A grim month, in all honesty, for reasons you’ll know. I’m still re-reading Richard‘s idiosyncratic, thought-provoking comments on my blog, and I dedicated my first pint of Doom Bar to him after arriving back from the USA (Boooo) this morning. I’d no doubt have been heading up towards Richard’s North Yorkshire home to say hello… Continue reading JUNE ’19 STOCKTAKE + JULY PREVIEW – SPREADSHEET UPDATE
A CASTLE OF COMFORT
Whizzing through these Somerset posts now, thanks to Gatwick WiFi this morning. Whether I dare head back down the A303 till the Glasto cleanup is complete (2021) is another matter. Anyway, it’s about time I showed you the Bear in Wincanton, my bargain (£30) room for the night. You were expecting something tiny, weren’t you… Continue reading A CASTLE OF COMFORT
“Please do not Jump on the Bean Bags” – Misery in the Mendips
It took me a long time to get to the Mendips. About 44.4444 years, if memory serves. But I’ve been making up for that lapse of late, using Wincanton and Shepton Mallet as my cheap bases for a concerted attack on the Somerset GBG. (Spoiler: The beer isn’t very good). Yes, I know you’ll say… Continue reading “Please do not Jump on the Bean Bags” – Misery in the Mendips
GOING FOR THE BURN IN CREWKERNE
No, the Antelope isn’t today’s pub, more’s the pity. I bet it was great in 1977 (wild guess based on advertising “real ale“). Next stop Crewkerne, pronounced “kroo-kern” or possibly “atleastwerenotYeovil“. Possibly the largest town beginning with “C” I’d never been to before, and a pleasant surprise, particularly around St Barts. It’s not affluent, but… Continue reading GOING FOR THE BURN IN CREWKERNE
LOST IN A FOREST. NEAR YEOVIL
So another Glastonbury ends with entitled 22 year olds perched on new boyfriend’s shoulders drinking Prosecco and listening to a 60 year old goth from Crawley. Yes, Robert Smith of the Cure (last album 11 years ago made No. 33), is older than Mudgie. And looks it. But they were great, back in the days… Continue reading LOST IN A FOREST. NEAR YEOVIL
“I’m cream crackered!”
“Thank you, Dorset, next.” As Ariana Grande will no doubt say when she headlines #Glasto in 2031*, and that bunch of “look at me, Mum” layabouts will ignore her geographical clumsiness**. Thornford has the courtesy to have its own station, or “halt“, a jolly 15 minute walk from the King’s Arms. I’d never heard of… Continue reading “I’m cream crackered!”
GIANT DONGLE
Richard loved West Dorset, and CAMRA magazines, so this next post is for him. Quite what he’d have made of the Rose & Crown in Longburton I can only guess. The village is strung out along the A352 on its meandering way down toward the Cerne Abbas Giant, a giant who clearly drank Draught Bass.… Continue reading GIANT DONGLE
RICHARD
I was really saddened to hear of the death of Richard Coldwell today. Our favourite stroppy Yorkshireman has been great company over many pub crawls since I first met him at his excellent local beer fest in Clifford 3 years ago. He was great company, and I’m missing him enormously already. We should have been… Continue reading RICHARD
GETTING HAIRY IN HINTON ST. MARY
Back to those pubs you seem to want me to write about, even if I just bung the half of pond water into the plants. I bet you’re already looking above for suitable pots, aren’t you? Sadly for you, the White Horse at Hinton St Mary (pop. 307, average age 73) was top-notch. I arrived… Continue reading GETTING HAIRY IN HINTON ST. MARY
HOVIS
Another day, another trip down to Dorset, another chance to walk through timeless Shaftesbury without BRAPA whining he needs the loo. I see the locals have already erected a statue of the angelic Simon after his February visit. No red carpet for me on my quick stop for flat white in ever excellent Coffee #1,… Continue reading HOVIS
retiredmartin 