I left Matt to fend for himself for a night (he didn’t seem too distraught) and took the 07:50 to Glasgow, via lovely Wigan. The Wigan leg was uneventful but of course it’s not legally possible to have a peaceful trip on the Virgin west coast, and I got the full weirdo count pestering me… Continue reading GLASGAE
A MANCHESTER EDUCATION
A fortnight ago our youngest son started an intensive barbering course so he can learn a skill and start funding his own gig tickets. It must be a proper course as it says “London” in the title, even if it’s actually in the backwaters of Manchester. A few yards from the Arndale, the Gardens and… Continue reading A MANCHESTER EDUCATION
BYE BYE TRAD PUBS, HELLO MICROS
No, I couldn’t think of anything to rhyme with Longridge (“Hide in the fridge, it’s Longridge” ?) and I’ve already used Posh Preston at least twice. You all know where it is, I’m sure, so I’ve just marked the micros on this map that contains at least three major landmarks. Yes, the AB InBev factory… Continue reading BYE BYE TRAD PUBS, HELLO MICROS
SUNDAY LUNCH IN GREAT HARWOOD
I’m back home from End of the Road, came home early and missed Jarvis Cocker (not) singing about being in a big field in near Wiltshire. And the new Beer Guide’s arrived, embargoed until publication day on the 12th. That gives me a whole ten days for cross-ticking (see : BRAPA) and to get up-to-date… Continue reading SUNDAY LUNCH IN GREAT HARWOOD
I CAN SEE PARADISE IN THE BRADFORD NIGHT
My inadvisable Bradford night reached its inevitable conclusion in the Corn Dolly, picked entirely because Dick and Dave missed it on their travels. They missed Sunbridge Wells too, oddly. The Dolly is one of the half dozen GBG regulars that have survived the onslaught of craft. Must have been two dozen in at 22:45, and… Continue reading I CAN SEE PARADISE IN THE BRADFORD NIGHT
PORK PIES AND INDIAN FOLK MUSIC
You left me in the toilets at the Fighting Cock, admiring the art work. The Green Devil was a bad idea, because you then lose rational thought and have to stop at every pub on the stagger back. Which is why it’s called a Stagger. Bradford sure looks good, if a bit quiet compared to… Continue reading PORK PIES AND INDIAN FOLK MUSIC
DON’T GO BACK FOR THE GREEN DEVIL, DON’T GO BACK FOR THE GREEN DEVIL
Bit too confessional at times, this blog. I suppose admitting to inadvisable pubbing isn’t as bad as public urination or moth cuddling. I really didn’t need a night of it in Bradford, with a week in Manchester and West Scotland ahead. But who can resist the siren call of a dark West Yorkshire industrial estate… Continue reading DON’T GO BACK FOR THE GREEN DEVIL, DON’T GO BACK FOR THE GREEN DEVIL
BEEHIVE YOURSELF, BRADFORD
Only one long, long, week in The North to catch up on now. Hurrah! Sadly, even in Bradford there’s no escape from Ed Sheeran and his legion of fans (“Eddies”) Matt had a hardcore gig at Leeds Temple of Boom (capacity c. 200) on the Friday, but unfortunately Ed’s intimate gig in a field the… Continue reading BEEHIVE YOURSELF, BRADFORD
SOMERSET HAS FALLEN
No new GBG yet, as CAMRA continue to focus on the absence of the table dance and proper chips for GBBF volunteers. There’s a young lad in York crying right now, you know. But I reckon I’m done for GBG19, and you can see the counties I finished in this edition in that top pic.… Continue reading SOMERSET HAS FALLEN
SMILE, YOU’RE IN BURNHAM-ON-SEA
Later today Joan and Dave commence another journey to our calm and confident nation, and I take this opportunity to remind them there’s more to the UK than pubs and cricket. There’s also our famous street art, and our fantastic weather, and of course our unfortunate collapsing lettering. All of this was on display in… Continue reading SMILE, YOU’RE IN BURNHAM-ON-SEA
