We left the Cock, wishing we’d tried the (cheaper) local beers. It’ll be in the GBG22, I guess, if the GBG lasts that long with CAMRA members seemingly bored of visiting pubs.
Just as well Charles and BRAPA and Duncan and I aren’t bored of visiting pubs (reminds me, must score the beer on WhatPub).
“Look at that” whispered Charles. He knows how the blog works by now.
I was just in time, You don’t see a Miles Hunt lookalike everyday (Quinno will get that).
Last time we popped in The Bull, an old-fashioned Greene King house with a Terry Jacks playlist.
It looked even smarter, but lots of signs said “Beware“, “Not this way” and “Be alert” and we left it to the gentlefolk.
Instead we headed for the nation’s saving grace.
Not tonight, as the gentlefolk are staying firmly behind closed doors. It must have been half full.
It feels a different pub. No detritus, clean surfaces, no bar fly bores, less silly beers.
OK, one silly beer.
We went outside to the expanded garden so we could be with folk our own age.
Pints of foaming Abbot (3.5) and that Wolf charity beer (Charles never learns, does he ?) were unwisely followed by a Punk IPA and a can of that Oakham Inception that may be the best new brew in Spoons for years.
With the hum of a mobile refrigeration unit for company, and the joy of having been able to use the Spoons App despite being ancient, bliss it was in that time to be alive.
But Charles had booked curry for 8. And it was only 7.
NB Who knew ‘Arry Cripps came from Dereham ?