I know you’re always keen to know where I am when I write this rubbish.
This post comes to you from the deserted Travelodge on the M18/M180, a short but scary walk from my final South Yorkshire tick.
The bus from Peterhead to Fraserburgh was less scary, but who knows what Scottish pubs will spring on us.
Another great fishing port, one I’d assumed a bit more upmarket than Peterhead.
But. I dunno. It’s no Southwold.
Some grey granite, some Perth like wide boulevards, and that was that, bar the inevitable “greenery growing from buildings”.
It was lovably scruffy in parts, with a fair share of flat roof boozer magic for BeerMat to explore.
Neither the Kenyan or the Bellsea were in the Guide.
Instead we get the grandest hotel in town converted to a Spoons.
Some nice seating options, but few Professional Drinkers to break the monotony of middles-aged munchers.
Goff’s Dark Knight was today’s English invader, a rich tart NBSS 3. Though by tart I mean sour. So who knows?
One of the dullest Spoons experiences in a while, but every token used saves pubs as Cooking Lager will point out.
The highpoint was the display of Doodle and Games by Emilu, 7, visiting from Inverallochy.
Luckily the rare non – Spoons tick was anything but dull.
The Elizabethan is the sort of seaside estate pub that will never grace the Guide. Except in Great Yarmouth.
I know micros serve weird homebrew and micros serve the guvnor’s mates, but there’s a real joy about going in a sprawling estate pub that only BeerMat really knows.
It took a while to find the bar, and the lone Red Smiddy was well hidden behind the charity box.
Despite it being the lone pump the Landlady, disturbed from her fag break, turned it round to make sure it was the right one, rather than a BrewDog saison.
She also pulled it through, giving me a decent Kelburn (NBSS) to enjoy alongside the Mary Black soundtrack.
Just time for the street art before the bus.