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

TWO, count them, TWO pubs for you this time, as the Pubmeister attempts to make up for lost time and reach Stackpole before dark descended. Next up was Solva, famed anong Guardianistas for the harbourside pubs. But possibly not the roadside Royal George. Or Villa Giorgio as it appears to be known. You can see… Continue reading ROCH ON, PUBMEISTER

Following the lead of BRAPA, more short posts as I vainly attempt to catch up while using Devon internet. For you quiz fans, identify this pub…. The next pub on Duncan’s personal journey of self discovery took us to our smallest city (on some measures, he adds to avoid debate). By the time we reached… Continue reading PEMBROKESHIRE BASS LURE TOURNAMENT

Well, when someone else is driving you to drink you may as well fill your boots. I have to say, Duncan is a perfect passenger, never once demanding an emergency stop on the hard shoulder of the A428 A487. So it was that on our way to St Davids we were only mildly diverted to… Continue reading HIDDEN BASS IN LLANYCHAER

Onward to Maenclochog, which is easy for you to say. Middle of nowhere, and 3 days on camel from Pontfaen. Never heard of it, which just goes to show how much of the UK is undiscovered. Like Erith and Belverdere. It’s a village that lets its heritage decline naturally, I’ll say that. And you thought… Continue reading BENCH SEATS AND BAVARIAN N/A LAGER

Keep up ! Keep up ! Next stop on the great “Pubmeister Does All of Wales” was somewhere called Maenclochog, which sadly means something like “37 minutes from civilisation”. Before we got there, Duncan got a bit distracted… During that stop in Pontfaen, someone mentioned Rosebush, which I always thought was a Citizen Kane reference.… Continue reading TIN SHED

No, not that lot. We’re just the secret society of GBG tickers whose rules are shrouded in murky DIPA mystery. Duncan was telling me about other folk who are nearly as obsessed with the Guide as he and Simon are, but of course they don’t blog so they don’t count. Duncan’s next tick was just… Continue reading FREEMASONS

Some of the most expensive and bizarrely-named “Guest Ales” encountered on our West Wales Wander came at the Royal Oak in Newport, (Pembrokeshire, as opposed to the estimated 33 other Newports). A traditional local catering to the huge tourist trade that Wiki seems to think Newport gets, presumably pilgrims heading uphill to Pontfaen. Goodness, there’s… Continue reading SEWIN FOR PEACE IN NEWPORT (PEMBS)