retiredmartin

September 2023. Farnborough.

The night was young, but my ticking was complete. What else did Farnborough have to offer the intrepid tourist ?

Well, the Harvester next door to the Premier Inn where Mrs RM was beavering away on VAT returns had Doom Bar, the Travelodge housed a GBG Spoons, and somewhere near that airstrip there was an expensive gastropub.

Oh, and in the garden shed of a small hotel stands a Goat. In a garden.

Didn’t there use to be a famed beer house, the Prince of Wales ?. Couldn’t see it on the GBG App. Is it closed ? Has it changed hands ?

Oh, there it is, hiding under the label for my tick, away to the east of town, past some increasingly smart housing.

Ain’t it grand ?

No light shines as bright as the light from a busy back street pub.

But the beer range looked a bit more familiar than expected.

Not that I cared, but had Fullers done a “Harp” on it, I wondered. I got talking to a chatty young couple from “the college”. Who knew they had colleges in North Hants ?

The chap had never been before, the lady knew it, so I directed my questions at her. She seemed surprised I was revisiting after a 20 years break.

“Has it changed hands ?”. No idea, and to be fair there’s no obvious sign.

“Is your Summer Lightning cool ?“. Was that a personal question ?. I sensed I’d overstepped the mark.

The Summer Lightning was cool, and rich (3.5), and I was glad to catch it for the first time this year in our Indian Summer. I should have asked the lady for her NBSS scores, really.

A chap on the table opposite had splayed his bags and papers on the only spare table and very generously moved them onto his own to let me sit down.

Him and his mates were discussing hops, and beer festivals. It was very dull.

“I’ve got to entertain a couple of vegans” said one. I had no answer so kept my counsel.

It seemed a great pub (again), full of little rooms with folk of all ages, and an ultra-rare John Smiths picture on the wall. Simply furnished, completely gorgeous.

I really shouldn’t have, but I stopped for a half of ESB.

It was a great decision, though of course a pint would have been a better one (NBSS 3.5+).

Mrs RM phoned. She’d finished her VAT return. I thought about dragging her out to join me on the benches, but unfortunately a packet of crisps wasn’t sufficient for tea.

She could have had scratchings if she’d asked nicely.