After checking in at the astonishingly good Motel Air I got the evening under way.
Beer, curry, football, architecture, in the company of pub royalty. What more could anyone want on their birthday ? I even had Baa Baa Toure with me back at the motel.
Duncan had a new craft bar he wanted me to visit, tucked in the backstreets behind the station.
Paisley Craft Beer shuts at 18:00, has no cask or even any draft beer, and has the most unprepossessing exterior of any bar on the trip.
But it also had Palma Violets,
and an astonishing fridge full of beer.
It’s a formula that works at Bar Stewards and Pangolin to name two local beer shops, and the beer range was superb (for folk who like beer).
I couldn’t make up my mind, the place was closing in 10 minutes, so I picked a can with the words of the last song I’d heard. And Tempest is Scottish, none of that foreign muck from Cheltenham.
Could have been worse. Is there a beer called “(It’s all about the) Bass” ?
It was only as I sat down I noticed it was 11.2%, oh ****, there goes sensible times.
It was remarkable, I nearly ordered a pint for Duncan, but with 90 minutes to go before kick-off I thought I’d get that tick.
I don’t know if this pic reflects the effect of an 11.2% Imperial
Stout Brown Ale, or how I made it to the Northern Way.