Some short, sharp posts for you at the moment, due to the fact that I’m entertaining in-laws from Tunbridge Hell who are staying nearby for fourteen (14) nights and can only blog while pretending to boil the kettle.
They’d had a hellish journey up from the south as an accident left the A14 closed after a van deposited its load of tomato puree, creating an instant horror film set.
Back last Wednesday in Pontefract, Leon and I were still looking for a last pint before catching a train homeward.
Having checked ALL the pubs in turn and done that “No cask, walk out” so beloved of CAMRAs, we gave in and popped in the Spoons.
You’ll remember the Broken Bridge that Curry Charles so loved in 2019.
It’s the one with the John Smiths dartboard.
We had 15 minutes to check in, order a beer, drink a beer, go to the loo twice and run the 7 minutes for the train.
Normal people don’t do that, but (with all due disrespect) Leon and I aren’t normal people, we’re pros.
Yes, the Elland beers have gone; it’s Greene King or Spitfire and another one that was even duller hidden behind white shirt guy.
6 minutes gone, the pint arrives.
8 minutes gone, pints hardly touched, Leon goes to the loo.
9 minutes gone, Leon finishes that Spitfire (a 3, at best) in 2 swigs and in the same movement and heads for the door.
In 2021, pubs (especially Proper Pubs like Spoons) need drinkers, not sippers.
Somehow we made it to Tanshelf Station (one more Ponte station to collect the set) with seconds to spare, but I had aged 7 years in the process.