I have a confession to make. For my next trip, I took a bus.
Mountsorrel boasta granite quarries and canalside pubs, a visit by John Wesley, one of only 3,729 villages in which Wesley preached (I’ve been to 2,807 of them), and some great hillside views;
And there’s this weird Neolithic graffiti; I can only discern “No, please”.
Such confusion was evident in the Sorrel Fox, a neat and tidy if modern brewery tap for Charnwood Brewery,
where the chat was all about 21 July, the date when a local had just heard we would DEFINITELY be tearing down the perspex and ripping up the one way systems to once again lick handpumps legally.
I confess, I was sceptical about his optimism and over a Salvation (a crisp NBSS 3) and Sausage Roll combo turned to the more pressing matter of a blog post title.
“Soaring to GBG Salvation” I wondered. But where is the River Soar. I didn’t know.
The lady behind the bar was off the Aberystwyth, a place called “Gogyno” or something.
I DID know that. “Ah, the Druid at Goginon !” I said. “You’ll love it“. I’m sure she did.