Yes, this morning I thought you probably needed a picture of oversized ladies underwear in Andover market. Probably a metaphor for something. To prove this blog isn’t computer generated, here’s the result from the Andover etc parliamentary elections overnight. Tells you all you need to know. I arrived in town on Saturday to be pounced… Continue reading ANDOVER – PIGS IN BLANKETS
Tag: Proper pubs
SHIFNAL AND I, IN THE WHEATSHEAF
Thanks to Ethelred for the title; the usual pint of Doom Bar winging its way to you as soon as they start canning it as a craft beer. Well, my attempts to speed up Shifnal are going about as fast as the town itself. Not very. Pub 4 was the Wheatsheaf. Pubs called the Wheatsheaf… Continue reading SHIFNAL AND I, IN THE WHEATSHEAF
THE WEAVERS – NO STRATHAVEN FOR HALLOWEEN HATERS
No, that’s not BRAPA after a third pint of barley wine tonight. This is the sight we’ve all faced in pubs since the middle of October, uniform Halloween tat, to be replaced by Christmas tat next week (if not already). As you’ll know, I don’t believe in celebrating anything, bar my own birthday (22 December… Continue reading THE WEAVERS – NO STRATHAVEN FOR HALLOWEEN HATERS
ME AND THE FARMERS
OK, I’m not sure if they were all actual farmers, but it’s a better title than “Remote boozer that wasn’t actually in Llangoedmor near Cardigan“. In Llangoedmor, says the Good Beer Guide. With no WiFi, I knocked on all 373 houses in the village asking if they were hiding the Penllwyndu, a tactic that might… Continue reading ME AND THE FARMERS
“DO YOU WANT TO BUY A PUB ?”
Yep, still in West Wales. In fact, by the time I finish writing up this May trip I’ll probably be back there with Duncan. Finally some great beer, the sort that makes you turn to Mrs RM (if she’d been there) and say “Try this, Mrs RM. THIS is the pinnacle of the brewer’s… Continue reading “DO YOU WANT TO BUY A PUB ?”
THE PICK OF PICKERING
Yes, I know the Sun is a cracker too, but I need that blog title. And you know how much Mr Coldwell loves pics of Tetley Bitter. Pickering hasn’t wowed me on a trio of visits, seeming like a waiting for room for the cemetery Steam Railway to Heartbeat country. A dreadful Guest House 20-odd… Continue reading THE PICK OF PICKERING
“£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”
