
Time to finish the Welsh chapters of “Half A Dozen Pubs…” I reckon.

I only “completed” West Wales for the first time in 2022; seventy pubs hidden around the sprawling coast and hidden down tiny lanes in unpronounceable hamlets.

It was a magical journey. West Wales does pubs which open at 6pm and have blokes sitting round in a circle talking twaddle better than any other country.
My first five picks are a mix of seaside town and isolated village pub,

but looks a bit light on Aberystwyth, so I’m sure Sir Quinno will supply a 6th.
—–
Creswell Quay – Cresselly Arms

West Wales does isolated drinkers pubs better than anywhere in the world. It also seems to have a higher number of pubs which led folk to express “You haven’t been to the Cresselly/Towy Bridge/etc ! Blimey !!“.

One of the most beautifully situated places on the GBG journey, it felt a bit like a posh version of Pin Mill’s Butt and Oyster, and my photographic “skills” failed me entirely.

Whatever, its simplicity itself inside, with a great welcome from the young barman who told me that HUNDREDS of motorcyclists descend on this beauty spot at weekends.

The birds chirped, the domestic banter continued unabated, a cool pint of Sharps Atlantic (NBSS 3.5+) slipped down in 10 minutes.
I wish I was there now.
—–
I’d never heard of this place, tucked in tiny lanes below Carmarthen, never seen it mentioned on any blogs at all, and yet it’s a multi-award winner, Welsh National Pub of the Year even.

Flagstones, real fires, a flood of banter from bar to bench.
I made no notes, but it’s coming back to me now. A chap drinking Abbot from a personalised porcelain pot (try saying that after a dozen pints) summons me to sit on his table. Nice of him, and it means I don’t have to sit alone in the side room.

Bass mirrors, flagstones, relentless but polite banter (mostly about duck eggs), the best pint of the month (cool, crisp, NBSS 4), it was magic.

It seems it’s just been sold to new owners, too, but they had Bass on in May so who knows ?
—–

Oh, yes, I didn’t forget. How could I ?
One of the unspoilt classics;


but it seemed in good health on my last visit, the Bass nectar.

On the way to the outside loos we met a couple visiting from Bristol. They were virtually regulars. They’d even discovered the pub garden (one table), which is almost as good as the bar.
Sadly, I cannot vouch for the good character of all the visitors.

—–
The left-field choice, partly to get you to visit “Hipster Haver” (the TIC can have that for a pint of Worthy),

but because the Farmer’s demonstrates all that is good and great outside the GBG.
Just a simple town pub. Lively, friendly, quality Felinfoel,

and I almost got converted to country music over the course of the next 20 minutes, even though it’s all rubbish, obviously.

You can view the video on the original 2022 post. If you must.
“This is a Top 10 pub” I suddenly thought, possibly after hearing the words “as much cheese as you can stuff up your backside“.
“Hey, Duncan, I’m in a Top 10 pub” I texted. Duncan played along, and added it to his long list of pre-emptive ticks to do that night.

He’d deny it now, but he loved it. And as we left a bloke who’d drunk more than us stopped us at the door.
“Remember !”
“Remember what ?”
“Remember you’re a Womble”
This is why we go to pubs, rather than drinking cans of sour pumpkin DIPA in our underpants.
—–
Time to go to the beach for our fifth pub, possibly the best UK beach of all though no doubt someone will make a case for Hunstanton.

This was my first Tenby tick in 25 years when I met two of the Southworths here in 2019 on the ACTUAL day of summer. The beach pics are OK,

but somehow I forgot to record the pub, so here’s one Trip Advisor took earlier.

It’s Dave and Joan’s fault, of course. No sooner was I through the door than they’d thrusted a pint of Brains SA into my fist and were bombarding me with questions about NBSS half points, the history of lacings, and what it’s like to survive a meeting with BRAPA.
It’s a pub for chat and boozing, despite its location on the most touristy street.
Dave had secured the best seat in the house.”It’s all going on !” he said, mysteriously.

I don’t think he was referring to the Western Mail headline, either.

Over to you for a sixth, Quinno.
“I’ve been eleven stone all my life”
Overheard in a pub the other day, from one rather fat lady, to her similar sister, and slender daughter.
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“HUNDREDS of motorcyclists descend on this beauty spot at weekends” – so Wales’s Matlock Bath.
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Yes, exactly Paul !
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I still think that part of the UK is one of the most beautiful places in the world. What coastline. Cornwall without crowds.
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It wasn’t until I met Joan and you in Tenby that I realised how spectacular that coast was. Need a trip back there and to Fishguard soon.
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That seems a very long time ago but was probably 2 years(?). A fine evening where you also forced me to try Madri.
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Hey Martin, Martha wants to know if you’ve had that wart removed yet? No wonder people mistake you for Rolf Harris
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The wart ? That’s my didgeridoo, sport.
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Can you tell who it is yet?
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