retiredmartin

February 2025. Mansfield.

I asked ChatGPT if anyone else before had felt emotional upon visiting Mansfield,

and discovered that on her 1967 tour (shortly before her death) Jayne Mansfield had been overcome to find a northern town named after her.

I was enraptured just by being able to be outside again after 6 months cooped up,  enjoying sunset over a Midlands industrial town,

and admiring its conceptual art.

Wordsworth wrote “Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive“, undoubtedly referring to the opening of a final GBG entry in a county.

The Pavilion opened dead on time, and had already kicked off a Millennial soundtrack of “Dakota” and “One Day Like This” as I made a valiant “5th pub in” effort to place my phone on the table and missed by six feet.

Simple room, odd barrels,

scummy head on the Lenton Lane Velvet Pour, an NBSS 4.5 milk stout fit to finish any GBG chapter. Even Kingdom of Fife.

No-one else turned up in 20 minutes, which creates that slight feeling of (mutual) discomfort when you’re the lone customer with a young barmaid in a remote pub and you’re unsure how chatty to be.

Just enough, I reckon. I nearly made a comment when she turned off Bruce’s “Hungry Heart” but knew my place.

I was so, so, tempted by the bright yellow light emanating from Kee Yee on the walk back to the station,

but James says I need to eat better now I’m approaching middle age and it pays to listen to your children.