TWO PRESTON CLASSICS AND A MICK’S CHICKEN TIKKA

Once you start you can’t stop. After the Orchard I should have gone straight to Mick’s Hut for the curry and called Mrs RM to report on Matt’s Move. But you can’t walk past an open door, can you ? Particularly this one; The Black Horse has perhaps the most recognisable bar front on Pub… Continue reading TWO PRESTON CLASSICS AND A MICK’S CHICKEN TIKKA

WESTON BLACK CATS AND CULLOMPTON BLOWOUTS

18th January 2020 I’ve been uncharacteristically generous to my Sis on this trip, you might think, given the tiny lanes she directed me down in Cornwall (“Only following orders !”). But her pubby observations are highly valued, she doesn’t chat about the Love Island twins from Waterbeach, and when we had a tyre blow out… Continue reading WESTON BLACK CATS AND CULLOMPTON BLOWOUTS

JOHN SMITH’S AND JESSIE’S GIRL

Yes, new cover stars for our penultimate Preston post.  Note the Two Mudgies (BBC 4, Thursdays, 1.30am) discussing the pronunciation of Thwaites. Reaching the inevitable climax now, we headed back toward the market and, er, the Market. Whether the Market Tavern or Tap, I care not. Well, I’m going with what it says on the… Continue reading JOHN SMITH’S AND JESSIE’S GIRL

MORE TREMBLING MADNESS. AND PLUM PORTER IN YORK.

Next up in York was what we call a speculative pre-emptive (ASP), which I bumbled to via this impressive building. The new, second branch of the House of Trembling Madness would be a shoe-in for the Guide in Yeovil or Yaxley, but in York is has stiffer competition. HoTM (1) was an early indication, along… Continue reading MORE TREMBLING MADNESS. AND PLUM PORTER IN YORK.

UNBRIDLED JOY IN BRIDLINGTON

OK, that title only really works if you pronounce your favourite East Yorkshire resort as “Bride“, but bear with me. The train from Hull rattled past Beverley and Driffield, normally homes to at least one new GBG tick each year.  This must have been a first tick in Brid for a decade, since the wonderful-looking… Continue reading UNBRIDLED JOY IN BRIDLINGTON

A TRAIN BEER FOR THE PICCADILLY TAP

Yes, still more from my Birthday I’m afraid. Having lost track of time AND forgotten I could only use my return ticket on the Welsh chugger back to Piccadilly, I had 27.5 minutes to kill in Wilmslow.  No great undiscovered boozers, no micros, not even some weird street art down a dark alley.  Just a… Continue reading A TRAIN BEER FOR THE PICCADILLY TAP