The problem with arriving back in town at 10.40pm is that you immediately look at options for an inadvisable last beer. The station bar, Off the Rails, had an Old Boy singing trad Irish songs, there’s a Bass pub in the Beer Guide, and some other “interesting options“.
But, on the basis it had WiFi and wouldn’t kick me out till Midnight, I ended up at the Cabot Court. Other Weston Spoons are available, but they’re scary.
Admire below the pour, and admire the Tucher while Tim stocks it, my favourite wheat beer.
Some great free entertainment too from the town’s youth…
In the morning I woke, bright as a lark, to this glorious view of the putting green.
After the Spoons Mushroom Benedict (the highlight of 2018) I admired the art installations of north Weston.
This is one called “Sunday Night“.
And the Watneys sign isn’t far behind.
But, mainly for Mark, here’s the street art round the north pier.
And, of course, the spurious Beatles connection.
“No pleasure is worth giving up for the sake of two more years in a geriatric home at Weston-super-Mare”
Kingley Amis was right in principle, but for those of us not stuck in a care home yet, Weston is a shabby gem.