“Are we in Preston yet ?” said the excited boy to his mum as the train passed Garstang, which really deserves its own stop now it’s got a new Guide entry.
It was understandable that the young lad was in a state of frenzy as we pulled into the City of Dreams, even in the drizzle.
And he only had Subway to look forward to; I had three (3) new GBG entries, a rare treat in a city of little change.
And the Wellington even promised Marston beers !
Marston’s seem to have adopted the out-of-town diner approach to a town centre pub tucked away in the attractive row of streets dripping down from the market square to the park. The sort of streets Mrs RM and I would like to retire to, in fact.
You can’t beat the 5pm Friday crowd, unless they’re all standing at the bar, bewildered of course. Most of this lot were well-behaved, but come Black Eye Friday things may be different.
A pub for the weekend, with food very much an afterthought. I could tell you they were playing Sheryl Crow, but, hey, it’s Preston, you knew that.
And the beer ? All your Wolves favourites.
So pleased was I to see the Pedi, it took a second to register the heated glassware, clearly fresh out of the dishwasher (see discussion on handwashed glasses here). Ignoring the fact it must be obvious to bar staff, but somehow wasn’t, the Pedi was carefully poured into a cooler glass.
After its traumatic journey, it had a decent head but a straw-like taste that made it an effort to finish (NBSS 1.5). I wasn’t taking it back. If you’re not selling enough cask on a Friday night leading up to Christmas, your cask is doomed.
At that moment the Paisley Preston Prince joined me after a 20 minute dash through the showers. He seemed rather happier with the Boon Doggle, which is quite high on the craft beer scale.
I hope Matthew has better recall than I do, because my notes say “VHS 1983″.”Where’s me shirt” and “You’re like full on mentally torturing me“, all of which make the Britannia seem more exciting than it was. Still, at least it’s not a micro pub.
Neither is the Twelve Tellers.
The Spoons was uncomfortably busy, so full marks to Matthew for nabbing a table.
But for top marks, why was Matthew shaking with rage ?
Nothing took my fancy, so I reverted to the Doom Bar test. No NBSS 4.5 miracle here, just a cool, smooth OK pint (NBSS 3) for your £1.65.
Not the greatest Spoons carpet, or the greatest Spoons (the Greyfriar up the road is better), but we survived, and plunged into the heart of Plungington.