retiredmartin

May 2025. Wakefield.

Heading home from Hebden, and another sharp changeover in Wakefield.

I could have dashed across to Westgate for the fast train home (always the one heading for Plymouth) but there’s something of the mortal sin about stopping in a town and not having a half.

Particularly when it’s Wakefield, a town city I feel I know less and less by the year.

This art display near Kirkgate station represents the multicultural nature of a place that served me the best peshwari naan ever,

but I’d be struggling to tell you how to do a pub crawl here, and the last new entry was a disaster.

The Red Shed doesn’t open till 7(pm, Paul), so it’s Fernandes for a swiftie.

Or is it Luis’s ?

I’m confused by a few name changes in the Wakey pub scene, try this explanation…

Nope, lost me at independent (ugh).

Fernandes was somewhere else when I last visited, so some would say I need to revisit it anyway, though I never worked to those ticking rules.

It’s packed, mostly CAMRA types* and everyone is on cask. Whether anyone is on the Torrside “monsters” is another question.

It’s a quality line-up,

but a man visiting Wakefield should drink Wakefield beer,

in this case a startlingly plummy Plum Porter (NBSS 3.5+). Better than Titanic ? Different.

I’ve given myself 8 minutes here, enough time to tour the charming and cheery rooms,

and reckon this is a Top 100 cert,

but somehow insufficient time to actually drink the beer.

Note to self : Never, ever, rush across town on a tummy of plum porter.

*You know who we are