December 2023. Snaith. It was a already a joyous 59th birthday (I know, I don’t believe it either, but then I am an “old grump”), what with bench seats, jam roly poly and a sweaty Chris de Burgh in Beal, but things arguably got even better with a quick stop near Goole and Drax power… Continue reading A SNAITH SPEAKEASY
Tag: Plough
MORE GREATER GRANTHAM GASTROPUBS
October 2023. Greater Grantham (or is it Super Sleaford ?). Lincolnshire. Some blokes like to admire other bloke’s Panini sticker albums from the 1986 World Cup, some compare rare Radiohead vinyl, but pub tickers love, LOVE, looking at each others Beer Guides and going “Oooh, you’ve got all four new Grantham ticks to do”. Yes,… Continue reading MORE GREATER GRANTHAM GASTROPUBS
BEER GUIDE DISASTER IN LONGPARISH
August 2023. Somewhere near Andover. It’s End of the Road day. The campervan is packed with tents and chairs and salami; we’re off to see weird folkies in a field near Salisbury for 4 days. We drive three and a half hours straight (aren’t they’re rules on this ?) and stop for lunch at the… Continue reading BEER GUIDE DISASTER IN LONGPARISH
THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING IN WOLLASTON
20th March 2023. I’d given myself two hours to walk the 5 miles to outer Stourbridge and back, visit the two new GBG pubs, squeeze in lunch and perhaps a Bathams. It was JUST enough time. I’d forgot how many pubs there were along the A458 as Stourbridge becomes Wollaston, and the Black Country becomes… Continue reading THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING IN WOLLASTON
GLOUCESTERSHIRE HAS FALLEN – A CHARFIELD CRACKER
I like to imagine my readers in their condominiums (nothing to do with prophylactics, apparently), following my progress round the UK on giant maps or Google Street View, perhaps mirroring my mileage on their exercise bikes. Here’s on Journey to Glory (random Spandau Ballet reference for Mark C) completing Gloucestershire. Charfield , tucked in the… Continue reading GLOUCESTERSHIRE HAS FALLEN – A CHARFIELD CRACKER
BUSTING THE PARKING BUDGET IN OXFORD
A week of continuous travel, not much of it to pubs, and now I’m on my fourth (4th) train of the day and it’s only 10.13. On Monday night I was in Oxford for my penultimate Oxon tick, Mrs RM parking the campervan in the first available car park (it’s a hellish city) and shouting… Continue reading BUSTING THE PARKING BUDGET IN OXFORD
A PICNIC AT DAMFLASK
We pressed on to the Bradfields, Sheffield’s equivalent of the Hamptons I guess. One of the largest parishes in Britain, stretching from the housing estates of Stannington to the weekend walker wonderlands of Strines, Bradfield dominates North-West Sheffield and the entrance to the Peak. High Bradfield has the huge Thwaites dining pub and the eponymous… Continue reading A PICNIC AT DAMFLASK
“£2 A PINT. ALL DAY, EVERY DAY”
How I wish I could find something to rhyme with Oswestry. BRAPA will make up a word that translate into Welsh as something rude. I was here a year ago, rediscovering a town on the rise and proclaiming the Bailey Head one of the pubs of the year. It takes great self-control to avoid a… Continue reading “£2 A PINT. ALL DAY, EVERY DAY”
WE WISH YOU A BRAPA CHRISTMAS
Only two days to the 25th, when I was really hoping to have caught up on the blog so I could start my extended highlights package, which this year will include a special award for the best pashmina (or male scarf, I’m no sexist). First up, here’s my thoughts on the most recent BRAPA burst… Continue reading WE WISH YOU A BRAPA CHRISTMAS
FRACKED OFF AT LEITH HILL
This may be a short post as I’m waiting for Mrs RM to arrive back at Stansted, her bottle of Elvis Juice chilling in the fridge. The Plough at Coldharbour in the heart of the Surrey Hills was one of those pubs that I was sure I’d been to before. Duncan and Simon will know… Continue reading FRACKED OFF AT LEITH HILL
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