Back in Cambridge, which looked awfully dull after 10 days in New York, and with my nearest GBG tick a long way away.
I started the serious work of planning the next two months trips before GBG20 land on my doorstep much later than expected.
Not to spoil the surprise too much, but this is where I am today.
A week in Yorkshire and Durham, four days in Devon and a night in a campervan in Bury Ste Edmunds to bring you before the end of July.
Let’s start near York with an average pint in an average pub in an average northern village.
That’s no criticism. I didn’t say “Below Average” did I.
And there’s an MOD firing range (marked on the map as “Danger Area”) so I don’t want to upset them.
It’s a pretty but functional village, which BRAPA had almost nothing to say about in 2014.
Except the roadworks, which are still there five years later.
The church on a little mound with views across to sheep and Castle Howard country is pleasant.
With time to kill I consider a half hour in the library reading The Mermaid’s Socks, but an eight year old called Emily beats me to it.
But apart from that the only thing of note is the Kan Kan Female Driving School, which sounds a little sexist.
The Ship looks like 90% of food-led dining pubs, which makes it more pubby than 90% of American bars.
As I enter to the strains of Ed Sheeran’s 2.3 billion Spotify plays classics, I survey a pub you could squeeze 3 Manhattan bars into.
Everyone is a few years older than me, they’ve all retired early, and half of them own a villa in Whitby Portofino.
The conversation was entirely about food. Pudding night at the Three Crowns, Duck a l’orange in Nunnington, splitting the bill. It was great to be home.
Everyone except the mom buying fruit shoots in front of me.
I look for Pumpkin Ale and Firestone Walker, but find only Otter.
Oh, local beers.
More to the point, What Did Simon Do ? Google tells me he had the Landlord, a wise choice.
I’ve mentioned the Landlord test. This was a cool, creamy pint with a slight metallic taste. NBSS 3 it is, which in the summer of 2019 ain’t that bad.
Steve Wright babbled on in the background, as he has done since 1980, I counted the number of folk drinking 1664 and Fosters.
No-one was drinking the cask, of course.
retiredmartin 
Once again, man we’re glad to be back in the UK.
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It was good we were able to smuggle you over in the container disguised as a Dylan Bootleg Series Vol 15 Boxset.
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I have a similar problem but in reverse. I look for Otter and find Pumpkin Ale and Firestone Walker.
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If you can get to Washington D. C. tonight they’ve got Lees Harvest Ale and Jarl on handpump.
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“Doesn’t it look lovely in pink”? Yes, but Wales looks terribly white. You’ll have to do something about that next week !
“near York with an average pint in an average pub in an average northern village” – but not in an average county ?.
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I’m quite close to finishing several of those GBG chapters, Paul.
No, Yorkshire definitely not average. I was in the Dales over the weekend and it was staggeringly beautiful.
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“No-one was drinking the cask, of course.” That doesn’t bode well for cask ale in general and the Guide in particular.
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My sense is you would probably notice a bit more cask being sold in a town local on a weekend evening in Kent, though possibly not.
I do sense the dining pub is 95% lager, cider, wine and juices these days.
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“the dining pub is 95% lager, cider, wine and juices these days” and the ordinary street corner local is 95% lager and nitrokeg. Only diners bother with cider, wine and juices these days
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Strongbow Dark Fruits is the new London Pride in London.
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Ireland being Ireland virtually no pub does food.
Nary a cheese bap to be seen.
And despite a once vibrant brewing industry hardly any craft beer and no cask.
However, at an impromptu gathering of various nieces and cousins of Mrs P P-T from all over the globe last night I managed to get full to the cap badge on White Gypsy Weisse Bock, Scraggy Bay IPA, Murphy’s and Johnny Fall Down cider.
That’s it now.
Three weeks on the tack.
No booze till I strap my ample backside to an LAX-bound jet.
Time to reacquaint myself with the goings-on in Corrie and EastEnders.
And wonder once again why the missus watches this rubbish.
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I assumed that every Irish pub served Irish stew with a side portion of Taytos. Just shows how little I know about Ireland.
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No, that’s every “Irish” pub outside Ireland.
The ones with Brown Eyed Girl on a loop.
By the way in Waterford a cheese bap is known as a cheese blah.
As I’m sure Reg Smeeton will vouchsafe.
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P P-T,
And might a cheese cob be known as a cheese blah ?
And a cheese barm cake ?
And a cheese roll ?
And a ………
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