Sane*.
Coleford was the busiest place I saw in the Forest, with a couple of Scunthorpe coach companies parked up in the Bells Golf Hotel car park, my (deservedly) budget B&B. As I arrived, a group of businessmen in Titleist mode were comparing their rounds;
“My drive was good, my chip was good, my putting was great. It was everything else.”
The walk from reception to bedroom took longer than it takes Paul Mudge to walk to a pub in the next village, and the hall lights only come on automatically when you arrive.
The bar had exciting craft beers from Rock in Cornwall, but the mobility scooters weren’t there for the beer.
With an hour before my micro opened (of course) I explored a town famed for being the world centre of Lucozade production. I was tempted to pop in one of the pubs to see if they had Lucozade on draught.
But then remembered the unmarked graves in Parkend and though better of it.
Odd place, Coleford. Sparkling new Co-op with a salad bar straight outta’ Monmouth Waitrose. Like Mrs RM, I always overfill the cheapest possible salad bowl. “Sorry, my lovely. It won’t close“.
Apart from the Co-op, it was deserted at 4.30. A multiscreen cinema with more choice than Stevenage looked a bit of a luxury for a town without essentials like a BrewDog. Some good tat though, and the home of “Britain’s best white loaf“. (The best sourdough is in Lewes).
A compact middle you can walk in two minutes, and you’re in the Forest in five, this walk leading to absolutely nowhere.
I’d timed the walk to coincide with the opening of the Dog House.
I was still beaten by two regulars, as is always the way.
With one exception, it wasn’t that chatty, despite my best efforts (see also: Worcester). Micro pubs often feel like a club you’re not invited to, whereas Proper Pubs in Dean were incredibly inclusive.
But the barmaid made up for it.
“Hello. Nice to see you”
And noting my attempt to join a conversation about the Elgoods Beer Goggles.
“Would you like a sample ?”
Pub service at its best, and she said “Thanks” when I left.
It was a good pint of Pershore (NBSS 3), at a good price, in a proper seat.
But when you try to join a conversation going on two yards away, and get blanked, twice, it’s time to leave.
“Beware the full moon in Cinderford” said the Old Boy I hadn’t seen sitting in the corner.
*For Americans – football reference. Don’t worry about it.
retiredmartin 
I’m going to bide my time to see if the use of ” maid ” is a subtle but deliberate attempt to get Russ to jump onto the hook.
Biding has begun.
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Grief you’re quick. I corrected that within 45 seconds of publishing. Freudian slip I think ;-()
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Better a pink unicorn than a pink something else that you might find in a Winchester Wetherspoons.
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Oh, very good, Paul👍
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I’ve always read “Titleist” as “tit-leist” 😮
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i consider everything I do not understand to be a football reference. It makes me feel better.
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I concur. 🙂
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At last.
Canadians and Americans agree on something …
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Merge now.
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Life After Football will explain the offside rule for a pint of Bass in a dumpy Leicestershire village.
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The offside rule is the only football rule I understand. Obstruction is another story.
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Obstruction gets my goat, as we say. You’re allowed to shepherd a ball out of play and stop the attacker getting the ball. Obstruction should be given a lot more than it is.
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“My drive was good, my chip was good, my putting was great. It was everything else.”
What else is there in golf? (scratches head)
“took longer than it takes Paul Mudge to walk to a pub in the next village, ”
Or Si… when he doesn’t have a wonky knee. 🙂
“but the mobility scooters weren’t there for the beer.”
Judging by the way they’re parked I’d say they’ve already had enough bloody beer!
“Unprepossessing (2)”
They don’t look as scary on Streetview.
“Town Square”
See, now that looks nice. And The Feathers is literally a stone’s throw away. 🙂
“Pink unicorn gets everywhere”
Um, I think that’s a My Little Pony. She’s not horny enough to be a unicorn.
“Just keep walking”
That’s another of those ‘filter’ shots, innit?
“Ribena Brewery keg only”:
Ugh. I thought all that was good for was a rum and black?
“Looks good”
Can’t be all bad if they’re quoting Hunter S. Thompson. 🙂
(‘good people and good beer’ on the wall)
“But when you try to join a conversation going on two yards away, and get blanked, twice, it’s time to leave.”
Sigh. Come over here. That’s par for the course.
Cheers
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Is that last line of yours a golf pun ?
Don’t mention Si’s wonky knee.
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Is it as bad as my wonky knee ?
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I’ve never been able to make up my mind. What is worse, Locozade or Irn Bru?
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But neither of them, unlike Vimto, are an anagram of Vomit.
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Locozade – made of diesel fuel ;-))
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