Into Mid Wales, always a bundle of fun, both the pubs and the opening hour traumas.
Despite the occasional pashmina mum at the Machynlleth Alternative Tech place (it’s mostly toilets), I really like this blob of hilly villages between the Brummy seaside and Offa’s Dyke.
Sadly this post is a bit short on the tourist shots, though this one from Corris will give you the idea. That entire forest will be pulped to make all the future GBGs BRAPA will need to tick.
The “good apart from high tables” Slater Arms in Corris has a canine presence to trip up the short-sighted,
and a youth with an extraordinarily long pizza order for collection in 3 hours time. At least 7 minutes, I reckon, and then he takes away a double whisky in a plastic cup to take away.
Which leaves me standing at the bar with silver in hand, in clear breach of the sign.
I’m the only customer, after the bored canine,
but with a group of pizza’d up lads drinking whisky 3 hours later I suspect it’s a riot. Remember to plan all your pub trips for 6.30 pm on a Saturday, ticking kids (not New Mills, it’ll be closed).
Down the road, the Dovey Valley Hotel on Cemmaes Road had long been on my “Classic pub still to do list“, What Pub saying “Unmissable, but obviously to be treated with respect“, which sound like Mrs RM to me.
Mid Wales and the Marches are still full of these pubs “which evoke a vanished but still resonant way of life“, and the Dovey deserves a BRAPA write-up sooner rather than later.
I had a chat about the lack of pork scratchings I suddenly craved; harder to get hold of than Bass, apparently, and a crisp Mantle seemed a bit out of place in a timeless bar that should get serve Worthington, and the banter with the Old Boy touched on the Vitamin C giving qualities of chips made with unpeeled potatoes.
And it all felt a bit magical, but I just knew I’d never capture it. Perhaps Stafford Paul knows it, and can feel in the gaps.