Having decided to report on ALL the pubs I visit (except THAT one in Lincs), I’m faced with the reality that some places are a bit dull, particularly the Social Clubs that seem to be making the Guide with a vengeance this year.
Unless there’s some admission drama e.g. “Oooh, we don’t let you CAMRAs in anymore” (See:BRAPA in Penistone), or they’re in really exciting places like Mexborough or Accrington to begin with, they can be a bit soulless and orderly. Bit like Brunning & Price then.
Their inclusion in the GBG sometimes seems to be reward for a hardworking bar steward with free reign to order beers no-one actually likes.
Luckily Clent Club has the advantage of geography, at least.
I approached from the back, walking up through the allotments. Allotment owners really don’t like intruders, do they ?
We’ve a patch like this one between our house and the Milton Brewery, and the folk tending their veg always stare at you like you’re going to nick their carrots to save 72p or something. I guess they’ll be laughing when we Brexit.
“Remarkable views to the Clee Hills” says WhatPub. Which would be impressive, if it were true.
But I get a good feeling about the Clent Club as youngsters and Pashmina mums start to congregate in the garden, enjoying the nominated warm day for late March.
Pubs and clubs where young and old rub shoulders (not literally) are my favourite, and I can overlook the fact that the interior is modern and well-maintained.
In front of me in the queue two lads in their twenties are either skipping off work to enjoy the sun or are also pub bloggers. They order from the extensive menu; two sausage rolls at 60p each. Clent is posh but the prices are very Black Country.
£3 a pint of cool, smooth, unchallenging HPA (NBSS 3) to finish Worcestershire. Beer prices have struggled to get above £3 around here, which I bet you wouldn’t have guessed.
On the downside, I don’t think I’ve scored a beer above NBSS 3, either. There’s a certain symmetry about that.
Blame the Carling drinkers for their lack of conversion from cool, consistent, satisfying fizz to the real ale lottery.
retiredmartin 
Clent – eastward, then, from Stourport.
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PS, fictional views from pubs are a pillar of any neo-dadaist review. I’ve enjoyed yours a few times, Martin – I’m trying to remember an example.
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Don’t start confusing me with your radical geography.
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Did you miss the pun then, or was it just uncommentworthy? They generally are, mind.
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Didn’t get it. I remember “Da Da Da” by Trio in 1982 but not Da Da.
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Hold on a minute! My cousin is the Stewardess at Penistone British Legion (previously running The Old Crown across the road), they only didn’t let Simon in because I rang up in advance and told her not to let him in. Personally I have never had a problem gaining entry. My uncle Fred is a permanent feature (and at 84 still a very good snooker player), his mother, Nancy Bowling, was the Stewardess for many, many years, back when it was down the alley between the Church and the Hight Street. My Nan worked behind the bar on a Friday evening for a long time too. I don’t see why a very good club should be spoiled by pub tickers who only want a half of beer. As the saying goes, God never made half days.
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Yes, indeed, “God never made half days” so why do so many pubgoers not touch a pint before noon ?
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Because they’re amateurs.
Like some breakfast TV totty I read this morning who gave up alcohol because of the damage it did to her skin and has ” only been unfaithful to sobriety eight times since.”
Alcohol-wise you’d have about eight birds on the go at once Mudgie.
Wahaay !
Speaking of which Down Mexico way I’ve made the dangerous discovery of mescal apple martinis – I never tire of finding new ways of getting shit-faced in the sun although I was horrified to learn I unintentionally paid 20 bucks for a shot of Johnny Walker Blue Label last night.
I’m in bandit country even though the bandits are smiling through crooked teeth.
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It’s one of those urban myths, if you drink before noon then you’ll become an alcoholic! A bit like if you sit on the seat of a public toilet you’ll catch VD …
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So I needn’t have avoided public toilet seats all my life ?
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You were right to prevent him getting in, Richard.
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Si drinks pints though, doesn’t he?
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ONLY pints.
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– and enough of them to make it worthwhile letting him in ?
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I’ve seen him drink halves
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That was his body double.
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Then he’s not the man I thought he was !
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Sigh. So far behind it’s not funny. All I can do at present is try to read the ‘daily’ posts (of which you have three today!).
To make matters worse, I’ll be AWOL for over a week come April 24th as we’re off to Cancun where a good friend of mine is paying for the ‘room’ in the resort.*
* by ‘room’ I mean one that is 2,583 square feet and comes with its own personal assistant!
Anyway, off to read the post. 🙂
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“(See:BRAPA in Penistone)”
I was going to suggest you save those ones for when you’re with Si. 🙂
“The mysteries of Greater Bromsgrive”
Bromsgrove surely?
“You can’t see that far”
It’s because of all of those bloody trees.
“Quality reading material”
See! If Si had been there it would be ‘Cats’ or some such. 🙂
“There’s a certain symmetry about that.”
Indeed.
“Blame the Carling drinkers for their lack of conversion from cool, consistent, satisfying fizz to the real ale lottery.”
For some reason, ‘stodgy’ comes to mind. 🙂
Cheers
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Clent is always has been and always will be proper black country and has pub prices accordingly…
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