One of the surprise bonuses of being a 'Dedicated Pub Blogger™ ' is that it regulates my drinking. If I'm suddenly weeks behind on my blogging, I know I've been overdoing the pubbing and need to make a few Thursday's considerably less thirsty. (I couldn't imagine staying in on a Saturday though!)
Anyway, let's get to some fairly decent Leicestershire pubs which I probably had the odd gripe with but can ultimately appreciate.
19. Bakers Arms, Blaby
The pub equivalent of running the length of the pitch, beating eleven men, then tripping over your bootlaces when presented with an open goal. The building feels every century of its 1485 claims, groaning warped beams sink in towards you in warm companionship, just as they had when my ancestors enjoyed a frothing pint of 'Sir Everitt of Hull's Tiger' back in the day, chin-wagging over King Henry's latest invasion plans. So why oh why oh why would you ruin it by reserving the entire left hand side for invisible diners? Yes, 100% of villagers in here this evening just want a drink, which they are forced to do stood uncomfortably squashed between the nooks and crannies, accepting 'that is how it is'. Pubs, I'll never understand them. Restaurants in disguise? Even less. Come on Blaby babies, rise up against the oppression, drinkers are NOT second class citizens.
18. Babelas, Leicester
This curio is busier than expected, but as tomorrow is a working day, no repeat of my Blaby fiasco. Nicely carved out bar, though I can't quite work out what brand of 'continental' they are going for, I'm thinking perhaps Far East or even Middle East with some elaborate decor, and what looks to be some uncovered original tiling. You'd expect it to be doing some brand of spicy cuisine, but I'm pleased to see a wet-led set. Mixed ages and sexes always makes for a more interesting, healthier environment. The loos are up a gravity defying flight of stairs like Central London is reverse, and the guy in the pink Camden hoodie is a candidate for most impressive staff of the week. The Oakham Citra isn't quite up to GBG standard, but being the thriker of an ale it is, just about gets away with it. Starts to get a bit doggified with cliquey spatial awareness lacking Bohos pouring in towards the end, so I'd timed my visit well.
17. High Cross, Leicester
'Twas a long walk from Babelas to this late night 'Spoons, and I'd rate it in the 70-85% bracket of top Timbo tavs. Surprised that I'm impressed given that my only other Leicester 'Spoons experience, the Last Plantagenet (never GBG to my knowledge) was DREADFUL - one bored barmaid with no urgency struggling to serve a zillion 10am football fans. I don't think I've had a longer wait at a bar outside of a gig / festival! To paraphrase Dr David Starkey, 'a crummy Spoons for a crummy King'. Dirge pint too. High Cross is far better. Waistcoated legend barman gives my Mudgie Voucher a good scrutinise before accepting it (we are close to the 1st April cut off), looks up where New Buildings brewery is just for me. The carpet is a grubby 7/10 but has potential, my stout drinks great, the foundations are shaky, and a judgey Moira Stewart reminds us it is nearly last orders by giving the games machines a good wipe and squirt. And that's how any pub day should end.
16. Elbow Room, Hinckley
I've never quite got on with Hinckley as a pub town despite the love it receives from most quarters, only the New Plough Inn has made me smile a genuine smile! It didn't help that I wasn't in a good frame of mind when I arrived here on Good Friday lunchtime, drenched from a heavy downpour, having just discovered that my Stoke Golding bound bus had somehow bisected the area around the station and gone straight through to the bus station, leaving me soggy and lacking. Morale boosting tick though Elbow Room was, it was pretty antiseptic with few soft edges, and an overly fizzy cask Sesh from Almasty which tasted like sparkling water didn't help. A trio of codgers chat Christianity and the Earl Shilton drinking scene, and a bloke silently straightens a woman's hair without asking, which was like watching some Attenborough Gorilla documentary. One for the craft connoisseur rather than the pub lover perhaps, but a decent place to perch for 27.5 mins.
15. Everards Meadows, Enderby
Good grief, it was like Everards had taken over an empty bit of the South Leics countryside and decided to build build build! This huge beer hall was a cacophony of crazy Easter nobbers, and my first thought was what the 'eck have I walked into. And when I'm usurped from my comfy low down seat which always felt so good to be true, I'm ready to rank this bottom. "Well, where do you suggest I sit?" I snap at the usurper in chief, probably a Chloe or an Emz. She suggests I ask two grizzly dudes if I can share with them, and luckily for this demonic Everards model, they are lovely chaps who love the BRAPA concept and don't even stop asking me about the vagaries of rural Bucks when their delicious looking fish & chips arrive. My Octopus Sucky Pale is the BEST Everard's I've had in years, and I've had some piss poor Everard's in the last decade (apart from Tiger of course, which as we know was first imbibed by my 15th century ancestors - who incidentally first came up with the idea of throwing your piss bucket out of the window into the Newark streets). So anyway, grudging respect and a doffed cap to this happy hellhole, you've done a fine job.
14. Sapcote Club, Sapcote
One-upmanship. It's like an illness for some people, they just can't help themselves can they? I'm stood in the road of this isolated thru-village, and the weather is interchanging between bright warm sunshine and dark grey stormy rainclouds. No surprise there is a bright rainbow stretching across the horizon. I tell a passing hooded crone "beautiful isn't it?" to which crone replies "well I saw a double rainbow earlier, you should've seen that, even nicer" before shuffling off with a superior chuckle. After muttering some choice words under my breath which rhyme with Cluck Brew, I enter this stolid old doss shop and choose Ghost Ship from a range of GS, Directors or Cornish Best, the kinda range that'll have Beer Twitterati (Xerati?) retreating to Elbow Room at the first opportunity. Biggest shame here is the lack of seating in the main area, I did a thorough recce but not a sausage, so I have to relegate myself around the pillar, half hidden but thankfully near the loos which is something I hate having to find in a club. Folk occasionally wander past me and say hi, which is a nice touch, but 5th pint syndrome so I don't remember a lot, just irritating rainbows and feeling hazy!
Why do photos like this only appear on my phone in pub five?
So there we go. Hope that wasn't too controversial. Please comment below, and I'll not read a word you say (for 4 weeks).
See you tomorrow for six more if I've got time, constant blogging requires the same level of discipline that visiting a rural pub in Norfolk does.
Comments