September 2024. Sheffield. A (short) break from pubs, as I encourage Mrs RM out for a walk round the lesser-known reservoirs in north Sheffield, 15 minutes from Retired Martin Towers. Picked at random, More Hall Reservoir draws you in with villages called Wigtwizzle, Bolsterstone, and the mysterious Ewden Village, a timber built hamlet constructed for… Continue reading IN SEARCH OF EWDEN

September 2024. Sheffield. A half hour walk round Walkley is worth 2 hours in the flats of the Fens, and Mrs RM’s 10k steps takes in some art (from Peachzz), and grandeur, but I sense she senses I’m looking for a pub stop. Matt and Emma are on their way back from Berlin so I… Continue reading ON A WHIM

September 2024. Sheffield. Back at Sheffield Station from Dronfield I’m faced with a half hour slog up the hill back to the Blind Monkey home, and do that daft thing you often do at the end of a Proper Pub crawl; have a nightcap at the station bar. (see also : Parcel Yard, Old Ticket… Continue reading A FAILURE TO RESIST THE SHEFFIELD TAP

September 2024. Dronfield. What started two hours ago as a quick couple of pints in a new (but nearby) town had turned into a bit of a session by the time I left the Underdog with 12 minutes till the train left. 12 minutes ? That’s 3 minutes walk back, a minute for a wee… Continue reading IT’S NOT FOR ME !

September 2024. Dronfield Well, bumping into fellow ticker Eddie ensured I’d missed the 4pm train home to Sheffield, and unfortunately I was going to miss the 5pm one as well as I headed down Dronny Bottom (it’s really called that), finding it to resist the siren call of the Underdog I’d resolved to swerve an… Continue reading THE UNDERDOG IN DRONNY BOTTOM

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,… Continue reading RETIRED MARTIN (BLUE) STOOPS TO CONQUER THE TIRED PINT OF PEDIGREE

September 2024. Dronfield. By the time this mini-series of posts concludes (with an 11% Imperial Stout) you’ll know more about Dronfield than anyone on Earth, and will cancel your next exotic holiday in Maidenhead to walk the drizzled streets wondering why Underdog wasn’t open. A young man came to the door as I tried to… Continue reading UNAUTHORISED PUB TICKER MEET-UP IN THE DRONFIELD GREEN DRAGON

September 2024. Dronfield. I’m not sure what the technical term is for my inability to sit still at home for even a single day, “itchfeetus” or “gardeningavoidingis” I guess. So it was that 28 minutes after arriving home in Sheffield (28 minutes is one clothes wash) I was heading to the station without a plan… Continue reading IT’S HAPPY HOUR AGAIN. THE DRONFIELD TAP

September 2024. St Albans. Three (3) campervan overnighters in St Albans already this year, and I still haven’t revisited the Lower Red Lion or the Six Bells. Or even the Fighting Cocks. Because they’re virtually all closed by 11, as I arrive back at the City station from St Pancras on a carriage full of… Continue reading LAST ORDERS IN ST ALBANS

September 2024. London. Blimey. A weekday gig ending dead on 10pm, in London as well. Julia Jacklin’s timely finish at the Lyric, with no rockist encore (hurrah !) meant emerging on to Shaftesbury Avenue with the possibility of a late pint in Soho before my 10:30 train. Well, there might be craft (and “dancing“) in… Continue reading A LATE PINT IN THE LYRIC