Weekend at last! I always think the week after Easter feels like the longest working week in the entire year, apart from everything in January. But most of you've probably not done an honest day's work in years so apologies for alienating you.
Anyway. hope you are enjoy this little Leicestershire countdown. Order has got a bit skewed so don't take it too literally, in fact this first pub has held off 'til now simply because I forgot it existed!
13. Real Ale Classroom, Lutterworth
With chipboard, ooops sorry, oriented strand board, on the wall (thanks Matt 'wood pedant' Lawrenson for correcting me), this was one of three RAC's I visited this week, and I'm sure it won't be long until Market Harborough gets one too. Presuming they all have a specific subject theme, this felt mostly Chemistry lab, and a professor type tells me to be careful of the wood (not bunsen) burner, my Midnight Express stout from Salopian just had too much weirdness going on, and I'm told the pub has an excellent bee garden, which may've been a typo, but in any case, this place lacked a bit of sting.
Bloke plugs in his lager and waits for science to do something
12. Admiral Nelson, Market Harborough
Second time lucky at this relatively impressive back-streeter, I'd got inside earlier this week, even laid hands on the bar and had an eager puppy jump up at me, before the landlady told me they weren't open til 5pm! It wasn't even noon. Why have your door unlocked? Their Facebook was right, but silly me just looked at Google. I had better luck on the Sunday lunchtime, again the first/only customer, ask if she remembers me, she does (vaguely), and assures me they keep trying to update Google but it keeps falling on deaf ears .... I heard the same at East Leake's Round Robinn but most pubs manage it so I'm not sure. No puppy to jump up at me today, in training for a charity run with Daddy Nelson, the duo return exhausted and soggy later on. A Charlie Wells pub this, and a decent seasonal guest, 'you're so southern, your practically Beds' Colin chants at his cauli half pint. Wot a lad. Lovely chat with landlady anyway, I'll give her 'staff of the week' award. Decent redemption story this for the AN.
11. Beerhouse, Market Harborough
My final pub of the holiday wasn't coming quietly as the door was jammed. A sturdy looking Goth lady came to the rescue, but her group raised a skeptical eyebrow when I tried to protest it wasn't because I'm a weakling. Barman seems keen to sell me a trad bitter with a 'modern twist', Phipps Red Star, and that freed up the giant gang of International Students to keep ploughing their way through the murk n sourz. Very much is a beer house, spartan, cold hard scratched floor, not a lot of furniture (nice upholstered pattern seat though!), one for the beer lovers just as Elbow Room in Hinckley had been, but I was riding the crest of a wave from a 'ticking week well done' , wearing my imaginary "I Survived Ashley and Weston by Welland" badge, so felt in good spirits throughout. The door opens first time on the way out, so I give the Goth gang a cheer and a wave, but they're too busy thinking about The Cure, graveyards, jackdaws and black eyeliner to give much of a shit.
10. Tap at No. 76, Ashby de la Zouch
My debut at the awful to reach ADLZ, a zillion miles from Leicester on the bus, no train, probably best approached from Derbyshire, but even then, only really easy from some dead n alive hole like Swadlincote and if you are thinking about going there, you may as well spend your life in Corby. I like Ashby straight away. Happy sunny market street, feel good vibes and streaming sun continue into this perky midday micro. I immediately call the 'Affogato' coffee mild 'Arrogate' cos I've had a few decent coffees in 'Arrogate over the years. Barman doesn't laugh at me, which is kind of him, just moves a 1990's Epson printer with a flourish. A group of blokes of a 'certain age' (and when I say that, I mean between 55-69) walk in, I suspect they might be from West Yorkshire cos they seem desperate to make their presence known when no one cares, and say "eeee, do you need to see our ID?" which no one finds vaguely amusing. L**ds most probably. They think Revie won it all fairly. A young woman hides a boutique dog in her jacket, and her boyfriend fawns. And that's it, I liked the place.
But why would you use such a swirly font?
Spot the dog
9. Mash & Press, Anstey
And whilst we're on the subject of micros that achieve greatness despite their useless names, let's move to the balmy spring evening of Easter Saturday, and the approach to this little upstairs corker had me feeling like I was off to tend a horse in a stable in Dogtanian and the Three Muskahounds. 'One for all, and all for one, the BRAPA boozehound is always ready'. Though it had hints of 'Bangladeshi dosshouse on stilts escaping floods and snakes' about it too. Funny what fifth pint of the day syndrome does to you isn't it? The barman's floppy ears didn't help, but on closer inspection, they are Easter chicks. Top guy anyway, did I detect a hint of Australian? Do I mention Neighbours? Missed my chance! He tries to put me off the local session bitter, but I'm determined. He's right, proper swilly homebrew. But just a very nice atmosphere, where moaning Foxes kept saying "I can't believe it!" Victor Meldrew style. "15 points and you effed it up" chants Colin, and I have to tell him to simmer down. Can't take Yeovil fans anywhere!
8. Bridge 61, Foxton
On my first morning, 10am, and I'm determined to make a 'statement of intent' and get a difficult pub greened up. Sadly, the BRAPA research hadn't revealed that despite being able to get a bus out to Foxton, it is still a further 25 minute walk along the canal. Thankfully the sun was out. Not a given this holiday (or this year!) AND I had to make sure I didn't go into the more obvious 'Foxton Locks Inn' next door. Canalside pubs are mainly bollocks, but this was a class above. It has a narrow main bar, queuing really is necessary here, and I had a lengthy wait as the two in front order complex breakfasts. Just when I thought they were done, the lady asked for an extra plate of double eggs on toast. "It isn't all for me!" she claims, unconvincingly. Hubbie raises a dangerous eyebrow. And when I'm finally in, the beers haven't been switched on yet so I have to wait a bit longer. It isn't all bad though, it gives the regular oldies, sat around drinking coffee and discussing local lock gate issues a chance to bugger off, leaving me with best seat in the house. The guv'nor is a top organiser, stoking the fire whilst checking on the army of staff start cooking breakfasts for the masses - some regret he gives Col the side eye and never engages with me at any stage, because I was well impressed with how this place went about things, and a good pint too in a cosy main bar, bubbling fire and frying eggs competing with regular pops.
And that's yer lot.
I'll try and be back on Sunday but it'll most likely be Monday cos I've got tonnes of washing, ironing and other tasks to do, plus I might want a lie-in after tomorrow's pubbing! Drunk just thinking about it.
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