I confess, I read BRAPA last night and thought “what’s the point?”
Not the point of BRAPA, the point of pub blogging.
But I press on, into August in fact, and bring you what was at the time my nearest new GBG tick.
Yes, a mere 3hrs 7, even with the usual delay at the M40 as City headed to Wembley for an 8th victory in 8 visits in 2 years.
West Parley, I feel confident in telling you, wasn’t inspired by Paul Young’s debut album, but is almost as dull, buried in the relentless suburbia of North Bournemouth.
Look closely and you’ll see the Owl’s Nest is actually in Dudsbury, a homage to your favourite overpriced Mancunia.
You’ll also notice the plate of undercooked veg in the Google picture, obviously leftovers from the GBBF staff party.
Gentlefolk love their mountain of veg On A Sunday (Nick Heyward ref for Mark), and had ensured all tables were taken by Septuageraians on the Sabbath.
That left just a couple of high tables for me and one other brave drinker.
Mind, he was on Peroni and it was me who had to choose between competing homebrew.
It looks like a house beer but apparently Brew Shack make it for places that cater for crafties as well.
It was chilled and thin and watery, like cider left in the freezer overnight.
I wondered what Brew Shack, whose beers I’ve loved, would make of it.
“You should have taken it back!”
shouts someone who doesn’t do this for a living. Not my job, mate, and why give an overworked barmaid taking pudding orders more work to do?
No, my job is to score it on WhatPub, and pink in the entry in the Beer Guide, and give sustenance to a pot plant.
These diners all blur into each other, and their stay in the GBG is as long as it takes for a new craft beer bar in Boscombe to open.