Apart from the fourteen days spent waiting for Mrs RM to give birth to our son James in 1999 (NHS waiting lists), I reckon the last two weeks waiting for the new Beer Guide has been the worst fortnight of my life*. I’m reduced to scrabbling around for certain pre-emptives, like the Frothblowers in… Continue reading FROTHBLOWERS
Tag: Micro Pubs
“SPEAK TO YOUR BEAR HANDLER”
“Hell, hell is for children” sang Pat Benatar, who’d clearly not seen what the residents of Boscombe have to live with. From the Firkin I walked down past the station to the coast (exciting evidence below). You pass one of every chain pub on the walk down Bath Road; passing, oh, zero Beer Guide… Continue reading “SPEAK TO YOUR BEAR HANDLER”
BIZARRE BOURNEMOUTH
Another dull walk through the northern suburbs of Bournemouth to another dull micro pub with dull folk talking about other dull micro pubs, then. Er, no. The Firkin Shed, tucked between station and Dean Court Nou, is a bit overkill (almost literally), a bit like the Post Office place in Warwick or the Fez or… Continue reading BIZARRE BOURNEMOUTH
DOGS & UNRULY BEARDS WELCOME
Still in the hitherto unexplored suburbs of Bournemouth, still bringing you one pub at a time as I wait for the laptop to be repaired. I hope all those Bass mirrors don’t count as porn. Loads of pubs in Bournemouth “proper”, a spectacular zero in the Beer Guide, as all the micros head to the… Continue reading DOGS & UNRULY BEARDS WELCOME
A LITTLE BIT OF WINTON THAT IS FOREVER VANCOUVER
The really exciting bit of Dorset Dawdle now. Winton. Even with AFC Bournemouth enjoying glamour ties against Burnley and Huddersfield, I bet few of you could place Winton on the Navigator. I took the scenic route from Branksome, following your actual Bourne as it evaded some of the dullest housing outside of Watford. The smell… Continue reading A LITTLE BIT OF WINTON THAT IS FOREVER VANCOUVER
PARKESTONE’S CATS IN THE CHINESE
Next stop, that odd suburban area between Poole and Bournemouth that only GBG tickers ever visit. Or people alarmed that the nearest stop-off point calls itself a train station on Google maps. Mudgie and Tom will explode. No-one else gets off at Branksome, which won’t surprise you if you visit. Rather like Bexley, Upper Parkestone… Continue reading PARKESTONE’S CATS IN THE CHINESE
POOLE – MORE STEVE CLARIDGE THAN CLARIDGE’S
You may like to know that since getting back from my fest I’ve done 12 (twelve) loads of washing, mostly Matt’s hardcore band T-shirts, and spent 3 hours reading BRAPA to see what I can nick. Which is more time than I spend writing my own rubbish. Up to my most recent ticking trip now,… Continue reading POOLE – MORE STEVE CLARIDGE THAN CLARIDGE’S
