retiredmartin

August 2026. Newport. Gwent.

Back at the ibis Budget hotel (not even a “where you been ?“) Mrs RM says only;

“Hope we’re not going far for tea”.

For a change, no, not with Sausage Saturday and Garin Fitter’s Oldies Show at the first pub after the underpass*.

Not only can you never walk past the Murenger, but you must always honour your promise to visit a pub you’ve walked past a half dozen times.

“Next time, Lyceum Tavern, next time” I wrote in 2022, when I was still obssessed with ticking crafty GBG micros rather than just enjoying Proper Pubs with karaoke and curry ?

Doesn’t that just look great ?

Table by the stage,

order at the bar. To be honest, I didn’t really expect cask.

Mrs RM called it before I did. “That’s off“. It was.

If starting a conversation with strangers is difficult, taking your pint back undemonstratively without drawing attention to yourself as a CAMRA can be even more daunting.

Quietly does it, use “end of barrel” instead of “off“, and offer the extra quid or so for the Thatchers.

Which would have been the sensible choice to start with.

Sausage and chips and peas for six quid fifty the only sensible choice,

and frankly the onion gravy would cost you that in some pubs. Marvellous stuff.

The landlord was briefed by the landlady and came over to apologise for the Butcombe, and the clip turned round. They’re advertising Thornbridge on the pump today; I’d give it a go.

No idea if Garin Fitter actually made it on stage to sing “Delilah” or “Dead From the Waist Down”, as Mrs RM retired for the night with some milk cartons from the Ibis front desk.

Yes, that’s how much milk you get for you Welsh tea when you ask nicely.

*_{which I can only type in a John Foxx voice}.