Thanks to Ethelred for the title; the usual pint of Doom Bar winging its way to you as soon as they start canning it as a craft beer.
Well, my attempts to speed up Shifnal are going about as fast as the town itself. Not very.
A Banks’s house of the old but loveably scruffy persuasion,
The Golden Hour clearly starts early in the Wheatsheaf, whose pub snacks collection would have looked more enticing if we weren’t stuffed with fish and chips.
All human life was here. Perhaps that’s the advantage of not having a Spoons in town.
An unusually eclectic music mix included early O’Jays, and these two;
Big band, soul and alt-folk. No prog for Mudgie, mind.
At some point I managed to take this photo of Stafford Paul’s famous maps, strangely reminiscent of the AA guides to away grounds published in Coventry City programmes in 1972.
With it not being in the Guide, it was clear the Wheatsheaf would produce my beer of the day, and so it was. 3.5 for the Mild.
We didn’t want to leave, and ten minutes later we wished we hadn’t.