retiredmartin

TWO (2) Lion pubs for you tonight, because I’m feeling generous.

SPOILET : Guernsey is the prettier town, but Jersey has the better pubs.

The Golden Lion prompted me to write “Oh dear”.

“A scruffy Smith & Jones”, I noted. Don’t think you’ll impress me with your three handpumps (and three flavoured ciders), mate.

Note to self : You don’t HAVE to go for the local beer (NBSS 2) when you know everyone else is drinking lager.

Actually, at 6pm on Saturday night there was hardly anyone drinking anything. And no-one else was seated, always a bad sign.

But the only thing of note is the sign saying “NO WI-FI. TALK TO EACH OTHER” while some thumping tuneless house gets turned up to 11, making conversation impossible. Simon will unexpectedly love it.

The walk along the Promenade to the Red Lion takes me past some better looking pubs,

a view out to Herm,

and the offices of Ernst & Young.

By the time I reach the Red Lion I’m dreaming of an early night and a Chinese takeaway,

but the Red Lion re-energises me, all real boozer, noisy children, and meat raffle.

Sadly, it’s full of Liverpool fans (I believe the Scouse losers are playing Madrid in the Mickey Mouse cup) and I have to sit outside with my unexpected pint of Pedigree.

No.99 meats the meat raffles (“Well done, Nathan !“), Madrid win the Mickey Mouse cup, I score the Pedi a 2.5.

Only one (1) winner there.

On the long walk back (why are there so few bushes in Guernsey ?) to our hotel in Rohais Mrs RM has a breakdown;

I forgot the bottle. And the cheese. But I did get a NCTSS 3 crispy beef and Singapore rice from Rohais chippy, bang next to the golf club where folk in dinner jackets stared at me, appalled on my return.

Tomorrow, Sark.