
An exciting Wednesday saw a sustained assault on the Beer Guide pubs of West Wiltshire, though how any trip that comes within 3 miles of Bath’s Star and doesn’t pop in for Bass can be considered a success is debatable.

I very nearly ventured from Bath to the Hope & Anchor in Midford last month, but a) it involved a bus journey getting there and b) it involved a bus journey back.
My GBG newbie is on the Sustrans route and offers sweeping views to bucolic Trowbridge (not pictured).

Despite the sign, the pub is nowhere near the sea, which counts as misleading dispense on CAMRA Discourse.

The car park looked full, but it seems the Easter hordes were just using it for walks rather than the pub, which was empty. It was only 11:50, mind; not everyone has our vigour.
More debatable colour schemes in a place set out for eating,

in sharp contrast to this painting from its golden days as a boozer.

Still three handpumps on the bar, but only one in use, serving that well-known beer from Westbury.

Just because it’s the only beer doesn’t mean it’s going to taste any good, a watery 2 I reckon.
But pubs are rarely about real ale these days. The WiFi is working,


At 12:15 there’s just us. By 12:30 there’s a dozen other diners, most of them frightfully posh gentlefolk who remember each others normal drinks orders. Who has a “normal” drinks order ?
“Ice. No Lemon ! You know Mr Jenkinson TOO well !“.
It’s so naff it’s great, a bit like the soundtrack of low level soul and jazz.
Is that ELO in that montage ?
The name was assigned by earlier publicans who had a premonition about global warming. I think.
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Ooh, I love pierogi! I could forgive the horrid colour scheme and mediocre beer for a plate of that.
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So could I ! Sometimes you just need to treat a pub as a restaurant and not worry about the faults.
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I must admit to never having heard of them and that’s despite Stafford having had quite a large Polish population all my life.
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I think I saw them on a menu in a Polish owned pub in Southampton once, Paul.
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I first had them from a street food stall at Bristol’s uber-hip Tobacco Factory market where I used to work a stall.
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What did you sell on your stall, Bill ? Snuff ?
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Just cakes, I’m afraid, when Mrs B had her cake empire.
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