I’ll be blunt.
If you put the (56 x 12) 632 months I’ve been on the earth in a list ranging from BEST to WORST then November 2020 would be in the bottom 3, rescued only by the pigs in blankets at Pret,
a decent sunset or two,
and four days at the start of the month when I made hay with the new GBG.
Thirteen pubs in that first few days of the month, including NINE new GBG ticks. A paltry return, but I beat BRAPA(eight, ha), and that’s all that matters these days.
London looked both sad and magnificent, and provided the New Pub of the Month in the Ring, a proper one room boozer near Southwark station.
I rarely rave about beer, but the Harp was as good as it gets, and the Dark Star APA (take that, Hophead) was beer of the Month.
Though the farewell pint of local Milton in my own local wasn’t far off.
Since then I’ve had a pint of Milton Nero on takeout with Crispy Beef, a glass of Malbec watching Suits, and a mild celebratory session last night after the resolution of a complex tree dispute.
3 craft cans and a BBB from Tesco. You lose track of how strong those (D)IPAs are. I felt dreadful this morning (Mrs RM was fine), and I’d have preferred a pint of Doom Bar in a Craft Union while blokes grumbled about ‘arry Kane.
It’s going to be awful. Indiana might want me bit Cornwall does, so it’s a Rev Geraldine type scenario of me stuffing three “substantial” meals down me to get a mere three ticks, Frankly, three scotch eggs may be worse.
Anyway, I’ve shared my embryonic ambitions for the return of pubs (2) with you, but to be frank I may find myself a bit distracted by events yet to be confirmed in December.
We shall see.
*should probably adjust for 7 days spent in Maidenhead tbh