I’ve just been enjoying a pint or four with two Old Boys from Mangotsfield and North Watford who seemed astonished I could name a pub in their home towns.
Being a GBG ticker is clearly the best way to financial ruin, self-actualisation and an encyclopaedic knowledge of the UK.
I know more about Ferryside in Carmarthenshire than you.
But less than Wiki, which tells me it “originated as a landing-place on the ferry route to Llansteffan (the ferry was used by Giraldus Cambrensis in 1188), Ferryside developed as a fishing village. In 1844 the population of the parish was 895.”
More importantly, I fell asleep there in May, waiting for the Joiners Arms in Llansaint to open at 18:00. What sort of pub opens at 6pm ?
Anyhow, Ferryside is quiet but picturesque, with view across to Llansteffan Castle inbetween the train to Llanelli trundling past.
It’s clearly all happening here, or it was at the Classic Club in 2020 before something inexplicable happened.
Has anyone ever been to the White Lion ? I haven’t.
My GBG pub is a couple of miles up the road along tiny lanes and Mrs RM is a bit fraught but wait till she gets to Devon. Then she’ll be scared.
17:58. We’re actually beaten into the Joiners by two ladies who had the audacity to be in front of us in the queue.
It’s got big tables.
That’s because it’s a dining pub. Mrs RM grabs one, and by 18:04 she’s getting stares as the whole village is queueing at the bar for tables for four for tea.
We decide to rush my pint of Jemima’s Pitchfork, a line I never thought I’d say, so as not to annoy the diners who keep the village pub open (albeit from 18:00). To be fair, it’s cool and rich (NBSS 3) and the landlord is an old school, no nonsense, gem.
But we want to be in Llanelli before nightfall, no idea why, we just do.