5pm now in Bath, and most of us had have enough after overdosing on flat Bass and sours (not in the same glass).
Only five pubs over six hours, but the fatal absence of lunch was coming home to roost. Time for tea.
Some of the shops on the walk back to the station looked decidedly odd. “When you’re all out of bubblegum” says the sign, surely a metaphor for our time.
We paused, briefly, at Top 100 pub the Old Green Tree, to wonder how we’d missed it off our schedule,
and instead nipped in the Raven. You’ll remember the Raven;
I believe Keir’s offence last year was complaining about the absence of Bass, but we’d had our fill of Bass and were happy with a local house beer that was cool, rich and dark, as good (NBSS 4) as anything all day (except the Bass, obvs).
The bar is tight but cosy, and packed with cheery drinkers.
In Sheffield, it would be the Rutland. In Manchester, the City Arms. A classic town centre beer pub. Paul could have had the pizza here, but was worried about missing his train.
And I had to nip up the stairs (quite steep by now) to see the keg selection.
“Can I take a picture yet” ? Beer names get wackier by the day, don’t they ?
Sadly, it is NEVER okay to take pictures in pubs.
Instead, I waited the 11 minutes till we arrived back in Bristol until I could safely take photos of street art and Singapore Fried Rice.
And was asleep by 10.