Oooh, a poster for an event you haven’t quite missed yet. It’ll never catch on.
Next stop, Bishops Lydeard, which for the purpose of this post ONLY I’ve decided rhymes with herd or third. Tomorrow it can rhyme with fish if you want.
“Show us the trains, already” says the heritage bore.
Not only a picture, but also a whole 3 seconds of wholly unnecessary steam.
I spoil you on this blog.
Sadly, my new tick was one of those “Brewery Tap in a Shed” type things.
Quantock don’t have an attractive shell to work with, but they’re doing their best to bring in the young families who have mostly been noticeable by their absence in West Somerset.
I suppose if you’re a millenial dad who’s spent the best part of £100 entertaining toddlers on a slow train to nowhere you deserve a beer (only a half, mind).
And the Quantock Pale is cool, tasty and cheap.
But, Emily 1 and Emily 2 were very bored, and determined to ensure I couldn’t take any photos, and millenial dad got about 3 minutes of peace.
I found peace over the A358 (via the underpass) in the heart of the real Lydeard. It’s an underrated village.
I’d enjoyed the Bird In Hand just before I started this blog, but it’s just changed hands (though in Somerset “just” can mean a decade ago).
Half a dozen Old Boys and Gals sitting at the bar, all on pints. All said “Hello“.
I had time for a half of a pleasingly rich Butcombe (NBSS 3+) and ten minutes of peace.
It was Eli’s birthday.
“There’s nothing happy about a birthday once you reach 70”
There followed some discussion on the merits of blow-up dolls I’ll spare you.
Citra was to be the next guest beer.
“Oh dear, Citra”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it”
“Yeah, live a little”
I was delighted to see the Women’s cricket from Brizzle being treated seriously “That spun”, “Great save”, “Come on Storm” before someone rather let the side down with “Cor, look at her !”
And over it all, Jack Russell stands, admiring a Proper Pub.