The nature of this blog is you get the warts and all of England, with and without pubs.
I’m not saying Fareham is a wart on the Behind Of Hampshire, though of course I just have.
It is to that county what Hemel is to Herts, what Bracknell is to Berks. Unexpectedly expensive, leaving residents of much derided Gosport to wonder why THEIR town gets so much flack.
I arrived in Bath Street at 8.30am, looking for somewhere to drink the coffee bought 30 minutes ago on Eastney beach and still as hot as the sun.
40 minutes free or 80p by the hour? Always take the free time.
Folks, it’s just a long high street. And in early July, a deserted high street.
But it’s pedestrianised and tidy and if retiredmartin ever needed to buy, say, a pink marker pen he’d not hesitate to buy it from the pound shop in Fareham.
On my visit a decade ago I gave the nod of approval to the town museum, and a lovely library where staff eyed me suspiciously as I read the final 200 pages of “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” waiting for my tick to open.
And, folks. it has TWO Wetherspoons a few strides apart, like a middle class Mansfield.
The Crown is smart, the one named after a local insurance salesman or summat more workaday.
I like them both. A few years ago the Crown served a pint of that BrewDog Edge (2.8%) I scored nearly as high as the Doom Bar last week.
The only other central GBG entry is the “Pride drinking well” Fullers pub that could have been moved here from Belgravia, where its locals would be astounded to get a pint under a fiver.
If you DO stay here, the Trafalgar looks a good bet but probably won’t make my cheap sleeps guide.
I would have taken a picture of a bacon roll from the authentic Ye Olde bakery, but the one in, one out risked overstaying my 40 minutes, and you’ve had too much excitement anyway.