You left me in the toilets at the Fighting Cock, admiring the art work.
The Green Devil was a bad idea, because you then lose rational thought and have to stop at every pub on the stagger back.
Which is why it’s called a Stagger.
Bradford sure looks good, if a bit quiet compared to L**ds.
I’m enticed by the Castle Hotel, a GBG regular until the surge of craft in North Parade.
I hadn’t been for 15 years, and it’s still run by a charming Indian landlord and still heaving, the busiest I’ve seen a Bradford pub.
Perhaps it’s the English folk, which magically gives way to Indian folk, storytelling in its purest form.
Perhaps it’s the free spread of pork pies and sausage rolls. I hope it was free. We’ll find out if Si goes there.
Mainly its the buzz, a cultural melting pot to match the White Lion in Walsall.
That means Folk War “Coal not Dole” T-shirts, reminiscences about Rory Gallagher and cans of Guinness.
It’s not the ale range that brings them in, though Jennings (NBSS 2.5/3) and Eagle will do me.
I should have recommended it to Lady Sinks the Booze when she visited , I really should.