retiredmartin

August 2025. Kingswinford.

“A beer guide sized package has arrived” texts Mrs RM as I endure the train trip back from Waterbeach last night.

This blog “OBSERVES THE EMBARGO” so you won’t be getting any clues about the contents from me, mainly because I’ll still be writing about trips to the old Guide at Christmas.

At least I finished the West Midlands chapter, moving seamlessly back from Wombourne in Staffs over the A449 into Kingswinford.

I’ve whinged about Black Country public transport on here before. It’s fine getting to Wolves, or Rowley Regis, or Stourbridge on train or tram, but central Dudley retains its mystique (?) outside the tram network (till Christmas, anyway), and to reach the famous pubs of Sedgley and Brierley Hill you really ought to have started your journey in the 1960s.

And although, factually, it only took another 20 minutes on the Number 16 from outside the Old Bush, it was a long and painful journey through quaint South Staffs villages to plain looking Kingswinford, which has just got a Spoons.

A very, very, busy Spoons.

Which doesn’t leave much trade for the Ale Hub over the road.

Unfortunately the Ale Hub was not a happy experience, a pint of Butty Bach tinged with diacetyl which I tried without success to return*.

Meanwhile, 10 miles away, Mrs RM had finished her exploration of the Jewellery Quarter and was enjoying the best of Smethwick;

while I sensed that cheese, onion and black pudding cob would keep me going till breakfast.

A rare example of the last tick in a chapter being a damp squib.

I judged I’d never be able to get to Smethwick before Mrs RM had finished that curry and headed for Stourbridge.

You remember Stourbridge ? The one with the shortest rail line in Europe.

*4 days later, it was closed, forever.