…but not a drop to drink, as I was driving, so I just get a sip to confirm the NBSS for the official record. I know this makes me a hypocrite as I’ve said a pint’s a taster but there you go.
4th February 2023.
Having completed Derbyshire, thoughts turned to an afternoon of invigorating Peak walking.
Instead, we ended up eating Hartington cheese and drinking Bass in the Moorlands.
No pics from Hartington, where the eponymous shop I visited with Curry Charles in 2019 was closing at 3pm (very micro) and selling discounted chocolate cheese.
“Chocolate !!! I like my beer to taste like beer and my cheese to taste like cheese” says Mrs RM, who really ought to have been born in Yorkshire.
We had a bit of cheese and chutney (well, the footwell of the campervan did) and 5 minutes later were parked up outside the Greyhound in one street Warslow, after a satisfying stretch of road I’d never done before.
Someone was pleased to be in the GBG.
If the Greyhound sounds familiar, it’s because Duncan wrote about it last week.
When I was young (52) I dreamed of being the Pubmeister. But now I AM Pubmeister, for a year anyway, and I get to steal Duncan’s marvellous blog photos.
Look how much better Duncan’s photos are than mine, and how the staff smile at him as he says that eight (8) beers isn’t enough and can they put some more on.
But my shot has something Duncan’s hasn’t got.
You guessed it.
We’d entered to a huge cheer I assumed was the tapping of the Bass cask, but turned out to be 20 lads in the pool room watching England play “rugby” (no, me neither).
I bought Mrs RM a local pork pie to go with her Bass and knew immediately this wasn’t going to be a good day for the diet.
But who cares ?
The Greyhound was packed with villagers (not much tourist trade evident in the Moorlands), the Bass seemed plenty good enough, the pork pie succulent, the soundtrack familiar.
And the discussion at the bar was pure drunken nonsense.
“Sheffield Wensday beat Plymouth one nil“
“They BEAT Plymouth ? It’s not half time yet ?”
“They beat !!!”
“Do you mean they BEAT. Or they’re BEATING“
“They BEATEN !”
It was clearly going on for hours, and we had more Bass to find, so we left them to it.
retiredmartin 
I can’t remember the last time I saw bass in a pub. Maybe it is more common in the Midlands?
LikeLike
Much more common; I guess historically that’s where it’s brewed and although they don’t own pubs as such there’s still decent supply lines to pub companies like Enterprise (also in the south-west to some extent).
LikeLike
Was hoping you would do a Celtic not a Leicester when it comes to successive titles. That was the bet I put on at Paddy Power when you were 18 anyway. Are you sure that is not the same Bass handpump pic you’ve used in over 800 previous blogs? We should be told.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think I’d get more blog views just posting pictures of Bass pumps and pints, though the spreadsheet post was a real winner.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Don’t blame you ending up in the Moorlands.
All this White Peak and Dark Peak stuff sounds a bit Lord Of The Rings to me.
And a Proper Pork Pie – as you evidently had – has beige to grey, and not pink meat.
Jolly good stuff.
LikeLiked by 3 people
I appreciate your pork pie expertise. It was worth the price.
LikeLike
The classic Melton Mowbray pie has grey meat, but there’s nothing wrong with a pork pie with pink cured meat either, it’s just a different style. The succulence of the meat, the crispiness of the pastry, the quality and quantity of jelly – these are the really important factors in judging pork pies.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, the quantity of jelly… the less of that the better.
LikeLike
The less sodium nitrite the better too Bill.
LikeLike
That looks like Jenni and Lee Wilson-Hart behind the bar. I suspect he might be related to Clive Wilson-Hart who kept Stafford’s Nags Head from 1982 to ’92 and then the Castle Tavern until 2001.
Jenni and Lee reminds me that Jennie Lee – best known as wife of Aneurin Bevan and founder of the Open University – was my MP until 1970 and that she presented us each with a dictionary on leaving the junior school that coincidently I walked past earlier this week for the first time in ages.
LikeLiked by 1 person