Ooh, look, the Huawei thingy is back. Just as sinisterly, I’ve had 26 views from China so far today. You’re all under surveillance now for rubbishing Tsingtao on Beer Twitter.
In a rush now. In blog time, I’m about a day away from the Dolphin in Plymouth (Bass alert), in real time I’m a day away from drinking actual Bass in Machynlleth again.
For now, the nearest GBG tick to the Buckfast Brewery or whatever you call it. I presume the number of visitors in Ashburton reflects the preference for a Buckfast/cream tea double header over a walk on Dartmoor.
Ashburton is smaller than Waterbeach, but has eight times as many cafes and five times as many delis, one of which provides my lunch.
Which was dreadful, by the way. Cold spinach in pastry is a bad idea.
The town is quaint, and I will think fondly of it when I return to nearby Totnes the next day.
Your usual West Country narrow roads with brightly coloured buildings, a sight only scarred by that one lump of scaffolding.
Oh, it’s my pub.
It’s hard to appreciate the 889 year old features, hopefully not the barrel of Dartmoor cider, but the pub is classic Devon boozer.
“Don’t bang yer ‘ead” says someone, just as I bang my head. Were they all dwarves in 1130 AD ?
Joke over, the locals went back to debating duck eggs and their problems sleeping in the heat.
I’m all for old pubs (I’m not really) but the old wobbly tables meant my beer slid across the table on a little slop of foam, only just caught skilfully at the edge.
To be honest, it was hardly worth saving; cool and clear but completely indistinctive, and my first urinal pour of the trip (NBSS 2.5). And I know 2.5 means competently kept but I’d leave chips if they were that dull.
Time to move on, but not before banging my head on the way to the Gents BECAUSE IT’S TOO DARK !