My last Mid Wales pub on the trip, and almost certainly my last in GBG19.
And what a cracker the Greyhound was, tucked away in Radnorshire to the west of the thriving metropolis of, er, Kinghton.
But look, it’s got a railway station, under a slightly different name to fool BRAPA.
I’ve kindly worked out the train times for BRAPA for tomorrow.
The 10:53 from York and 17:23 from Llangynllo would make for a pleasant day on the train, with an hour’s walk to and from the pub in the rain and 21 minutes in the Greyhound. Assuming it actually opens at 16:30, of course.
And assuming Si finds the entrance. It took me a minute.
Oh look, a GBG regular. How could I have left it so long ?
Five locals stood at the bar. One of them looked familiar.
They were welcoming and chatty, and we soon got into lively conversation about the Brecon by-election the next day, comparing guesses on the number of defaced posters on the road to Builth.
Two beers on (is plenty !), Exmoor Stag and something from Nottingham. I went for Exmoor “because it’s closer“, only to be told that Nottingham was nearer. You don’t get that sort of debate in a Brunning & Pricey, as they write all the distances in miles on the pumpclip.
A decent Stag (NBSS 3+), great banter, a pub seemingly run for the benefit of those locals. Who ALL knew the Anchor, Anchor.
I could have stayed all night and annoyed them by playing Curved Air.
But I had a Chinese takeaway to collect, so I bade them farewell, after failing to find the outside toilet, twice.
Back at the Guest House, I searched Llangunllo on my own blog…
A mere two years ago, and forgotten already. Honestly.