So, the big Preston finale, the highlight of the trip for most of us. How many pubs are better than the Black Horse at 7pm on Friday night ? Though quite how anything can top the Plum Porter and John Smith’s Cask in the Market is an interesting question. Matthew was recognised and greeted by… Continue reading PRIDE OF PRESTON
JOHN SMITH’S AND JESSIE’S GIRL
Yes, new cover stars for our penultimate Preston post. Note the Two Mudgies (BBC 4, Thursdays, 1.30am) discussing the pronunciation of Thwaites. Reaching the inevitable climax now, we headed back toward the market and, er, the Market. Whether the Market Tavern or Tap, I care not. Well, I’m going with what it says on the… Continue reading JOHN SMITH’S AND JESSIE’S GIRL
HIGHWAY A583 REVISITED
Just for Dave, a young Bob staring out at our hazy DIPAs and unfined stouts from the racks of Vinyl Tap, Number 7 on our Proud Preston Potter (oh no, that’s Stoke). Back in December I thought this was an absolute certainty for the next GBG, but of course you’ll need to wait for the… Continue reading HIGHWAY A583 REVISITED
THE STRAWBERRY THIEF
No, not Matthew. The wallpaper (apparently). I rejoined the Preston Craft Advance Group in the Moorbrook after checking in to my trusty Premier Inn, narrowly resisting the urge to sleep till Saturday. My formal visit to the Moorbrook must have been just before I started this blog in late 2015, and somehow I did it… Continue reading THE STRAWBERRY THIEF
A TOAST TO SIR HUMPHREY IN THE BLUE BELL
With the trad group of Preston crawlers still stuck in the Wellington, Matthew, Luke and I were first in the Blue Bell (stop E). Being cultured, I would have preferred to spend the time in Preston’s wonderful Art Gallery with its relics from Deepdale plastic pitch, but was outvoted. Surprisingly, I’d never been to the… Continue reading A TOAST TO SIR HUMPHREY IN THE BLUE BELL
FUN, PLUGS AND PAUL RAYNOR’S MOUSTACHE
Forgot to give you a map. How shoddy. As shoddy as our detour to the Continental via the Royal Mail sorting office, which inexplicably failed to be a micropub. Still, the exercise did us all good, I think someone said. The Conti is the one the two Mudges were looking forward to, with its Unfiltered… Continue reading FUN, PLUGS AND PAUL RAYNOR’S MOUSTACHE
A SOBER START IN THE OLD VIC
Go on. Guess the beer at the foot of the photo. I caught up with the Beer & Pubs Posse at the Old Vic. Instinctive I want to add an “e”, but it’s not that sort of boozer. Forget Spoons, this is the real drinkers pub; its City Arms, or Hare & Hounds, or Railway.… Continue reading A SOBER START IN THE OLD VIC
PRESTON : FROM FRANKFURT TO FLEETWOOD VIA FISHERGATE
Back from Chorley Thursday night back in Manchester was one of the worst in my life. And I’ve spent New Year’s Eve in Maidenhead. You’ll remember I was helping to settle young Matt in during his week in the Big City, sharing a room at Ibis Budget on the edge of Ancoats. That Thursday night,… Continue reading PRESTON : FROM FRANKFURT TO FLEETWOOD VIA FISHERGATE
COTTONING ON TO CHORLEY’S CHARMS, IS IT BAPS OR IS IT BARMS ?
The return journey from Glasgow to Manchester was uneventful, bar a succession of Spanish students sticking their phones in my recharging point and leaving them buzzing all the way to Lancaster. Come Thursday, with an arduous day out in Preston ahead, I settled on a quiet day in Chorley, capital of the bit between Bolton… Continue reading COTTONING ON TO CHORLEY’S CHARMS, IS IT BAPS OR IS IT BARMS ?
“I’M 54 IN KILMARNOCK, I’M NEVER GONNA BE THAT AGAIN”
I may well be the only UK citizen who had “Visit Kilmarnock” on their Bucket List (No.156, just after Glyndebourne). “Good luck” said Duncan, as he dropped me at the station to fend for myself. Perhaps he thought the dogs were real. New Look is much scarier. Killie might be the largest town I hadn’t… Continue reading “I’M 54 IN KILMARNOCK, I’M NEVER GONNA BE THAT AGAIN”
