Another arty waffle breakfast, and then Day 3 was the “Big Tourist Day“. Yes, we were headed for Sugar Hill, an historic district of Harlem. I could have used the obvious U2 reference, but we all know “Rapper’s Delight” beats “Angel of Harlem” hands down. Actually, we were headed there by accident, having inadvertently got… Continue reading THE SUGARHILL GANG

“Enough of that Nu Yawk already“ shout readers Dave and Dick from the States. (They really do talk like that, though these days with a distinct Bewdley rather than Brooklyn twang). Sorry, loads more. Back in Brooklyn, 3/4 of our family were wiped out by 6pm, so I had to do the hard yards myself.… Continue reading NO SLEEP ‘TILL BROOKLYN

Just to prove I’m not that obvious, this one isn’t called Breakfast In America. Day 2 dawned, the breakfast bar opened at 7am, and we quickly realised that this was to be the weakest aspect of The Brooklyn’s offer (the rooms were great, i.e. the WiFi was). Stale coffee, Do-It-Yourself waffles in the shape of… Continue reading WOKE UP, IT WAS A CHELSEA MORNING

Day 1 in America, stuffed full of brisket beef and slopped with sun screen that I’d rushed out to get from the “drug store” in Crown Heights. So, where do you start with New York ? Yes, Wall Street, of course. Only 3 stops on what we came to know and love as the “A”… Continue reading HEY, MANHATTAN

Ten days of #MAGA. How do I approach this on the blog ? One pub at a time, just like in the UK. But first, the set-up. Where is New York ? asks reader qq. Here it is, just south-west of St Johns. I waved to Russ as we flew over Canada. Sorry to disappoint… Continue reading CROWN HEIGHTS AFFAIR

Lots of posts from That America to come.  Or perhaps not ? Every great journey starts at an airport Wetherspoons, doesn’t it ? With a 6.30am flight to come, I didn’t fancy the drive to search for a long-term car park in the attractive part of Crawley, so I got a family agreement to take… Continue reading THE INEVITABLE GATWICK SPOONS PINT

  So, a mixed bag in terms of beer quality in Wales in May and June.  But the last tick really restored my faith in Wales, pubs, beer, the Universe, life itself. Generations of Brummies have no doubt passed the humble Druid at Goginan en-route to Aberystwyth and Barmouth, sandwiches and Tizer in bags, missing… Continue reading GO, GO TO GOGINAN

I’m sure Richard would have had something to say about the carpets in the Cadwgan, But I know he’d appreciate the beauty of Aberaeron, a place I can’t believe I’ve spelt correctly so far. Only a second trip to the Times reader’s favourite West Welsh resort (I didn’t actually do any research for that, don’t… Continue reading ABERAERON – GREAT PUB CARPETS

You left us at Cardigan’s Angel Hotel with chilli sauce dripping down our chins (mine, anyway, can’t speak for Duncan). No chance of a midnight pint of murk here.  In fact no sign that the bar ever opened. But despite an overpowering smell of air freshener on the stairs, I’ll be using the Angel again… Continue reading EVERYTHING (IN CARDIGAN) BUT THE PUB

Many of you have been in touch with me with special requests for this series of Welsh posts, which is sadly drawing to a close. The printable one reads; “Less silly pubs, more pictures of Duncan’s jumper” It was 8.30pm as we skated past St Brides Bay and the Havens en-route for St Ishmaels (not… Continue reading KEBABS IN CARDIGAN