It seems you lot are sceptical about my enthusiasm for Barnsley, which is your loss. It was so good I dragged Mrs RM back the very next night, of which more later.
Before I resume on South Yorkshire’s party capital, know some of you follow the blog for my Mumsnet highlights, so here’s today’s crackers;
“I have started drinking on the odd week night just to live my life, that is not right !”
“If you have small children, do they/you have pudding after dinner? If so then what? Do you have the same thing?“
RetiredMartin says : That’s actually fine, and it’s not OK to have the same thing EVERY night. Hope that helps.
Let’s get back to posh(ish) Barnsley, across from the A & E.
The Miners Rest, which I shall shortly start calling the Miner’s Arms to annoy Will, has the massive advantage of a bowling club for a beer garden.
I’m more taken by the John Smiths livery; is this the day I find a first pint of John’s Cask Bitter since 2019 ?
Well, no, but after gaining the attention of one of the regulars who seems to double up as a landlord I get a pint of Bradfield Blonde that’s worth the wait (cool, foamy, crisp NBSS 3.5).
Always slightly awkward when you commandeer a table for four, and then have to offer it up to all the subsequent groups coming in, but there’s plenty of space around the green,
Friendly folk, slightly taken aback by the southerner drinking the weird “real ale”. If I’d come later I could have had exotica like 6X and Ghost Ship, says the landlord. I tell him I like John Smiths Cask and he looks at me as if I’ve told him I lick handpumps.
All the talk is of fishing, and the race for the Premiership. The Tykes are 6th in the Championship, looking to replace City in the UK Super League set up to thwart the evil European Super League (R.I.P.).
“I want 4th place, and to avoid Barnsley in the play-offs” said the Tykes fan, confusingly.
Be careful what you wish for, Barnsley fans. The Prem is an evil place.
Arms Rest is a bastion of mature socialising, until S Club 7’s “Reach for the stars” come on and Barnsley Mick shouts “Are ya tekin the mick ?“.
As is obligatory, I photograph the lone shoe outside;
And then head back into town, where the queue for the lone Spoons is a mile long and the public loos closed.
So I have to find another pubs, don’t I ?