Look, it sounds a bit like Panic at the Disco, okay??
I'm writing this with a bit o' red wine and Aussie punk rock in my system, in case the blog seems scattier than usual.
There's been a bit of chat recently re 'are there too many pubs in the Good Beer Guide?' A subject up for discussion at the forthcoming CAMRA AGM in everyone's favourite UK beer capital, Torquay ....
The answer of course is 'YES FAR TOO MANY!' ....
But this doesn't mean I'd vote for a reduction from the current 4,500 total though - think Mrs Doyle with her new Teasmaid ....
I find a twisted joy in those moments where I enter some shabby stink hole, order a pint of the perma-cloudy slop of their only cask, hidden behind a food menu, grunted at by some fag ash Lil who's never even heard of CAMRA, get growled at by a skinhead with a dog, the only other customers, as I internally scream 'HOW THE FUCK DID THIS GET ANYWHERE NEAR A GBG?? I'D LOVE TO HAVE BEEN A FLY ON THE WALL IN THAT PARTICULAR CAMRA MEETING THE UTTER DORKS HA HA!'
(But I know it'll be a fun pub to write-up in my blog).
Take my recent trip to Alnwick is a prime example of what I'm wittering on about. And I have nowt against Alnwick, a solid pub town.
Good experiences on my previous trips to three of the current GBG entries plus the one I loved best which isn't currently in the Guide, the John Bull
Ah, KLO - the streets will remember you
Btw, how shit must the John Bull's beer currently be for it not to get in this year?
If two desultory new entries weren't enough, I added a third 'pre-emptive' pub to my list. Because it opened early. Greene King had done their best to GK the shit out of it internally, but I LOVE a historic tale of intrigue, the seasonal guest ale was very well kept, so Dirty Bottles I'd actually recommend if you're up here ...
Only eerie happening was when Big John (visiting from Stockport) left his nervous Thai Bride unattended to go for a spooky poo and left the hand dryer on to blow hot air around through the gaps .... thankfully, nothing else escaped through the gaps ....
A few doors down, GBG entry Black Swan seems to be going by the abysmal name of the Hairy Lemon these days. It wasn't open bang on 12 noon, which had me sweating like Bonnie Blue at St Albans beer festival.
'Great beer!'
12:08pm and I'm in. Sleepy gloomy long haired yoof grunts when I ask (for a friend) if they open 12 noon every weekday. One beer on. Theakston's Bitter. Looking all lonely. Not even a Carling and Strongbow font to rub shoulders with. Look, I'm not averse to one cask pubs but there's a subtle distinction. Those who do it purposely to 'maintain quality' knowing they don't shift a lot. And the others, those who plonk a real ale on as a token gesture - I suspect this was the latter. However, I'm surprised to find it in great condition. Even more surprised as I've grown up finding Theaky B. (no relation to Daddy B.) one of the blandest out there. Well not today, Jose! The pub can be viewed as utter shite or bloody beautiful depending what lens you view it through. It has a delicious side room with leaded windows, bench seating and fireplace. Yet the majority of the pub stretching up towards the bar is grim modern cack. Makes you think. But what, I'm not sure exactly.
Across the road and a bit closer to the bus station, too many signs outside our next tick the Market Tavern - which funnily enough is never a good sign. "We don't sell this", "We can't do that", "Please don't suck this", "Please don't put THAT in THERE" etc. etc.
p.s sorry if my fonts gone weird today, it seems to have unset my custom font so let me know if it is a problem reading ....
But once inside, initial impressions are good. Cheerful barmaid, warm pub, that 'joined up together feel' helped largely by a couple supping a gallon of red wine at the bar and wobbling on their stools at 1pm, pub scenes you love to see. "I'll just go and look at the ales" I tell her, shuffling around the other side at the sight of four empty handpumps. But there are none here either. Shipyard Pale it is. Fine , but not very GBG. She laments on the fact this morning's beer delivery should've come yesterday, and being chief cook and bottle washer, she's not had time to put them on. But hang on, wouldn't that mean no one had any ale yesterday either then? And what about Monday and Tuesday? How long have they been ale-less? I didn't ask. She wasn't exaggerating though, ripping open a six pack of stotties at a million miles an hour, plonking two on plates next to a big bowls of soup, and running it around the corner to an old couple. Like Ready, Steady, Coooook, with extra O's for being in the North East. Then straight over to me to stoke / poke the fire and add kindling. And she's still friendly and chatty. C'mon, where are the extra staff? Was like watching Gustavo Puerta in the Hull City midfield.
My day would get better, but no time for that now. I've gotta go to Ghana cos my Ebusua Dwarves side are away at Legon Cities, and then I must clean a self cleaning oven AFTER DARK.
Then sit down with a cuppa and catch up on Neighbours before bed. What a sad little life.
See you next time, maybe, or just down south on Saturday.
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