At this point I'm feeling like Father Ted doing his speech when he wins the 'Golden Cleric' award.
"We've had the pubs that really fecked me over, and the absolute baaarstards, we'll now move on to the ones that underwhelmed me greatly".
Yes, none of this next bunch are bad pubs in my experience. Just not very good.
38. Brewery Inn, Seend Cleeve
Another day in Wilts, another cracking inn sign, another pub that doesn't quite live up to that promise. A large group of large men who look (and almost certainly sound) like our pumpkin lover above are effin' and jeffin' in the beer garden. I look over and offer a gentle 'hello' They squint into the sun to see if they recognise me , realise they don't, turn their backs and carry on. Tranquil setting, almost deep in the countryside between two busy roads to the north and south, it has an unenviable mixture of yokels and boss-eyed tourists. The slightly 'closed' reception stretches indoors, quite a decent tatty boozer otherwise. But the angle at which locals and daytrippers are stretched out mean that space is limited, and with the sun high in the sky for once, the terrace towards the back seems preferable. RetiredMartin had a poor pint of Otter here last year, and although I think the barrel MIGHT have been changed since then, mine starts promisingly but is pretty darn tired by the end. In fact, I pop into the nearby non GBG Barge Inn (a touristy canalside Wadworth house) a few minutes later, and the beer is in much better shape here.
37. Bell, Lacock
Surprising to see this so low on the list, especially considering I devised (not devized .... sorry) the thing. Lacock is a 'national trust village' which I think means it is a pretty tourist trap. Although this pub is out on the outskirts, it didn't stop the march of the flock. An interesting 'roadwalk' led me here, half pedestrian friendly (they'd even built a wooden bridge which was fun) but some sections you really had to have your wits about you to watch the traffic! Inside, it is sleepy and a bit foody, but with enough of an old-style pub nod so as not to be jarring. Like at Seend Cleeve earlier, the angle at which the few indoor customers have positioned their hips, elbows, knees and toes means that there is a deceptively small amount of remaining indoor space. So I head to the large beer garden, which is a horrific play area / doggie friendly zone full of well fed upper middle class twerps from 1980's Top Man catalogues. Thankfully, the beer is in good shape. Pirate's Pet by Parkway, very malty, and weirdly, the beer I saw most often throughout my holiday. This was my last day, so I thought I'd better finally try it.
36. Fox & Hounds, Warminster
Is there a worse smelling place in the UK than Warminster? Smelt like bin day, but I didn't see one binman, or refuse collector and it didn't matter which part of the town I went to, it was everywhere. Yuk! No wonder the folk of Warminster had the gloomiest expressions in all Wiltshire. This pub was out of town up a hill, and I was drenched having been caught in a torrential rainstorm back in Corsley. I arrive, with my 'iconic' Icelandic hat on, absolutely dripping. The pub is old skool, and has an unhealthy gaggle of locals in this main bar. Despite my smile, I get nothing. Normally in these circs, a sodden me especially in this hat is the perfect route into conversation. Lady behind the bar is cheerful, I'll give them that. And then ignominy of all ignominies, one bloke glances at me and it seems to remind him, as he turns to the landlady "wot time tharr' CAMRA lot due in tonight?" "They're BOTH in at 7" she tells him. Two people or two groups? Well, my Proper Job which started above average is taking on a vinegary twang towards the end so I hope CAMRA get something better or they'll be deguiding it. And we don't want that, we don't like churn! Most people are watching the snooker. I'm obviously supporting the young Chinese superstar called Si, but the locals all seem to want the Scottish lad to win. Even when he requires about five snookers. Wonder why? One bloke, not a regular either to my surprise, returns his empty glass (it is the mark of a man) and tells her "lovely pint that!" but when he leaves, two locals chuckle and roll their eyes. Note to self! Weird place this, didn't feel remotely welcoming. Lucky to be as high as 36th but I have a weakness for proper boozers.
35. Flying Monk, Chippenham
Okay, so Chippenham wasn't quite the ivy clad, wall-creeping, thatched chocolate box village I'd been imagining in my mind's eye, goldcrests twittering around each window frame, but it did have some of the stronger pubs this holiday. This however, wasn't one of them. Although when I mention this view to a few Wilts folk later in the week, they express surprise, so perhaps I didn't see it at its best. To me, it was a dark, gloomy functional bare boarded sort of place with a pugnacious undercurrent. Everyone at the bar grunts a lot, so Neanderthal by Caveman seems a perfect choice of ale for the occasion. The bloke who pulls it has giant arms, and pulls it with a ferocity which fits with what I've seen so far. In fact, this might be a BRAPA world record for quickest an ale has been pulled. Two yanks, and it was done. Ooof! Noticing a dog with terrified eyes willing me to get out whilst the going in good (or was it just bored?), I climb some steps and drink my ale (good strong malty stuff) alone in a raised area. When I go to the loo, I glance down towards the bar briefly and the scary men are now laughing like silly schoolgirls, so maybe I imagined the mild peril. In any case, it all just seemed a bit of a dull experience.
34. Quarryman's Arms, Box
We'll end part three with another pub that I didn't dislike, it was just totally uneventful. Gorgeous location up a steep hill from an obscure bus stop, you can tell we're close to the Somerset border now cos the ales are all Butcombe, I even get to witness my first Coronation themed brew. It was this entire pub experience, in a glass! I'm the only customer, in fact I'm the only person. Five minutes until a staff member emerges, looking shocked to see a customer. Gives me chance to admire the beautiful vista from a large window, and have a wander around, photographing with a gay abandon which would have Mr Enford dialling 999. I'm grateful for the shady well dressed Spanish couple who arrive to check in for the night. They want to eat at 9pm, but the pub will only go as late as 8:30pm, and take them to their room with the instruction "we'll see you then!" so I hope they didn't feel like they had to be prisoners in their room until then. Four Butcombe Cervezas to try after all. Well, that's what I'd be thinking. End.
Exciting weekend coming up, so I'll most likely see you on Tuesday 9th where we'll take our first look at the Swindon and Salisbury pubs which didn't quite hit the spot.
See you then, Si
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