Here I go, reeling you in with cuddly fish and promises of Bass again.
This next one is a real curate’s egg, in this case the curate of Plympton, my base for the exploration of the Miners Arms in Hemerdon.
Take a look at the expanse of nothingness below Drakelands Mine (Wolf Minerals); that’s where they’re hiding the copies of the GBG 20 ahead of delayed posting this September.
So here we have a Dartmoor destination pub of solid stone,
bucolic views,
classic ’70s furnishings,
and plenty of irreverent drinkers at the bar enjoying those hooks on which to hand your Official BRAPA man bag.
And of course our friend Simon.
Anyway, back to the bar. One other ale drinker, and he wasn’t drinking Bass, but I had to.
Devon has a rich history of Bass drinking, as we’re shortly to discover.
In it’s own glass, out in the paddock amongst the chompers and pashminas, I reckoned I’d found a little slice of heaven.
But the first sip was a touch disappointing, and a scummy head rapidly descended into drabness.
You might think that’s a subtle difference, it really isn’t. More drone shots of the heads on beers are needed.
Anyway, desperately disappointing, doubly for it being Bass.
They’d kindly provided a drain.
Oh, sorry, that was actually the well wherein lie the remains of the last ticker to take a pint back. I cut my losses and walked back to Plympton.
retiredmartin 
So now I have to add a Drainability column to the spreadsheet. From your experience, and my walking trip to North Devon last year, cask quality seems very variable in Devon. Wonder if cask is now a poor third behind old school keg and cider. Even more of a problem if a pub goes for three or four casks.
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Three or four casks 😮
What madness is this?
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What did we call orange before we had oranges?
I’ve got scarlet pimpernels – weeds – growing all over the place. I’d call the flowers orange.
So, it’s the old red, then…
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I’m sure it’s never a pleasure to have to dump the remains of a pint, but it must be especially disappointing for you when it’s a pint of Bass. I imagine you’ve developed a special invocation you can utter to the gods of Burton-upon-Trent in such situations, assuring you’ll be forgiven. 😉
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Good grief you’re more sentimental about beer than Simon 😉
It’s only beer. The important thing is that we’ll always have banter, not Bass 🙄
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Is Devon the new Burton or Stoke for Bass? Like your honesty if it’s no good
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Bass goes back a long way in Devon, and has a fair few devotees (probably not tourists).
A landlord bear St Austell told me there was a covenant on the pub that requires him to always sell Bass 🙄
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What a great covenant 🔺🔺
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