I felt fine on Friday morning, just like the Beatles song released a month before my birth, but still hung around to admire Preston over too many flat whites before setting off home for a break from beer. Like BRAPA, I know my limits.
A stop in Uttoxeter for fuel seemed a good idea, till I realised I’d have to walk past this;
Actually, I think it was closed (either that or a 1pm lock-in pre-empting the next lockdown).
No Bass, but the next best thing. Quinoa salad and raspberry soda in the Spoons.
An overworked waitress delivered the salad to the table opposite, causing offence and distress to a family from Kiddlestitch whose meal consisted of chips, pie and lager.
They also took the hump with a table of ladies (a number below 7) who had the loudest laughs outside of Laughterton.
It was annoyingly loud, and could have formed the basis for one of those scary rides at Alton Towers, but I love old folks’ laughter post/pre Lockdown.
I’d probably have loved the Smithfield Hotel, with 2 mobility scooters and 2 classic pub windows, but I’ll just have to save those up for a day that Stafford Paul can join me on a Proper Pub Day Out.
Out-Door Department ?