retiredmartin

24th January 2023.

Rather oddly, my nearest new GBG tick was in Market Weighton near Hull. It’s not that odd, I live in Yorkshire, apparently, but still.

The journey via Goole (ALL the best trips go via Goole) takes you past agricultural supplies shops and shops selling agricultural supplies. You could be heading through the Fens to the Deepings.

And while Stamford boasts (not loudly enough) the UK’s heaviest man, Weighton has it’s tallest. William Bradley stood 7ft 9in (US : Very tall), which allowed him to see over the walls of nearby Boothferry Park and watch games for free.

He stands facing the Bay Horse, a pleasingly plain town pub in a plain town. I wondered what Simon had made of it, but found only this visit to a micropub that failed to trouble the GBG scorers.

So we’ll have to wait and see what he made of the Bay Horse, but I have my suspicions.

Enter by the door to the left and you’ll find a sea of gentlefolk called Dora and Bernard Brian, and NO tables not set for dining.

So I asked the landlady if she’d serve my pint of Landlord in the bar, forgetting that would mean I’d be on my own as obviously there was no-one there for a drink.

I made quite a few notes while the landlady summoned the landlord to pour the Landlord, but this one tells you what you need to know.

Six scatter cushions in a row. Wow.

Nice fireplace,

and, despite a horrific handled glass, a pretty good pint, cool and foamy (NBSS 3+) that passed the Tim Taylor Test.

I said “thanks“, the landlord (not the beer) said “no worries” and went back to working on his laptop.

It was quite spectacularly dull, in a pleasant way.

I tried to Shazam a song that ends “in the morning” but couldn’t and it’s haunting me now. When I was last in town, nearly six years ago, I “enjoyed with “Rocking all over the world” and “Jump” (the other one).” and I can’t remember which Jump it wasn’t now.

This one;

or

Or are they the same song ?

I finished my beer and went in search of the chips that had so delighted me in 2017.

But Harpers had gone. In fact, there were no chip shops open at all at lunchtime, which must contravene some law or other. And the bakers wouldn’t heat up the meagre looking steak pie either (health and safety) so I passed.

The pubs didn’t look in much better health,

and although they’ve got one of those neat bars with “Lounge” on the end that serve Gamma Ray it turns out to be an ice cream salon.

But you can at least buy brushes,

and Big Willy.

Someone will be pleased. Probably William Bradley.