A few short bitty posts now as I rush back and forwards between the laptop and the annual charity sale, where I attempt to sell tat to folk at deflated prices.
So bit of a rush through the pubs. Which will please some of you who think I should always be in a pub.
This is my Southsea Guest House. Not as scary as it looks, except for the lagers.
I had two targets west of Pompey, in Swanwick and Fareham.
But first, a two flat white top-up in the Fratton Spoons.
This is where your writer bravely tried Prosecco a year ago. Not sure the locals have recovered from the shock.
Twenty minutes to Fareham, as dull a Southern town as you could dream of.
Only two previous trips here. On the first I spent an hour in Fareham reading “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix“, one of the great books (honest). Then I went to the Spoons and drank Brew Dog’s Edge, one of the great beers.
Apart from two Spoons the only pubby highlight is the Golden Lion in the old part of town. Nothing of note happened there.
Now the Delme Arms hits the GBG, tucked a mile or more from the station near the pond.
It’s festooned with “Pub of the Year” banners, possibly an award from Fareham Conservative Association, and is a classic quality community pub.
No Fareham Town FC flags on the ceiling though.
Too many TVs, all showing a Katy Perry special for St Georges Day.
And all the ales from the barrel.
I always persist with Langham beers in the area, and this was a cool, floral NBSS 3+. But I wouldn’t say the ale was flying out.
I would say the Delme had that rare sight of dads drinking with their lads at the bar, and lasses drinking jugs in the garden, that you never get in a micropub.
But just what is this modern obsession with boxed ciders ?