HUCKNALL – BEER & SKITTLES

I’m driving BRAPA round the hard-to-reach pubs of the Cambridgeshire Fens on Saturday; “Whittlesey, little to see” is my suggested blog title. I’ll probably leave Si to his own devices this time, rather than distracting him from pub hubbub by pointing out how difficult West Oxon ticking is going to be. I can always count… Continue reading HUCKNALL – BEER & SKITTLES

HARDY & HANDSOME – KIMBERLEY KICKS ON

I’m afraid the title is the best thing about this post from a frustrating afternoon in industrial Notts. Alan Winfield would have appreciated it, albeit horrified by the unfettered growth in micros. After Manchester I spent 3 days throwing things away while Mrs RM did company accounts and tax returns.  She was ready for an… Continue reading HARDY & HANDSOME – KIMBERLEY KICKS ON

“THEY CAN’T SAY HALF IN WORKSOP”

A quick stop in Worksop on the way to Sheffield to ensure James has found the toaster. Lunch is a shared pizza and pint of Punk IPA for £6.49 in the Spoons. “I’m a cheap date” says Mrs RM, cradling her bargain pint as I dash off for a half in my new tick. Worksop… Continue reading “THEY CAN’T SAY HALF IN WORKSOP”

RUSHING KIDS, ROYAL CHILDREN

  On Wednesday morning I got a text message from youngest son Matt. “Soz Dad, short notice.  Can I go 2 We Came As Romans gig tonite plz.” “OK. Where ? “Nottingham. London date sold out” “OK” “Radddd” You can guess where he gets it from. So at 6.30pm we were back here, having made… Continue reading RUSHING KIDS, ROYAL CHILDREN

ROCKIN’ RUSHCLIFFE STICKS IT TO DRYANUARY

More good pubs, more excellent beer.  Dryanuary seems to be a roaring success so far. Rushcliffe is one of those boroughs that exist for the sole purpose of confusion when Members of Parliament have their constituencies flashed up on PMQs. See also: Haltemprice and Spen I’d call it posh Notts, but there’s plenty of plain… Continue reading ROCKIN’ RUSHCLIFFE STICKS IT TO DRYANUARY

CUM YE TO SUTTON-CUM-LOUND

In Pubmeister parlance the Bluebell in Lound is a lone straggler in my GBG conquest, tucked away in the nothingness between Retford and Donny (with apologies to my relatives in beautiful Bawtry). It’s a vital tick on the way to completing Nottinghamshire GBG entries for the year before the Pubmeister. I confess I was a… Continue reading CUM YE TO SUTTON-CUM-LOUND