In Stoke with a bed for the night, a Chinese takeaway selected, and my new GBG entry already ticked.
But it’s barely evening. Let’s do the Hanley classics.
And that’s the problem when you lack discipline as a ticker. You convince yourself that the Albion with its lone Pedi pump must be a pre-emptive chance. And it looks so inviting.
This time I press on, drawn by the bright lights of Winter Wonderland,
but it was inexplicably closed, denying me the chance to compare the authentic German bar with Sheffield‘s sterling effort.
OK, it’s the Coachmakers then, the pub that survived the attempt to turn it into a car park.
I note that their Twitter account is followed by 3 of the greatest human beings on earth*; Tom Irvin, Simon Everitt and Roger Protz. And now they’re joined by me.
A third visit, confirming it as one of the great pubs, attracting what the GBG often calls “a melting pot of humanity“. The room on the right is buzzing, and packed, so I’m confined to the snug.
Which is no hardship, as the landlord gives me more attention than Mrs RM does, and is more interesting on the subject of pubs and Bass. Who knows, perhaps he knows more about IT, too ?
He could sense my mild devastation at the news that the Coachmakers had no Bass supplies. You might not believe this, but the Lymestone Ein Stein was as good a sub as Fernandinho coming on for Rodri on Tuesday at the Etihad.
The Lymestone pump had a label saying “£3.20” which I thought might be a special offer, but it was more a warning that it wasn’t the usual £3 at which Butty Bach was flying out to the room opposite.
Despite the lack of company, when I came to leave I found I couldn’t, and succumbed to the bottle.
“It’s made in Lancashire you know !” said the landlord. I knew, and it tastes nothing like Draught Bass from Burton, but needs must and I needed to give you a great photo of the red triangle.
And then I needed the Gents.
*In at least one of those cases I use the term “human” loosely.