Mrs RM is determined to help me round my remaining 334 GBG ticks so that I can accompany her to places that don’t have “dingy Old Men’s pubs“. She means you, Bridgwater.
We turned our attentions to Wiltshire, and Mrs RM hovered patiently in the Co-op while I popped in the Hop Kettle, a place I really should have done when I spent an expensive night in Swindon Old Town a mere 6 months ago.
Well, obviously it was closed Tuesday, wasn’t it ? Never trust What Pub (except in the South Lakes).
But I did at least manage to read the entry policy for TREE nightclub, a future GBG entry in waiting.
“Funky, fashionable and glamorous“. Baa Baa Toure may make it in, but not me. Anyway, doesn’t everyone in Swindon wear combat gear ?
Mrs RM pretended to be disappointed as I trudged back to the campervan, then drove on to Marlborough 20 minutes south,
For the 3rd successive visit, The Marl, as no-one calls it, was cold and wet, so I was dispatched to do the Wellington Arms alone.
“Sunny Courtyard” ?
Oooh, Ramsbury, local beers then.
Though I don’t think the Ramsbury Gold will be flying out with competition like this;
Now I can’t say Ramsbury would be my go-to brewery, it probably sits alongside Andwell on an imaginary league table, but I felt I had to go Locale even though I knew it was a mistake.
The taste of diacetyl hit me, and I wrote down a 2.5 I quickly revised to 2, even a I thought “What a lovely pub“, a basic boozer in a smart town.
Blokes, beams and boring cup ties.
One chap listed his 3 cars; Range Rover, Land Rover and MX5 and I realised I wasn’t in Sheffield anymore.