retiredmartin

Where were we ?

Ah. The Three Tuns. I decided three pubs was enough for the night, leading to a furious debate about whether that alone could constitute “a pub crawl“. No, said Will, and he was my Pub Man of 2021 so I bow to his executive decision.

I left Will to his craft stash,

and his hopes and dreams, which look like they’ve gone the way of City’s Premier League dreams tonight.

Back home, I needed to get Mrs RM out of the office (she’s just set up a home office with inspirational sayings so it feels like she’s working in Maidenhead or something).

“Fancy tea in the Blind Monkey ?“. “Yes !“

We’re getting very dull, popping in our local non-GBG “speakeasy” themed boozer most weeks. We never went in the Sun that often. Unlike the Sun, where you could predict who’d be in there, there are always different visitors to the Blind Monkey.

I even have a favourite seat, from which I can watch that astonishing Rangers display and ignore Mrs RM’s questions about my views on the office.

Many will think the Blind Monkey overdone, and showy, but not us. Perhaps we’re overdone and showy.

I like their music choice,

and their bench seating,

and the authentic gas lighting,

and Mrs RM and James enjoy the pizzas and the Beavertown (though the Magic Rock they had before was better).

And the music-themed Don Valley cask is good enough, though surpassed this time by that sensational can of stout that brought an end to the evening. Less fizzy than the Gamma Ray, and perhaps better than the cask.

OK, it’s not the cask shrine that is the Blake or the Wellington or the Kelham Island Tavern, but sometimes we don’t need an ale shrine, we need pizza and a Scottish victory in Dortmund.