Perhaps best not to do them all after 3 pints in the Ypres,
but I did attempt to walk those off amongst the cobbles and timber,
though the truth is you can walk the walls in 2 minutes,
in which time you’ll come to an inviting hotel bar that you’ll need to check on What Pub just in case it sells cask.
Oh, it does. And I really fancied a Harvey’s.
Two gentleman drinkers in one corner, a group of French tourists in the other appreciating the jazz.
One of the French group approached the bar and asked for a glass of milk.
and paid the £1.50 on his card. The last person I saw drink milk in a pub was 5 years old.
I didn’t expect much from the Sussex Best in a small hotel bar, but it was…
(FAB = NBSS 3.5, cool and rich).
I made more notes here than at any pub this year, the well-dressed and erudite Old Boys being a pubgoer’s dream.
“It dawns on me, I have lost..fifty p !”
“Did you get home safely and sensibly last night ? (pause) I sense not“.
It was nonsense, it was magical, but I suddenly realised I was ******, so I did the only thing possible, and had a Guinness.
Back at the caravan, Mrs RM had made her own plans.