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
Tag: Plum Porter
THE JOY OF SIX (INDOORS)
More North Herts hops, as I take a leisurely walk from Letchworth station to Baldock while James attempts to complete the “55 roundabouts in 90 minutes” challenge. If he fails a 3rd driving test (I took 5) back here in October he’ll have to retake it on the slopes of Sheffield in winter. No pressure.… Continue reading THE JOY OF SIX (INDOORS)
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
ON MY BOD IN STAFFORD
Wednesday morning meant “Le Grande Tour“. A designated heritage trip through east Cheshire, with only a small Branson Premium applied as it manages to bypass Stoke. I resisted the craft beer options on Crewe Station. Yes, my Big Day In Stafford with Paul (t’other) Mudge and Quosh, a first time out for this particular trio.… Continue reading ON MY BOD IN STAFFORD
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.
I SUCCUMB TO THE PLUM (PORTER)
What are those #PubMen looking at ? I guess they were eyeing up my yummy Plum Porter at the Victoria, our fourth Rugby stop. This was the longest walk of the day, a mammoth ten minutes out towards the former Bass stronghold of Hillmorton. Ten minutes, and four excellent pieces of jaywalking from our… Continue reading I SUCCUMB TO THE PLUM (PORTER)
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 NIGHTCAP
So, only three of us standing at the end of MancCrawl 2018 in the backroom of the Circus. Quite how Paul persuaded me into the Grey Horse (as well as the Lost Dene for breakfast), only he knows. Never try to keep up with the Stafford Mudge. But it was only half six, my bedtime… Continue reading A NIGHTCAP
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
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