Still on Friday night 11 days ago, shamefully, and a rickety train trip (£5 return) from Fareham to one of England’s lesser-known islands.
Well, I didn’t know Portsmouth was an island till 2014, and I’ve been there 2 dozen times.
The train passes Fratton, where Portsmouth and Lincoln City are debating the finer points of Pompey’s 4-2 mid-table end-of-season win.
I’m studying what BRAPA had to say about my new tick;
Sounds great, doesn’t it ?
It’s a lovely evening for a walk* to the North End, through the horrors of the shopping centres, the cobbled streets housing Charles Dickens birthplace,
and the contrasts between brutalism and beauty alone Mile End Road.
Blimey, they don’t make GBG pubs like this anymore (except this one).
Courage Best or Directors, cash only, no airs and graces, bewildered dog drinking Newcy Brown.
Obviously I loved it as much as Prince, whose Sexy Maritime Fratton shook the walls.
In all honesty, the Directors (£4.10, it’s no Craft Union) was a marginal NBSS 3, tasty but possibly not flying out the pumps,
but I couldn’t have been happier.
And it’s nice to see Pompey folk being as questioning of authority as ever…
*Some folk, including much of beer twitter, would consider this an “edgy” walk, akin to the stroll from Birmingham New Street to the Barton’s Arms, and take a taxi. Be brave…