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
SIBLING DISPUTES IN HIGH SPEN
Unless you’re a GBG ticker or actually live there, I’ll bet you’ve never heard of High Spen, home of my last Tyne & Wear tick for 2019. Tyne & Wear is basically 90% Newcastle and Sunderland, but the micro explosion means you get one newbie in the middle of nowhere each year. The best I… Continue reading SIBLING DISPUTES IN HIGH SPEN
SETTING A HIGH BAA IN EDMUNDBYERS
And so, after a night at my regular Durham bolthole in Le Street, on to my final tick in that wonderful county. I’m obliged to tell you that the best beer is to be found in the Station House in Durham, but frankly I don’t recall any cask calamities this year. And the Baa bar… Continue reading SETTING A HIGH BAA IN EDMUNDBYERS
HIGH FORCE
The last few months have been a bit of a revelation in terms of rediscovering my own country. Given my obsession with visiting every inch of the Navigator map over many years, it may seem unlikely I’d find anything new, but two months ago I hadn’t seen Bowes, or Loftus, or Cardigan. Or High… Continue reading HIGH FORCE
