Welcome back! Part two, and don't be surprised if I'm still writing about this Glos et al holiday when the new Good Beer Guide is published in September.
Let's look at some pubs which either left me 'slightly miffed' or meant well but were totally lame.
Stroud Brewery Tap, Thrupp
My controversial take of 'I don't think Stroud beer is all it's cracked up to be, EVEN in their own brewery tap' became less controversial when not one, two or three, but FOUR different #PubPeople who'd visited recently all told me they'd had similar poor beer experiences here recently. I felt vindicated. One wise bloke took it further, suggesting they're putting so much emphasis on being eco-friendly, not to mention their scran (which smells and looks amazing btw) that they've taken the eye off the ball with regards to beer. I might've been slightly happier if service hadn't been slow and slap dash. Or if everyone in this perceived 'modern' brew tap wasn't actually a pensioner with wrinkled face in a bowl of street food. And especially if I hadn't been usurped from a cosier corner booth because a lady reckoned she'd got there first. "I'd left my sunglasses case!" she says, waggling it at me as I scoop up poor Colin who was just getting comfy.
*to brew our beer?
Beehive, Cheltenham
Two independent sources told me I might (low key) enjoy this Montpellier back streeter, "gastro in a non-irritating way" said one bloke. Well that jinxed it! One sup of my Whakapapa (NZ cousin of Daddy BRAPA) tells me it is off. Not vinegar, but that more difficult to return horrid dry apple taste which Sir Quinno once told me was something to do with an acid, and I'd remember the details if beer wasn't the most boring subject on God's earth. Sure enough, barmaid is fumin'. She passes it to the local barfly / beer expert / stooge / her Dad / all of the above. I know where this is going. "Absolutely fine, been drinking it all day mate!" he declares, it barely having passed his lips (oh and conveniently, he ain't drinking it now). To show I have no faith in their cask at all, I ask for a Jezza Clarkson's Hawkstone lager as replacement. She charges me the difference. Of course she does. What an improvement! Never thought I'd been saying that when I entered the pub. And 25 mins later, anger subsiding, I'm warming to the place. It's a bit twinkle twinkle little hip-star, but it has heart and a community back street soothing thrum. I even briefly consider going back for another ... but nah, too much pride to crawl back to the ale now, and besides it'd already been a long day and I'd not eaten since arriving in Chelt so back to my airless Air b n b it was.
"The fizziest lager ..... in the worrrrrlllld"
Old Elm Inn, Churchdown
'Oooh, I'll tell you a vintage era of pubbing .... 2020/21. Let's do our best to recreate that!' calls this pub's inner voice. Now call me a traditionalist but I prefer leaning on the bar so I can at least see my pint being pulled, and then carrying it over to a table. But here, I'm swarmed by a cheerful army of 18 year olds (probably being home-schooled 5 yrs ago) who chirp in unison "Si, sit down, and we'll bring it over". "Okay, but please, let me pay now, I beseech you!" I plead when my HPA (fabulous quality btw) is presented to me, having those flashbacks of accidentally wandering off without paying at the end, only to be embarrassingly called back. The pub is a cavernous gastro dullard. And remarkably 'Surrey' for one in a village between Cheltenham & Gloucester.
Nottingham Arms, Tewkesbury
Tewkesiebabes was such a high class town in every single way (it felt like an undiscovered York) that the mediocrity of this lameoid was only accentuated. It smelled so strongly of chip fat, I could feel my arteries hardening just being there. The staff are bored A.F. and the pub is empty. The front bar is a horrid wooden higgledy-piggledy mess of high seating. Slightly better further back, with carpet and beams, but they've covered their Robin Hood mural with a plasma and none of seats are conducive to settling in for a session. And although the barman briefly rises from his torpor to tell me the Laine from Brighton is 'fresh on', it sure doesn't taste it! York has about ten pubs of this standard which wouldn't get anywhere near the GBG, so I can be reassured my home city is better .... for pubs at least!
How to ruin your one nice pub feature
Inne at Fossebridge, Fossebridge
In an astonishing dip in the main road north of Cirencester, south of core Cotswold lands, the River Coln merrily trickling around the back to remind me I need a wee ... AGAIN, this was perhaps the poshest pub all holiday. Shame Geoff Collins never put in an appearance, because the landlady was like a prissy head mistress, certainly not in the mood for my jolly bantz as I enter the pub with Paul G. for my final Gloucs tick of the holiday. She has Wimbledon on a plasma behind the bar (Heather Watson, not highlights of Alan Cork and Terry Gibson), sitting down wind of a cool fan .... and I was jealous of anyone with a fan this holiday, having been cruelly denied by my Air BnB host Savannah, who ironically is named after a dry African plain. The Goff's Jouster drank well enough to keep them in the 2026 GBG most probably, and the pubs plethora of mascots wouldn't let Colin sit with them cos he looked too grubby. I felt exactly the same. Top tip - get someone kind to drive you to this one.
Snobs the lot of 'em
Trumpet Inn, Evesham
55th feels a tad harsh, because this pub did nothing wrong. It just didn't put any effort into doing anything right, sleepwalking towards relegation in a way Hull City fans might understand. But it wasn't the loveable Tigers that were the apple of this pubs eye, but Liverpool F.C. Plastic as fuck (like my Saffron Walden classmates), or a Scouser emigrated? I'd spied this lovely red room to the left, and lord knows I approve of a bit of colour in my pubs, though the seating was very 'last dance at a wedding evening do at the local club'. It was only when I opened my eyes properly that I realised it was 'themed', even down to the dartboard. Pub's too hot, staff are bored as shit, too bored to smile, and a man with a sunburnt knee thrills his mates by reminding them that Aston Villa made Europe last season. The Hook Norton Gold drank decently, and a bit of piped Billy Joel lifts my spirits. But Evesham has a better pub, which we'll get to in a later part.
Lord John, Stroud
My lowest ranked 'Spoons in this countdown just felt a bit grotty and down at heel. Trying to neck a quality Jaipur at 10:50am in under 20 minutes to make the bus to Minchinhampton was made extra challenging by a swarm of flies circling above me. But it was early enough in the holiday to convince me I'd not reached 'rotting corpse' levels quite yet. Main barmaid is great at marshalling the dodgy codgers and hi-vis work men into some kind of bar order, but she breaks the bad news that the kitchen is 'broken' and cooked breakfasts are not available. "We still have fruit, yoghurts and juice" she cries, but their expressions said it all! I returned here TWICE for halves of Plum Porter and Jaipur later in the holiday, but no one believed my Jaipur was a half due to the angle of the photo, and I was gradually warming to the place. It made for a good base. But it still felt like a good scrub would be beneficial. No wonder Stroud had a random unexplained cluster of meningitis back in the 80's on this evidence.
Cobblers, Newent
Fair to say Newent wasn't my favourite pub town of the holiday. Having suffered through the quite dire King's Arms, I arrive here to find fifty shades of grey and a band of 'tight-knit' bar blocking locals and a Welsh beer straight from the barrel which tastes like tepid salty bathwater. Ever watched Saltburn? Like that, but Rhys Ifans rather than Timothee Chalamet. But despite my initial despair, it is a grower (of sorts). The fifty shades is at least plush, comfy, loungey, well, 'car showroom chic'. The locals are quite friendly and jokey when I finally pluck up courage to ask for the WiFi code. And the bus is on time to take me back to Gloucester. This place has won Gloucs micropub of the year, someone must be seeing something I couldn't!
And there we have it, well done if you made it through and read every word.
Just looking at the pubs I'll be covering in part 3 (hopefully on Friday, but maybe Sunday depending on 'lethargy' related issues!) and they aren't shite, they're mostly alright.
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