Oddly, perhaps, Matt was quite keen to see the white cliffs of Dover before his gig. I’d had the best view from the train whizzing back from Folkestone. “It’s a bit daggy” he said of the town when we caught up at the Maison Dieu. And I guess he’s right. “Look at the cuddly… Continue reading FOLLOWING THE RULES IN DOVER
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A FOLKESTONE FLYER
In lovely Dover, we parked up in the Bluebell, an exemplary Guest House in a less than exemplary area on the Folkestone Road. As the view from the bedroom window shows. While Mrs RM and Matt recovered from Punk IPA/Salted caramel fudge cake respectively, I took the Dover Priory train to Folkestone. Just a flying… Continue reading A FOLKESTONE FLYER
FAVERSHAM FEEDING FRENZY
Next stop Dover for Matt’s post-hardcore gig, and a chance to evaluate the state of preparations for Britain’s latest car park (aka the M26). Oddly, Google Maps then sent us via the M2, forcing a late change in GBG-driven lunch plans. Ah, Faversham. Underrated as a pub destination due to some folk’s preference for Harvey’s… Continue reading FAVERSHAM FEEDING FRENZY
THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM : CUT THE BEER RANGE
Good Bass, bad Bass. That’s the problem in the age of the cask lottery. The next day Bass popped up again in Bourne, of all places. What is this witchcraft, is Bass suddenly fashionable ?* Bourne isn’t fashionable. Even with the giants of Stamford and Spalding either side. A town that’s basically a busy bit… Continue reading THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM : CUT THE BEER RANGE
“I’D BE LYNCHED IF I STOPPED SELLING DRAUGHT BASS”
Next up is one of those really dreadful things that pub tickers do occasionally; return to a pub they’ve already ticked. Sometimes that happens by accident, of course. Sometimes it’s because you know they’ve got this on; At least I hoped the Three Kings in Threekingham hadn’t decided to make it an “occasional” beer, or… Continue reading “I’D BE LYNCHED IF I STOPPED SELLING DRAUGHT BASS”
MORE BREWERY TAPS UNDER WINDMILLS
Since I decided to go to one pub per post I’ve developed an impressive backlog. Only a week, but 20 pubs and counting. Makes BRAPA seem quite efficient. Not all ticks are as, er, exciting as the White Horse. The new wave of brewery taps and craft bars leave me a bit cold, as do… Continue reading MORE BREWERY TAPS UNDER WINDMILLS
SLEAFORD MOD(IFICATION)S
And on we go, into the long dark teatime of the soul, or “A Day In Lincolnshire” to give it the correct title. The great Lincolnshire GBG19 tick begins in Sleaford, or all places. Clearly you all know where Sleaford is, you’re educated people. Unlike the audience at my gig in Cambridge last night… Continue reading SLEAFORD MOD(IFICATION)S
“A LITTLE PEACE” ON PUNKY MONDAY IN BURTON LATIMER
I think I forgot to tell you that our trip to North America was scuppered by the collapse of Primera Air, so I’ll never know how jaywalking in New York compares to Duisburg. But every cloud, etc. etc. In fact, this Saturday I’ll be meeting Mr Project Calypso himself, and have the honour of driving… Continue reading “A LITTLE PEACE” ON PUNKY MONDAY IN BURTON LATIMER
Northampton Craft, from Klaipėda to Falmouth
Don’t worry folks, it’s not a misguided attempt to enter the world of beer blogging, merely a travel recommendation for Mrs RM while she’s camped down in Northampton over the winter. I very kindly tested a couple more possible alternatives to the Spoons for Christine to trek to on the way back from the… Continue reading Northampton Craft, from Klaipėda to Falmouth
THESE SHOES WERE MADE FOR VISITING WORKING MENS CLUBS
Have you noticed how I’m only seen as a shadow approaching my prey in these photos. Oooh, spooky. Onward to Northampton, where Mrs RM is doing a fine job of funding my beer trips, and without the extravagance young Simon is displaying. Slumming it in a Doubletree indeed ! The exciting walk from (A) to… Continue reading THESE SHOES WERE MADE FOR VISITING WORKING MENS CLUBS
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