3rd January 2020
The big news first. Those twins from Love Island, a show about people who like visiting countries surrounded by water, are from our village ! They came to James’ birthday party once ! Media enquiries to Mrs RM.
Enough of the humping, back to the Humber and you’ll see I succumbed at the first hurdle and used my last remaining Hull blog title. Next year it’ll be variations on “Humber”, “Kingston” and “Tigers”.
Leaving the White Hart I followed the tourist trail.
At 18:11, standing outside Ye Olde Black Boy, I was suddenly taken by the thought that Hull might be the best city in the world, and that if you transported tourists from outside Betty’s or Kings or the Harp here you’d be doing them a favour.
Sounds like sea shanties to me.
Actually, all Hull needs IS more visitors. The old and new pubs were only ticking over on the first Friday of 2020. Let’s blame Dryanuary, shall we ?
Hull Minster is magnificent, standing tall behind the Sam Smiths and the Atom Tap, where I headed for a preemptive tick and some very odd Nacho Fries.
I asked for the Burnt Ends, which didn’t come, not that I had any idea what burnt ends are. I always ask for stuff I don’t recognise, unless it’s French.
“Excuse me, I think I’m missing my burnt ends” I said, meekly. He offered me a free half.
Into the Fruitmarket area, completely unrecognisable from my last visit.
More women than men in a lot of these modern beer bars, you know.
Perhaps the scariest beer board so far in the Taphouse, it actually stretched across the Humber into North Lincolnshire. I’m past caring about the beer by now but it was a 3.5, which is all that counts.
I walked round Victoria Pier. Sadly the Minerva was shut for a while, but the highlight is outside, anyway.
So, all good in Hull. But…what oh what have they done to the Green Bricks ?
And no, I didn’t pop in the Admiral for a late pint, even though it was next door to my Ibis. I have self control, you know.