TWO, count them, TWO pubs for you this time, as the Pubmeister attempts to make up for lost time and reach Stackpole before dark descended.
Next up was Solva, famed anong Guardianistas for the harbourside pubs.
But possibly not the roadside Royal George. Or Villa Giorgio as it appears to be known.
You can see the sea from the car park, if you jump high enough.
We turned up on Monday night, the one day without steaks, so I guess it wasn’t surprising we doubled the crowd.
I can’t pretend this one made much of an impression, though no pub is entirely without merit. Two sorts of seating, beer mats, and a mini piano. What more do you want ?
In and out in ten minutes, making up time. Oh no, Duncan’s been nabbed by the two Old Boys, admiring his jumper or something.
Anyhow, five minutes to Roch, and some lovely home brew.
Homebrew willl always get you in the Guide. Unless you’re in Glossop.
The Victoria had four of their beers on, which will have thrilled the OAP diners who demand CHOICE. They were the epitome of OK, I seem to recall Duncan saying. He may deny it now.
You can never be bored in Duncan’s company; his tales of breaking into Isle of Mull golf clubs at midnight to pour himself a half are blog gold.
But my attention drifted to old newspapers and copies of the Beano decorating the walls.
What’s wrong with Bass mirrors, anyway ?
As we headed towards Pembroke, we took a moment to admired the sunset.
“Not a bad life” one of us said.
Not unless I failed to make it to Stackpole before closing.