16th January 2020 (still)
No, I couldn’t resist it.
Particularly since it involved an impersonation of Joker on the way down to The Moor.
My third trip to the Seven Stars, all since the Rev John Barrington Bennetts died. 5 points if you know what makes the Rev unique.
In 2020, the year that Wickingman saves Bass, all you need for a post is a picture of Bass and a random quote from an Old Boy, which could be yourself. That’s just as well, as these photos are my ropiest since the last Sam Smiths pub.
There was a tremendous smell of curry as I approached the door, probably from the Nepalese restaurant I’m waiting for Dick and Dave (happy retirement) to review.
January is a bit quiet, as
bores folk who never go to the pub anyway compete to tell us how much they’re not going to the pub.
That silliness doesn’t apply to the folk who frequent the Seven Stars.
You can trust a pub with GBG stickers obscuring the windows.
You can trust a pub where everyone is older than you.
And you can trust a pub where they served Draught Bass from the barrel.
I took a photo of the Bass being decanted and received a polite inquiry as to what I was doing.
“Don’t mind me I just take photos of Bass being poured” I said, unconvincingly, but he seemed convinced.
It was very good, cool and rich (NBSS 3.5) with a natural head (discuss).
And it got better, and the chaps at the bar seemed to be putting it back quicker than me, so I had to have another one to catch up. Don’t try this with Lees Harvest Ale.
And don’t read anything into this photo, either.
That second pint was nectar, and went down so quick the Old Boy on my right gave me a funny look.
At the bar, a well-dressed raconteur was telling us about the greats (not BRAPA). His mother had dined with Tommy Trinder, probably without Bass. I have a feeling that Mr Everitt Snr would love this place.
“But what about the Bass tat ?” you ask.
Perhaps not as much as I remember, but they do have a proper machine selling those sweets that break your teeth, so fair’s fair.
Rarely have I felt so cosy, and would have stayed for a third Bass, but that curry smell that wafted in when Tommy Trinder man left reminded me I need to eat. Urgently.