Pub 2 on the Rugby Crawl was but a few yards from the Seven Stars. In fact, a look at my original schedule (being auctioned off in July) shows how close the pubs are together. You could visit eight in less than an hour, if you had Bob Hawke’s drinking prowess.
The tourist signs are a bit reticent about proclaiming Rugby as a great pub town, I notice.
If I was their Tourism CEO I’d be much more inclined to promote pubs like the Alexandra Arms, which I shall no doubt misspell as Alexander on this blog.
You can rely on a pub getting its Molson Coors delivery, and which seemed to be serving Carling from the jug. Just for Carling Pete.
Apart from that rarity, the beer was reassuringly well-known.
One of our group, probably the Yorkie, asked if there were any more beers round the other side of the bar. “Hope not !” said the wag of our group.
The official B&PF group had the front bar to itself, some Fairport was playing just for Mudgie, away from the riff-raff at the back.
I joined the riff-raff in the garden.
“Hello” I said.
“I know some good words“ said the drunkest of the happy mob. Oh yes.
“Imprucity” I think I wrote that one down wrong.
“And Petrichor. That’s a great word.” It was.
I put a quid in the excellent jukebox and chose five tracks.
Here’s my five picks;
Rush – Spirit of Radio
Low – Majesty
Sandy Denny – Listen, Listen
Bruce Springsteen – 4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)
Maria McKee – If Love Is A Red Dress, Hang Me In Rags
My new best friend came round to say hello and (no doubt) complement me on my music choice.
“Are you the landlord ?” someone asked.
“I’m just a dickhead” he said, but he certainly wasn’t.