25th February 2020 I would have worked Holt into the title, but you’d have thought I meant I was in Norfolk, and I can’t have you fearing for my welfare like that. If anything, Wiltshire’s Holt is even posher than the one the Pashmina Paulines and Peters use for their 3rd stop on the way… Continue reading MORE MELKSHAM MERRIMENT
22nd February 2020 I spent ages thinking up a witty title with “Pelican” in it and gave up. So you get what went through my head at 20:26 as we cancelled plans and gave in to the karaoke and cask combination at Devizes’ Pelican. If only it had been just cask. Another Wadworths Market Place… Continue reading PUBS ARE GREAT, AREN’T THEY ?
22nd February 2020 The White Bear was the second and last of my new GBG ticks on this Wiltshire Wander, which is a disappointing tally when I see how BRAPA has been plundering the North. I really fancied a 6X, long a favourite beer despite many commentators on CAMRA Discourse describing it as “twiggy brown… Continue reading LEFT TO MY OWN DEVIZES
Next stop, Wiltshire, and a rare new Wadworth’s pub in the Guide. Sure the Three Crowns was probably a GBG cert back in ’83, but sadly Duncan dropped his memory stick in the Bass jug in Pontfaen so we shall never know. Half an hour was enough to remind myself why Devizes gets the same… Continue reading SUSPECT DEVIZES
More short posts. With more great Portsmouth backstreet pub tiling, but unfortunately more slow-selling beer. A rare Wadworths house in the Beer Guide, it looked irresistible at dusk. And with the blues playing and a menu starring “lobster or lobster & pulled brisket loaded fries served up truffle alioli”, I thought it might be the… Continue reading KING STREET BLUES
On the Sunday I picked up Sis from the pre-booked car park north of Bristol Temple Meads and headed home. “Anywhere you want to stop on the way” she said. Funny you should say that. The social club at Stanford in the Vale has the sort of opening hours designed to annoy pub tickers, no… Continue reading IN THE VALE OF THE WHITE HORSE
You’ll remember my failed attempt to conquer Corsham, whose bizarre Flemish Weaver had suddenly switched to Winter hours just as I tipped up in Autumn. Well, I never give up. My immediate thought – “Have I entered the ultimate care home ?”. Room after room off a passageway to the bar, each with be-cardiganed gentlefolk… Continue reading A RETURN TO THE FLEMISH WEAVER