435. Fri 22/6/18: The Blue Boar, Leicester

Beer: Exit 33 Stout 4.7%

Just down the road from The Criterion – appraisal of this place, according to my write up, stymied by the amount of time and drink we enjoyed beforehand. Notes, verbatim, go:

Crafty brewpub. Excellent place. Good beer. No tellies. One big, rectangle, room – Czech beerhallesque. Too piney… I dunno, I’m guessing – I’m increasingly pissed.

Good place – no music, tellies or owt… just conversation, which rankles over aged folk saying “like”. I’m still trying t’get photos, taken here, on a device, sent t’work… which is problematic. Beer is very nice. I’m too soused to fully appreciate it.

427. Sun 3/6/18: North Tower bar, Lord’s Pavilion, London

Beer: Marston's Pedigree 4.5%

Middx v Surrey, One-day Cup

A big crowd at “HQ”, as we never call it. We have to queue a while to get into the ground but, once in the Pavilion, we’re lucky enough to find some reasonably decent seats… we’re right by the north tower, and can’t see about a third of the playing area towards the Grand Stand; but the pitch is towards the Tavern Stand and – you don’t care, do you?

Anyway, ‘cause it’s a big crowd, they’ve deigned to open the bars at the top of the Pavilion, so I go there. I leave my seat and ask Stephanie to pass my camera – at which point the lady West Indian steward, who has been looming over us for a while, presumably to keep an eye on possibly unruly visiting members from Surrey, informs me I’m not allowed to take photographs in the Pavilion.

“I thought it was just in the Long Room.”

“Anywhere in the Pavilion.”

Steph informs the steward that I’d taken loads of photos in the Pavilion. The bloody grass.

I’ve not been rebuked by a Pavilion steward for a couple of years now. The rules are daft and petty, and one gets the feeling the stewards know it, but they dish out their tellings off so charmingly – it’s always a pleasure.

The bar is card only/no cash. On my return the steward has departed… I take a couple of sneaky snaps in defiant disregard of MCC protocol.

432a. Fri 22/6/18: The Smithfield, Luton Airport

Beer: Fullers London Pride (bottled) 4.7%

Waiting for a plane to Edinburgh. Long weekend with old friends coming up. As is de rigeur for airport waits, pint is partaken AM. Attendant at front of house helpfully informed us that if we just wanted a drink we could either take a table or stand at the bar. Very grateful for that advice as I'd be lost otherwise. Only handpump on was some Greene King ale so plumped for bottle of LP. I'm flying with James, a long standing friend from VI form days. Some excitement at the bar as a can of beer spontaneously ejected beer onto everyone from a high shelf.

439bb. Sun 24/6/18: Sandy Bell’s, Edinburgh

Beer: Inveralmond Lia Fail 4.7%

Back on the half & half.

The bar is fairly quiet and relaxed. It's known as a folk music venue and, in fact, when we arrive some diddly diddly music (as Christine likes to call the genre) is going on in the back room of the bar.

I call in home and talk to Christine about the Saturday antics and the England match. I try to tell her about the architectural highlights of the pubs and bars we visited on Saturday but she doesn't understand (?) and I find later she's taken the rise out of me on her FB page about this. I guess I didn't explain it properly.

A family group (I assume) who had been sitting at the front of the bar take up the vacated back room space and take out a selection of penny whistles while (again I assume) the dad plucks at a bass-like instrument and the rest of the entourage clap to time. All very much an unaffected bit of fun for them but still nice to watch nonetheless.

At our table, there is an extended discussion about AI, robotics and whether things like Siri and Alexa are the thin end of the wedge that will lead to Skynet taking over. It still seems the plan to have another couple somewhere else and then head back to the flat.

We move on to the Jolly Judge - surely that will be the last blog of the day?

432b. Fri 22/6/18: Thomson’s Bar, Edinburgh

Beer: Stewart Brewing Jack Back 3.7%

The first bar we hit after arriving in Edinburgh for a boozy long weekend with some old friends. Hence, I start with a friendly session beer. It's Friday afternoon and the bar's not that busy. This bar was chosen from the CAMRA Good Beer Guide app on my phone. It's rather a low key start to proceedings (but it certainly picked up the pace as the weekend progressed). We are meeting a friend of Will's later who lives in Edinburgh for a meal at the oldest curry house in the capital. More of the divine Cath and her local guide skills later.

Most of the talk is about our respective trips down here (James and I flew from Luton, Will the train from Manchester). Also about how much we think Steve will have changed (it turns out not much). He is arriving tomorrow from Glasgow and we haven't seen him for 25 years.

As the curry house is a bit of a walk away, we have the one pint here and head off.

432. Sun 17/6/18: The Strathmore Arms, St Paul’s Walden, Hitchin

Beer: Haresfoot Hoppiness 5%

It’s me birthday, so get to do something a little unusual – and that involves firing up whichever GBG application works on my device, to find a pub we’ve not been to before.

Tow Steph’s folks along for the ride. Roy’s driving and, out in the wilds at the back of the airport, The Strathmore Arms isn’t an easy place to find. The satnav gets us there eventually.

It’s a great place: a ramshackle old local in the middle of nowhere (as far as we’re concerned).

There’s a few old boys sat at the bar. One (wearing an Escape to Victory TOFFs shirt) has a couple of springers – which are set upon by Steph’s Mum. The young dog is very friendly, the older bitch, not so much.

On the bar, on a large serving plate, under cellophane are a few remaining large samosas – selling for £1.30 a pop.

Anyway, yes, as I’ve suggested – this is a wonderfully chaotic place. One gets the feeling these kind of pubs used to be far more the norm, even in town centres, than they are now. Pubs surely benefit from being allowed (and/or left alone) to take on the idiosyncratic character of their landlords and patrons… I can’t really say, on an isolated visit; but the ambience here seems like a breath of fresh air.

We sit round the corner, in a room barely furnished with church pews. I notice a nearby (dusty old) bookcase, piled upon which are a collection of Good Beer Guides going back to 1976. I thumb through a few; the books used to be a lot thinner, the descriptions extremely brief, the artwork often appalling. In terms of Luton pubs, The Brickies wasn’t listed until 1996 and, before then, The Gardeners Call was a 1980s mainstay.

434b. Fri 22/6/18: The Painters Arms, Luton

Beer: Heineken International Foster's 4%

A pre-Bricks Friday night visit. There had been some talk about the pub's recent refurb paving the way for real ale and CAMRA crowds. Sadly, there's no ale tonight. This and the enthusiastic singing of ballards in the saloon suggest that the Irish in The Painters is still very much alive and well. And why shouldn't it be?

The disappointment of the de-clipped ale pump and missing a bland though quaffable Doom Bar or Pedigree is mitigated by my mouth zanging, having just been brushed through with one of those posh, long lasting gritty toothpastes. These recipes, which taste like liquid nitrogen and the dentist's floor are designed for people like me, who fear losing their gnashers almost as much as they fear fat dentist fingers in their mouth. On the plus side, any taste the Foster's may have had is hidden.

Steve arrives in good time and has a Guinness. We sit under a huge screen showing the Switzerland vs Serbia game and watch the Swiss winner, scored by a player who was both fat and muscular. Well suited for dentistry.

L8s arrives. We talk about Dutch buckets. The question of when to leave is neatly solved by the appearance of a musical duo and amplification.

431. Fri 15/6/18: The Bricklayers Arms, Luton

Beer: Shardlow Narrow Boat 4.3%

Come in (slightly later than I’d wanted/expected) halfway through the second half of Portugal v Spain in the World Cup. The games/teams I’ve seen thus far have been very ordinary – but these are two exceptional sides. Ronaldo is, of course, the best player in the world but – I suggest – even if he played for the Town, you couldn’t love the arrogant sod. He’s scored two already – Portugal are 3-2 down – he buys a free kick just outside the area and scores a beauty. Like he does.

Steve and me brother out – bearing birthday gifts, for me, which is nice of them. It’s my birthday on Sunday.

The talk is of Clod Magazine (next issue out soon) and The Knockouts.


I take lots of pictures using the bulb/manual setting on me camera – a mainstay before I sussed out the “no-flash” setting, which makes life easier and photographs generally better. The bulb can be ok but, at my level of expertise, results are patchy and invariably too murky. I don’t know… there may be one or two goodies (amongst masses of murky underexposed rubbish).

The excitement of the World Cup is replaced later with boring bloody golf – presumably live from some part of the USA. It’s bright and pristine and deadly bloody dull; and seems to kill the mood completely.