A long walk back from Carlton Hill to Nottingham, almost falling at the first hurdle as I spotted an obvious pre-emptive tick…
But I made it back, still dry, as far as Sneinton, home of a windmill I’ve never seen and birthplace of William Booth, which I’ve never visited. I advised Blackpool Jane to do the Sally Army trail on her Nottingham crawl (which I consulted extensively), but she did the rude golf instead. That’s Blackpool for you.
The great founder of the Salvation Army bears no relation to the King William IV pub, now sort of renamed the King Billy.
Now, I know I’ve been here twice and last time, quite recently, I named it a Top 100 pub (No. 277 I think).
But can I find it on my blog ?
So here’s a third trip. It really is a must.
Perhaps 14:30 on a Wednesday isn’t the Golden Hour for the Billy; I’d advise 19:30, but it’s ticking over with gentlefolk, blokes and students, which covers 87% of potential pub visitors.
There’s nothing really strong I can have a pint of and regret so I just have a half of Citra as that’s what’s on the beer mats (that’s how my, and I suspect BRAPA’s, mind works).
Micropubs can look very sparse; the Billy couldn’t be more cluttered.
Let’s head straight to the Gent’s, shall we, the best since the Beer Seller in Tonbridge.
It’s one of those great pubs that folk don’t go to for cask but it serves good cask anyway, if you know what I mean. I guess Stockport’s Olde Vic is a good comparator.
The landlady made a young Citra couple coming in to play pool feel like family, and gave some birthday cake to the Carling couple on the next table. If she’d offer me a slice I’d have given that Citra an extra 0.5.
Oh, nearly forgot the photo of a famous pub ticker visiting the Miners Welfare Club in Grimesthorpe.