That’s right, take the mick (they probably are called Dick) out of John Smiths drinkers to promote your artisan micro pub in Amble. Worked for me, although my first thought was “definite pre-emptive tick“. Tiny place, bustling with a mixed crowd, reminded me immediately of the Angel in Belper. The first thing you’ll notice is… Continue reading “GOT NEE JOHN SMITHS LIKE”
LOST IN AMBLE
Back up the A1 for some more Northumberland GBG action The day after the hottest day ever (EVER) in Cambridge, I arrived in Amble in a T-Shirt to find everyone in jumpers and raincoats. Improbably, I’d never been to Amble, just like in the Charlene song. You’ll know that Seahouses is now Islington-on-Sea (Part IV)… Continue reading LOST IN AMBLE
CRAFT HITS THE LYNN
Yes, two posts from King’s Lynn, neither of them in the Beer Guide. I’m losing it. But 400-odd words is my absolute limit now I’m old, and also I need to bring you some more holiday snaps. Actually, describing a 3 hour trip with 3 pints and scampi and chips as a holiday may be… Continue reading CRAFT HITS THE LYNN
“I DON’T GIVE TASTERS”
a.k.a. Lynn lovelies. I wanted to use “Kings of Lynn” as a title but Pubmeister beat me to it. His quite brilliant post also has the best lines and unmatchable photos, but if I didn’t do a piece I’d be doing Lynn (no-one apart from a royalist Scot would call it King’s Lynn) a… Continue reading “I DON’T GIVE TASTERS”
AYSGARTH FALLS. AND SO DOES NORTH YORKSHIRE
A small confession. I’ve skimmed over a few pub visits in North Yorkshire to bring the conclusion of this significant chapter in the Guide. That’s not a criticism of Yorkshire or its often almost tolerable residents. In fact, York’s Pub of the Year, the Mended Drum in Huby produced the best (and murkiest) beer of… Continue reading AYSGARTH FALLS. AND SO DOES NORTH YORKSHIRE
LARKS IN LANGSTROTHDALE
In case you’re wondering how I get away with so much time away from home, I was wondering the same thing myself. Mind, Mrs RM was simultaneously enjoying nights away in Greenwich, Brighton and Brentford, though admittedly there may be some work involved as well there. “Pub ticking IS work” says Mark Crilley, possibly. Well,… Continue reading LARKS IN LANGSTROTHDALE
HE DOESN’T DO KYLIE, BUT GRAHAM McGROTTY WOWS BURY ST EDMUNDS
, Looking at the 1,037 photos on my phone it appears I popped back home in between my week Up North to cook tea for our sons and take Mrs RM on a campervan break in Bury St Edmunds. Not our first trip to the southern Bury, whose forward thinking Council lets us park overnight… Continue reading HE DOESN’T DO KYLIE, BUT GRAHAM McGROTTY WOWS BURY ST EDMUNDS
TALKIN LOUD & CLEAR, BUT NOT DRINKING BEER
None of the photos from my next two Cumbrian pubs are that exciting, way the cookie crumbles, so here’s a window from St Peter’s church in Castle Carrock. At least Mark gets an overlooked OMD single in the title. Look closely at the right-hand panel in St Peters and you’ll see “BRAPA casteth out… Continue reading TALKIN LOUD & CLEAR, BUT NOT DRINKING BEER
SNACKS
I have an admission to make. I didn’t finish Northumberland last year. Not sure I actually claimed I did, mind, but the Wallace Arms in Rowfoot/Featherstone/Haltwhitle/whateverit’scalled escaped me. Not that remote, but the Wallace feels a different world to the glitz of Brampton and Haltwhistle. Not sure which villages it serves, if any, and there’s… Continue reading SNACKS
A HALT (TO WET MY) WHISTLE
Yes, it’s that Albion Rovers flag again. They have supporters everywhere. Next stop, Haltwhistle (pop.3,811), the Wirkworth or Llanidloes of the North, or something. Excitingly, not only did I edge closer to completing Northumberland; I also ventured into the hitherto barely explored north Cumbria, and returned unscathed. Only a third trip to the Halt, or… Continue reading A HALT (TO WET MY) WHISTLE
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