You never want to end an evening on a sour note. Having completed Bristol, and therefore Gloucestershire, I scoured What Pub for pre-emptive potential.
Sadly, places called “Clifton Sausage”, “Amoeba” and “Illusions Magic Bar” (honestly)offered little potential, so I did a revisit of the Victoria. Yes, sometimes I go back to the same place twice.
Always good to see the scary suburbs of a town,
and the Vic is menacingly placed next to the mysterious LIDO (an anagram of some sort).
I had no recollection of the place, at all. Which shows how similar a lot of the Bristol pub stock are in feel.
“Small and cosy” says What Pub. Indeed. This is the view from the door.
Literally, that’s the approach to the bar. The two ladies, without the option of “two pints of Bass, please” were engaged in a lengthy discussion about their drinking options.
Clearly, I couldn’t move forward, lest I risked blocking them on or inadvertently getting involved in mansplaining activity, and you don’t sit down before you order, do you ?
So I cautiously explored the second room, peeping round the corner while protecting my place in the “queue“.
At least lengthy transaction in front of me enabled me to make a firm decision before reaching the bar (Tiny Rebel), clock the black board offering CAMRA discount, and count out my £3.87 in pennies.
Of course, the discount only applies on Dawkins ales. Which is fair enough. I have no recollections of Dawkins ales. Have I missed out ?
The Tiny Rebel Citra Milkshake IPA (again, honest) was a bit special, cool, thick and with the milkshake not dominating (NBSS 4). I love Tiny Rebel, me. And the chips in their bars are nearly as good as Brewdog.
There were a dozen folk in their twenties having polite chats about CAMRA revitalisation issues with their mates. A great pubby atmosphere reminiscent of the Live & Let Live in Cambridge, except that no-one was drinking free tap water here.
My faith in Bristol pubs was restored. The Vic even have loos with the word “Gentlemen” on the door. How quaint.
My alternative route back to Temple Meads ensured I wasn’t tempted to pop in the Bag o’Nails and cuddle a cat, so I just ticked off two iconic sights;
Sadly, I arrived back at the station with 12 minutes to spare, just enough time for a nightcap of Otter in the Spoons. You know what, it was nectar.