Right, now I’ve see the Southworths off (coincidentally they’re leaving the day Donald Trump arrives, odd that) it’s time to attempt to catch up.
Lots more from York, though not this re-opened Sam Smiths gem that I walked past four times without going in.
It’s very easy to get distracted from The Ticking Mission in York. How I avoided a pint in the Brigadier Gerard and the Blue Bell is something to marvel at.
I had one new tick near the Minster, a sure-fire pre-emptive, and a couple in Harrogate to fit in before meeting BRAPA.
Yes, Simon had generously agreed to waive his strict “no drinking on days divisible by Pi” rule to say hello. We’d also invited Duncan, but he had some half-hearted excuse involving moths riding bikes to Monday League reserve fixtures in Lincolnshire.
I still had time to walk the walks, the cheapest attraction in York. Though if you stood at the foot of Monkgate charging tourists a quid to enter the stairway you could fund a year of BRAPA in an afternoon.
I expect there’ll be a micro pub at every corner soon, but for now this is a peaceful stroll where Japanese selfie-takers are your only obstacle.
Frankly, the Leeds pumpclips still work for me, so I’ve no doubt they’re overdue for a dreadful revamp.
I took a half of Pale that’s not quite cool enough in search of somewhere cosy to sit.
It’s a gorgeous building, but the antithesis of a pubby one, and at 4pm any dining trade had long gone. It has a woman’s touch, says Mrs RM, and nowt wrong with that in a restaurant.
The few drinkers were all outside enjoying the
free Wi-Fi sun. A group of American students were enjoying a collective cuddle, something Trump has outlawed back in the States.
Perhaps their hug was to celebrate a Beer Guide tick, I never asked, but silently recorded my NBSS 3 (just about) on WhatPub, and moved on.