retiredmartin

September 2024. Dronfield.

Part 3 of x, where x is a (too) big number, of my impromptu Dronfield crawl. I really should have invited Stafford Paul, I could have given him at least 5 minutes notice.

Instead, I had the unexpected joy of the company of fellow GBG ticker (he’s a ticking machine) Wakefield Eddie, at least until he was distracted by the dubious attractions of Dronfield Town FC.

If I have any advice to give to young Guide completists it’s this, “Let NOTHING distract you from The One True Goal, not life, or death, or marriage, or Oasis reformations (ugh) or Northern Counties soccer“.

Eddie had done his research, identifying the Blue Stoops as a good pre-emptive on the basis that a) it’s a cask pub, b) was till recently a True North pub and c) it’s got a quaint name. There’s always logic.

True North have sold on to something called “Chilled Pubs” and anyone who’s met me will know how much I detest that “c” word, an excuse for doing nothing in my book.

I have three words for the Blue Stoops.

Big Yakitori Sticks*.

Oh, and unreadable slate pump clips.

That’s four, I guess.

“Choose your fleece” says Eddie.

That’s three.

Anyway, you get the idea by now.

But the beer range !

That’s a Proper beer range Stafford Paul could warm to in a chilled pub, surely ? Eddie goes up even further in my estimation by following me in a pint of Pedi. I’m not sure whether he had the first or second pint, but it mattered not as both were “tired”, to use the catch-all word for undrinkable beer.

The barperson is cheery and welcoming, even when I did my little routine at the bar seeking a cheerfully replaced pint.

Sadly, the Pride wasn’t drinking particularly well, either (2.5), but social conventions dictate you can only take one pint back in the same pub, and as you can judge yourself it wasn’t that bad.

Eddie dashed off to watch football, I headed back to Dronny Bottom, wondering what the catch was at the Bread bin.

*Yes, I was tempted.