You left us in the Vaults, literally, with a cardboard box full of “jerk chicken pizza” and no doubt a guilt complex about the cultural appropriation.
One more pub, preferably one with an outside garden so we didn’t need to carry a ton of pizza round the one way system.
SEVEN pubs for 3,835 lost souls, quite a useful ratio, with the Vault and the yoof dominated Ellesmere Hotel seeming the busiest.
The Market and Black Lion out on Scotland Street looked attractive but too quiet to smuggle doughy products in, even with the temptation of “local” beer.
I stopped to admire the singular experience of The Swan.
“You go in. If you want. I can wait outside”said Mrs RM, who had clearly read my blogpost from 2017, and seen the photos.
Mrs RM was transfixed by the Pole Dancing In A Van, but sadly it was keg only.
Which left the Red Lion, my B&B from that erroneous 2017 visit,
and the White Hart, the other Guide entry down lovely Birch Road.
Like say, Knighton or Presteigne, Ellesmere is one of those small border towns with pubs unchanged by time, now forced to add handwash, take new-fangled mobile numbers, and add arrows to ancient floors.
On the way out I got completely lost and ended up in a locked car park, mimicking my first ever date at the Regal (Pretty in Pink) when my trip to the loo saw me inadvertently leave the cinema by the fire exit into the street.
Mrs RM laughed as I jumped the fence, but made the same error when she headed for the loo.
Oh, what japes.
Decent* beer from New Brew, whoever they are, and a dozen or so of our age group or thereabouts, plus one peeping tom….
Not bad. Not bad at all for a cheap night out, we thought.
Can’t promise sunsets like this EVERY night though.
*£2.70 a pint