Mrs RM is free to nick any of my photos from Winchester for her blog, for the usual fee.
For such a posh
town city, Winchester always delivers a decent night out. Perhaps because people do still go out, and not just at weekends.
Loads of folk like us (old, careworn etc etc), young professionals and students (all in the Spoons, mind). Perhaps Winchester University Bar isn’t that cheap.
We’d eaten in the Overdraft, again.
You know how much we love those keg flights.
This is the local craft place with a DJ playing naff vinyl unironically.
Dead or Alive “You Spin Me Around” we knew, but I drew a blank on this one.
Only a braver man than me would go cask, so I had Electric Bear while Mrs RM looked sniffily at a tulip of 8% Imperial IPA from Squawk.
“A half ?”
“It’s 8%. And a pint would have taken you over your expenses limit”
Here’s the seafood platter that cost the same as 11 pints of Sam Smiths OBB at the Boar’s Head. We enjoyed it.
But there is only one place to finish off an evening in Winchester, and after that Doom Bar interlude we headed for the Old Gaolhouse, cruelly out of the current Guide but hopefully back in for BRAPA’s visit in 2028.
Mrs RM only knows it as the inflatable cock pub.
Even on Wednesday in October, it was heaving and chaotic, with the ladies on the the next table vailiantly trying to revive a mobilephone dropped in their pitcher of Woo Woo.
Put it this way, when I searched my own blog for last year’s post, I typed in “Gomorrah” by accident.
Anyway, here’s the salted caramel brownie.
No, she didn’t share. I didn’t dare ask.