“A gallon of Palmers, and a greasy Pad Thai, like a night out in Bridport, come fill me again” You can see where Sheffield United (or was it John Denver) nicked the song from. Actually, no-one much picks Brid for a Sunday night, even in August. There weren’t many takers for the view back along… Continue reading MORE GIANT DONGLE IN BRIDPORT
OYSTER INITIATION IN WEYMOUTH
It may be in the South-East, it may have staged Olympic sailing, and it may be home to approximately 4,527 caravan parks (including us last year) but I tell you, Weymouth is a bit rough. There was blood on the steps of the station on our last visit, there’s more takeaways than in Great Harwood,… Continue reading OYSTER INITIATION IN WEYMOUTH
A HOMAGE TO SWANAGE
In the summer of ’76 a frankly podgy 11 old (un)retiredmartin set off from a flat Waterbeach to less flat Swanage for a week of crabbing and crazy golf (both are legal activities, folks), and a shared room with my sister (legal at 11). Unfortunately all photos from that week were destroyed in a bonfire… Continue reading A HOMAGE TO SWANAGE
BASS MIRRORS PHOTOBOMB MY SELFIE IN LANGTON MATRAVERS
Just back from 2 days pubbing on the west coast of Scotland with Pubmeister, who has the cleanest house in Paisley (it says on my crib notes). Loads of posts to catch up with starting with the one that isn’t quite the Square & Compasses. But the King’s Arms was still heaving on a sunny… Continue reading BASS MIRRORS PHOTOBOMB MY SELFIE IN LANGTON MATRAVERS
NO (WEST) PARLEY
I confess, I read BRAPA last night and thought “what’s the point?” Not the point of BRAPA, the point of pub blogging. But I press on, into August in fact, and bring you what was at the time my nearest new GBG tick. Yes, a mere 3hrs 7, even with the usual delay at the… Continue reading NO (WEST) PARLEY
THIS ONE LOOKS FAMILIAR !
My last Mid Wales pub on the trip, and almost certainly my last in GBG19. And what a cracker the Greyhound was, tucked away in Radnorshire to the west of the thriving metropolis of, er, Knighton. But look, it’s got a railway station, under a slightly different name to fool BRAPA. I’ve kindly worked out… Continue reading THIS ONE LOOKS FAMILIAR !
ALL GAIN, NO PAIN IN PRESTEIGNE
My penultimate pub in West Wales and the deep joy of a real Borders town. Competing with Kington and Knighton for my Marches affections, and this time emerging victorious, though to be fair I’ve never had a Chinese takeaway from each of them on the same night. I couldn’t remember it, though I’d definitely been… Continue reading ALL GAIN, NO PAIN IN PRESTEIGNE
STANDING ROOM ONLY IN THE FFOREST INN
I was going to skip the next one, the ultimate quick half stop, but that would have deprived Matthew Lawrenson of one of the best fonts of the week. And how can you resist the Fforest in a place called Llanfinhangel-nant-Melan (pronounced Melon). Of course, on both Bing Maps and WhatPub the Fforest has moved… Continue reading STANDING ROOM ONLY IN THE FFOREST INN
ALL CHANGE AT THE USK & RAILWAY
You can’t beat a photo of Old Boy(o)s laughing merrily about the English Rugby team. Or perhaps it was VAR. I forget. I also forget what the landlady of the Tanners Arms in Defynnog said to me as I stood outside patiently waiting for 5pm opening. “Sorry, can’t open yet, had a bit of a… Continue reading ALL CHANGE AT THE USK & RAILWAY
TO TALYBONT AND BACK
The next day in Mid Wales turned up a genuine corker on the Brecon Canal. Despite the heavy food trade, and the families in wellies walking the canal (joking, I love to see children in pubs, just not their obnoxious parents), the Royal Oak in tiny Pencelli was a model all-rounder. I’ll overlook the odd… Continue reading TO TALYBONT AND BACK
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