A nice picture of That Sheffield for our Rich, who can no doubt interpret for us.
A second new Guide pub awaited at the Neptune Ale House, just behind my hotel back on Saltergate.
Another pub tucked away in the suburbs, with children leaving en-masse at the 9pm witching hour.
It’s the sort of backstreet pub you dream of, but only find in the Guide if they have an unwise number of beers on.
Actually, not too bad, with Belgian beers you’ve actually heard of but rarely see on draught, and a dirt cheap Barnsley Bitter.
Now, don’t get too excited, but I didn’t see many pashminas, just normal people having lots of drink and enjoying Ed Sheeran (only possible after 4 pints).
OK, OK, one of them had a Shoreditch cap and a trophy dog.
In fact, there were loads of dogs. I suppose they’re cheaper than children, in the long run.
A cracking atmosphere, with proper seating, a darts room and more cask drunk than in the whole of the Kingdom of Fife that night. Possibly.
If I’m honest, which I am 98% of the time, the Barnsley was a little thin, but it was still a decent pint.
So that was that. Time to sneak back into the hotel without waking Pyjama Man up.
Ah, but what’s this across the road, hiding its loveliness away from the GBG glare these days.
Take a look at the beer board. Draught Bass, Hartington and Plump Porter (not a typo).
Somehow, I resisted. I’d had enough. And I had BRAPA to contend with the next morning.
Just Sods Law I choose to be sensible facing the best selection of beers so far this year.