Mrs RM roots out more casual sexism in today’s exciting episode, set in bucolic Barton Stacey. You might know Barton Stacey from its service station on the A303 on the way to Stonehenge; it’s a pretty place. Obviously I’d called ahead as pub openings can’t be guaranteed whatever it says in writing, and a lovely… Continue reading “And what would your wife like ?”
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BLANDFORD FORUM – BUT IS IT BLAND ?
Just to prove there’s life outside the Beer Guide*, a quick trip to Blandord Forum, the Baldock of the West. My annual music festival has Blandford (pop. 10,610) on its doorstep, but I never visited. In fact I could tell you NOTHING about the town, bar the fact we stopped to tick the Dolphin two… Continue reading BLANDFORD FORUM – BUT IS IT BLAND ?
LOVELY FLAT BEER IN SUTTON POYNTZ
I had a day off from blogging yesterday, attempting to find something to rhyme with Sutton Poyntz. Best I could come up with was Steffen Freund, but it’s not known that he ever played at Weymouth, unlike Steve Claridge. Here’s your complete guide to Sutton Poyntz. Fascinating, huh ? The OS extract is more fun.… Continue reading LOVELY FLAT BEER IN SUTTON POYNTZ
A RARE MONDAY OPENER NEAR THE CERNE ABBAS GIANT
Not much to say about the Rivers Arms at Cheselbourne, bar the fact it was OPEN on a Monday in September, a period when most pubs move smoothly to “winter hours“. In fact, I’d been surprised to see how many pubs shut up shop a week before on the sunniest Bank Holiday Monday in living… Continue reading A RARE MONDAY OPENER NEAR THE CERNE ABBAS GIANT
STURM(INSTER NEWTON) UND DRANG
Sturm und drang means, of course, “turbulent emotion or stress”, which can’t really be applied to a couple of days in Shaftesbury, but on the other hand I HAD gone six days without a GBG tick which is a desperate state of affairs. Pre-Covid, I’d have come home from End of the Road to find… Continue reading STURM(INSTER NEWTON) UND DRANG
SUMMER CAME LATE TO CRANBORNE CHASE
We finally reached September, and after a morning hospital appointment with Mum headed down (only 3 hours, record) to Cranborne Chase, where Mrs RM deposited me at a field, near Wiltshire, like in the Pulp song (no drugs). Yes, End of the Road on my own, with only Baa Baa Toure for company. I’d booked… Continue reading SUMMER CAME LATE TO CRANBORNE CHASE
TREATED LIKE ROYALTY IN SUBURBAN SHEFFIELD
My first possibility was “The slow, sad decline of midweek drinking“, a rumination on the emptiness of pubs outside the weekend rush (see also: Life After Football). Plenty of pubs round me, of course, and as you’ll know I intend to visit EVERY one of them on foot, even though that’ll muck up my GBG… Continue reading TREATED LIKE ROYALTY IN SUBURBAN SHEFFIELD
WHAT HAS WALES DONE TO DESERVE TO BE BRUNNING & PRICED ?
And you can read that how you like. From Chester, which is partly in Welsh, we converted our campervan into a full foreign holiday by crossing the border in pursuit of a few GBG ticks in North-East Wales. My giant spreadsheet showing the possible/hopeful/over-ambitious opening times for my 487 pub targets says of the Dinorben… Continue reading WHAT HAS WALES DONE TO DESERVE TO BE BRUNNING & PRICED ?
Mrs RM gets told off in a Sam Smiths Pub
If your perfect pub is a symphony in brown (with a pint of BBB in a straight glass), then a perfect English town might be a symphony in black and white, like Chester. It MIGHT be, though I still prefer the continual change and modern v medieval of Manchester. Pub Curmudgeon missed the Gnome on… Continue reading Mrs RM gets told off in a Sam Smiths Pub
AN APOLOGY TO CHESTER’S WALLS
Last time in Chester I was less than effusive about the walls, prompting stout defence from locals and sons of the county. I’m happy to apologise to them now. After leaving the Rows, we did the full tourist circuit for the first time in years, Chester was heaving on the Sunday before the Bank Holiday.… Continue reading AN APOLOGY TO CHESTER’S WALLS
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