Summer by the seaside. Can’t beat it. Unless you’re a ticker when a wet winter Wednesday in Wednesfield is wonderful. Saundersfoot isn’t quite Tenby, but it looked pretty special on the descent to the beach. If Tenby is the Welsh Whitby, then Saundersfoot is its Filey, I guess. Nowt wrong with Filey, as Richard Coldwell… Continue reading “Please do not approach the bar”. Saundersfoot lays down the law.
Tag: Wales
MY PLANS FOR WELSH GBG DOMINATION COME TO RUINS IN NARBERTH
“How are you getting on with the blog ?” shouts Mrs RM, in-between demands for more coffee and breakfast in bed. Note she hasn’t asked how I’m getting on with cross-checking the new GBG I think she thinks I’m not doing it anymore. Well, Mrs RM, I’m in Wales in mid-August, about to tick a… Continue reading MY PLANS FOR WELSH GBG DOMINATION COME TO RUINS IN NARBERTH
ARRIVING BY TRACTOR AT TEGRYN
Every year’s Good Beer Guide has a handful of “Signature Ticks”, the pubs with odd opening hours, require two ferries from the mainland, or have absolutely no social media presence. The completist targets these ones early in the year, and holds their breath. So it was with the Butchers Arms in tiny Tegryn in August.… Continue reading ARRIVING BY TRACTOR AT TEGRYN
THE PUB TICKERS FEAR OF TICKING THE WRONG WELSH PUB
Once I’d triumphantly completed the GBG on 10 September there was a period of intense worry, similar to the one experienced by Ben Curtis after winning the British Open in 2003. Have I signed the card correctly ? Did I miss the 17th hole out completely ? Back home from the Taversoe (which sadly failed… Continue reading THE PUB TICKERS FEAR OF TICKING THE WRONG WELSH PUB
EVERYTHING’S GONE GREEN – LLANDEILO LICKED
It seems odd to be writing about Summer with November approaching, but it was 20 degrees in Waterbeach yesterday, and as I headed to a fateful rendezvous with the Pubmeister in Haverfordwest to complete Wales, the sun was shining on the righteous. Look ! #NoFilter This was Llandeilo (pop. 1,795), a smart little Carmarthenshire town… Continue reading EVERYTHING’S GONE GREEN – LLANDEILO LICKED
GLAMORGAN HAD FALLEN
Young BRAPA is gorging on Gwent at the moment, so I know he’d want to see what a fully pinked Welsh county looks like. I completed Glamorgan back in July at one of the dullest pubs in the Guide, but a quick look at the OS extract for St Athan reveals hidden depths. Here, a… Continue reading GLAMORGAN HAD FALLEN
BASS AND CARLING BY THE JUG IN PORTHCAWL. BUT NOT FOR ME.
Closing in on the last knockings of Glamorgan now, with a trip to the Skegness of the West. Well, actually Porthcawl isn’t that exciting, so perhaps it’s more a Felixstowe. Does Felixstowe have a hotel with Bass ? The Lorelei had been taunting me for some years with itr’s offer of all day seaside hospitality… Continue reading BASS AND CARLING BY THE JUG IN PORTHCAWL. BUT NOT FOR ME.
PERSISTENCE PAYS OFF IN PENCOED
A reminder to those of you asking where all the close-ups of Welsh strict Methodist chapels from this trip are; sign up to be a Patronised reader to get that content. The Welsh week wasn’t entirely without fraught moment, the Little Penybont Arms in Pencoed deciding to be unexpectedly shut. After reading through the Facebook… Continue reading PERSISTENCE PAYS OFF IN PENCOED
14:08 : YSTALYFERA FEAR AT THE WERN FAWR
Yet ANOTHER Welsh village that only the Welsh can pronounce, and Wiki tells me that 1,812 of Ystalyfera’s population of 3,019 speak Welsh, so they’re fine. I know we need the big map to see where Ystalyfera lies, on the edge of the Valleys but a safe distance from That Merthyr, but it’s the Ordnance… Continue reading 14:08 : YSTALYFERA FEAR AT THE WERN FAWR
“Those were the days, my friend”. Pubbing Pontardawe.
The great mid-July conquering of Glamorgan continued with a trip to Pontardawe, which I have on occasion confused with Pontardulais, with disastrous results. I know you only read this rubbish to equip yourselves to visit obscure Swansea Valley towns, so you should know that Pontardawe is famed as the birthplace of this McCartney pro·tégé. Mary… Continue reading “Those were the days, my friend”. Pubbing Pontardawe.
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