April brought National Doom Bar Day, a successful attempt to derail a rival Bass celebration event. Which is ironic, as Doom tastes best in a Burton glass.
April also became my first month without a GBG tick since THIS was Number 1.
Which is ironic, really, as things would only get worse.
And not just for the Michael Jackson single (VGC) on the side of the A10, which someone bid a fiver for on E-bay.
When Lockdown came it left me agonisingly at c. 94% completion of the GBG with 6 months to go, and for a while I thought Covid was a Pubmeister plot to stop me emulating him.
But if I’m honest, and I always am, it was the loss of the Crispy Shredded Beef that hit hardest.
At least, with the season curtailed, there was no chance of a legitimate Liverpool Premiership ruining my year.
I spent April
knitting walking the Fens, capturing the wide open skies, closed pub signs and weird vegetable piles, hoping someone would still read the blog without pubs.
BUT it looked vaguely lovely, and with dolphins returning to the Cam and tourists (sadly) returning to Japan, Cambridge was worthy of exploration in the one hour allowed for exercise.
You’ll never see King’s College so quiet. Or the A10 near Taylor Towers.
I stayed off the beer. I dreamt of crispy beef. I felt awful, physically if not mentally.
And then I was told off by Blossom.
Where’s Russ when you need him ?