Saturday #1
It’s been a while, but town called on Saturday night, and when town calls, you’ve just got to go.
We met in “Fade the Hard to Find Café” which, unfortunately, was both open and ridiculously easy to find, what with it having the word “Fade” written on the window in three foot high letters. I still can’t understand why anyone would go in there when two doors down is the Lincolnshire Poacher. But I left the arrangements to someone else, and some else chose “Fade the P**s Easy to Find S**thole”. They serve real ale in there now, which makes a change from having to pretend you like gassy water dressed up as foreign lager. However, only one pump and that was the ever so massively bland Nottingham Rock Bitter. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.
At least I managed to persuade the rest of the group that you couldn’t walk past the Lincolnshire Poacher. It would have taken some Mr T style chloroform technique to make me miss it. A nice pint of Ossett Brewery’s Woodsman in their conservatory round the back.
According to local legend, you’re not supposed to pass the Nag’s Head without having a drink, lest you get hung before being pardoned, but looking at the state of the place from the other side of the road, hanging might have been a better option given the choice. It must be the legend that’s the only thing keeping them open.
Down to The Peacock (and avoiding the dullard filled Golden Fleece) for a nice sit down with a few pints of Deuchars. They don’t serve to the tables any more in the best side, but they don’t like it when you press the buzzers as they haven’t been disconnected yet. Maybe after Saturday they would have worn out.
As numbers dwindled away, the rest of us staggered round the corner to the Orange Tree for some relationship advice (not me !!) and dodgy beer, Elsie Mo (nice) & Brakespear’s Bitter (not so nice). We were clearly the eldest people in what is most definitely a student pub, but again, beggars wanting a late pint can’t be too choosy. But quite why the clearly under-age girl asked three aging, balding (again not me !!) and un-hip funsters as ourselves where she could find the nearest R&B club I have no idea. I didn’t know, I still don’t know and quite honestly, I’ll never know, thank-you very much.
The first weekend of a triple header, ended by an unfamiliarly larger than expected head-ache, is out of the way, roll on the Horse & Groom next Saturday, and an all-dayer the weekend after.
It must be pay-day !!!
We met in “Fade the Hard to Find Café” which, unfortunately, was both open and ridiculously easy to find, what with it having the word “Fade” written on the window in three foot high letters. I still can’t understand why anyone would go in there when two doors down is the Lincolnshire Poacher. But I left the arrangements to someone else, and some else chose “Fade the P**s Easy to Find S**thole”. They serve real ale in there now, which makes a change from having to pretend you like gassy water dressed up as foreign lager. However, only one pump and that was the ever so massively bland Nottingham Rock Bitter. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.
At least I managed to persuade the rest of the group that you couldn’t walk past the Lincolnshire Poacher. It would have taken some Mr T style chloroform technique to make me miss it. A nice pint of Ossett Brewery’s Woodsman in their conservatory round the back.According to local legend, you’re not supposed to pass the Nag’s Head without having a drink, lest you get hung before being pardoned, but looking at the state of the place from the other side of the road, hanging might have been a better option given the choice. It must be the legend that’s the only thing keeping them open.
Down to The Peacock (and avoiding the dullard filled Golden Fleece) for a nice sit down with a few pints of Deuchars. They don’t serve to the tables any more in the best side, but they don’t like it when you press the buzzers as they haven’t been disconnected yet. Maybe after Saturday they would have worn out.
As numbers dwindled away, the rest of us staggered round the corner to the Orange Tree for some relationship advice (not me !!) and dodgy beer, Elsie Mo (nice) & Brakespear’s Bitter (not so nice). We were clearly the eldest people in what is most definitely a student pub, but again, beggars wanting a late pint can’t be too choosy. But quite why the clearly under-age girl asked three aging, balding (again not me !!) and un-hip funsters as ourselves where she could find the nearest R&B club I have no idea. I didn’t know, I still don’t know and quite honestly, I’ll never know, thank-you very much.The first weekend of a triple header, ended by an unfamiliarly larger than expected head-ache, is out of the way, roll on the Horse & Groom next Saturday, and an all-dayer the weekend after.
It must be pay-day !!!
posted by Lucky Col at
4:54 PM
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