Back in Blackpool, and a largely featureless walk from the (wrong) station to Cask in Layton. Not to be confused with Cask & Tap, Tap @299b or Ma Kelly’s Cask Emporium.
While I’m on the route, I should apologise to any owls who were offended by the comparison of this stretch of wall on Talbot Road to owls. It actually looks like Dave Lee Travis.
Cask looks like a suburban micropub.
And there’s NOTHING wrong with that, as long as once inside the folk talk to you rather than sit on a high table tapping away on a laptop (like I’m doing now). I can get that at home.
In Cask, they talk to you, go “Oooh, that’s a good choice“ when you pick the Salamander, and you get to sit next to a chap whose parents ran the two Blackpool Sam Smiths pubs.
I nearly get into trouble by offering a discontinued pound coin, but the prisons round here are already full so I suspect I’d just have got community service, helping Old Folks across the road to Wetherspoons.
Anyway, Cask has bench seating, and is as warm as the beer is cool (NBSS 3.5). The Salamander is also “chewy” (I wrote), but I don’t think I can compare that with the pub.
I wondered how best I could get to Cleveleys for the Shipwreck Brewhouse, as Google Maps said “walk to the tram”, and was assured by staff the Number 9 across the road would whizz me there.
If I hadn’t asked Google Maps to avoid toll roads and buses as means of transport I’d have found that out myself.
Three blokes were waiting under the shelter, which bears that rare Shepherd Neame stamp (cask value 0.0003p). NONE of them put their arm, so I did the honours. Just as well as the three blokes just stood there, waiting for Godot. Or Poulton, which is the same thing.
I like the way this bus driver turned the engine off at each of the 27 stops on the way to Cleveleys. Idling engines kill dolphins, particularly on the Fylde coast.
Oh look. Here’s the Victoria, one of the Sam Smiths pubs the chap in Cask’s parents used to run for Sir Humphrey. Shall I stop for a pint of OBB ?
Nope. Discipline, dear boy.