Category Archives: Beer

Whittlesey

There’s an annual festival in Whittlesey. A straw-bear-beer kind of festival. Basically, a bloke dresses up in a bear costume (straw is involved), then people follow him around, drinking beer.

A couple of weeks ago, Eidnan told me about a straw bear beer, although I may have not quite recollected the name correctly. I was also somewhat critical, mainly since real ale may not be halal. Or it might be.

In the City Tavern this afternoon, I noticed Strawbeer at the bar. Realising that Eidnan’s preferred beer may not be suitable for vegans/vegetarians, I asked whether the beer contained anything dead. On being told it was fish free (the little display in front of the pump was pretty cloudy anyway), I purchased a pint.

I’d love to say that it was gorgeous. It wasn’t though. But it was OK. No, it was nice. It was a great colour and was a bit cloudy. And it was nice.

I probably should have taken a picture of my beer, but I neglected to capture such things. The pump attachment was probably worthy of theft, but I abstained.

Soon after, in Lady Greys, I had a delicious Berliner Pilsner. I did take a picture of this one, even debated stealing the glass.

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I didn’t though. On leaving the pub, we observed a sign outside in the street.

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It was somewhat relevant to my lifestyle, but I decided not to steal the sign (well, I’d have gotten chalk all over myself). And then we went home.

That last part may not have been wholly truthful.
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Kind of Augustines II

Memories from last night have been emerging through the day. Apparently, I told Mr McCarthy that my second in command had walked 17 miles on crutches to see him. Obviously, that wasn’t quite true. And he understood that, even found it amusing.

Such claims were largely due to the 6.8â„… Jakehead. I’d only had two or three, then thought it wise to switch to Erdinger. Anyway, I enjoyed nice conversation with Billy. And I’m sure my second in command enjoyed her hugs with Mr McCarthy.

Some other, pretty random, pictures from yesterday.

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Well, I did say they were random. There’s a story behind most of them, but I’m way too lazy to go into that level of detail.

Anyway, It was a great night. There are a couple of full band gigs on sale soon; we quite fancy March in Manchester. And, hopefully, somewhere nearer home.

Ixat (ixat)

Today, my evening was spent in Whitley Bay. It’s a place associated with both pleasant and less so experiences. I used to take my kids there when they were little. Usually, we’d have chips at the beach. They were cooked in palm oil; ethically questionable nowadays, but better than melted down cows or pigs, as was the norm at the time. And, when a marriage that shouldn’t have been went tits up a few years ago, I found a B&B there to escape the madness.

This evening was spent in the Fat Ox, where a band played. Unfortunately, the band play mostly heavy rock. And I’m not too keen on such things. But, they were actually OK. I wouldn’t commit to more than OK though.

I left earlier than planned, since my second in command was unwell. So my virtual post-it note, with late Metro times, wasn’t of much use.

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I should inform the casual reader that my companion this evening usually arrives (when in Newcastle or Gateshead) with a post-it filled with Metro times.

Arriving in Gateshead, with an urgent need to empty my bladder, I ran walked casually to the Tilley Stone. After using the facilities, I realised I’d missed the last bus. And, so, there was no alternative other than an ixat.

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Home now.

Village life

Home from a couple of days in Kings Cliffe. Had a nice time there, caught up with Gordon (my second in command’s dad). And his cats, Tom Spanner and Jess. Sadly, I do not recall the name of the recently departed cat with the breathing problem.

Anyway, the village has one pub. Yes, just one. A horrible thought, isn’t it. We may have spent an hour or two in the Cross Keys yesterday.

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Of relevance is the £2.50 a pint offer for January. Which, for a usually expensive pub, we found to be excellent value for money. Of course, it was important to support local businesses too, so we stayed longer than planned.

Since my second in command is still broken, we were reliant on trains, so had an early lift into Peterborough this morning. Where we had breakfast. In the Draper’s Arms.

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And then there was a train to Durham. Yes, Durham. Rail maintenance meant that there was a bus from Durham to Newcastle.

It’s nice to be home. Via Tilley’s, the Forth, the Town Wall, the Bridge Hotel and the Tuns, that is.

Pies

Yesterday, my second in command had her first real excursion following her injury. We took a bus to the Central, where we seemed to be the only customers.

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After a couple of beers and something to eat, we returned home to make pies. Mushroom and beer (Innes & Gunn original).
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Now that she’s getting the hang of crutches, we’re considering venturing out again today.

Sofa

I may have pain. I mean real pain. I may have a broken leg. And fingers. And head.

After a rather pleasant evening, ending for the second night in our local, I sat, once home, on the back of the Sofa in the kitchen. Then, for some reason, leaned back.

My second in command was amused to see my legs fly over my head on my way down to the floor. Regrettably, our cast iron table wasn’t the best of cushions.

Fortunately, I have a bottle of Sam Smith’s oatmeal stout to ease my pain.

Slush

Yes, slush, not snow. Yesterday, I was forced to delay my planned Christmas shopping and, instead, spend time in a pub.

And all because modern buses are unable to cope with slush on our hill. My journey from Washington to Newcastle was not possible after a couple of hours of snow. My bus had to turn back when attempting to reach our street; other buses were already stuck on the hill and my double decker was sliding from side to side.

My bus ride ended at Gateshead Interchange, where I realised that a return from Newcastle by public transport wouldn’t happen in the near future. So, I had a couple of bottles of Tucher in ‘Spoons while waiting in vain for bus services to our hill to resume. Eventually, I gave up when a bus to Low Fell arrived, walking from there to my local.

I may attempt some shopping today.

Bombay potato

While in a rush to Kings Cross, I stopped off at a Christmas market outside the station. Upon noticing lots of dead stuff on sale, I didn’t bother walking around and cut straight through instead.

In doing so, I found a stall selling veggie food. Best of all, a lot of it was vegan. I opted for a (huge) Bombay potato wrap, which I’ve just consumed on the train. I only mention it because it was gorgeous.

Also gorgeous was the pint of stout in the Chandos en route to the station.

Football boots

Right now, I’m in my local watching football. Liverpool and Southampton. Liverpool are winning 2:1 coming up to half time. Exciting, isn’t it?

Oh, it’s now 3:1 as I type. But, no, it’s not exciting.

My mate, Ian, is telling me (by text) how good this is, as is my second in command, but I just don’t get it.

My grandmother once bought me a pair of football boots. They were on the list of things I needed when I started secondary school. I’d survived primary school without such footwear, so I couldn’t understand at the time why I would need football boots. After all, I’d successfully avoided football up to the age of eleven.

Anyway, I did appreciate my very expensive boots. I may not have worn them more than twice, but I really felt grateful for my grandmother’s gesture. The boots were the most expensive item on my school list.

But I don’t get football. I never did and still don’t. I know that my team are ‘the reds’, but I don’t really care whether they win or lose. Because I just don’t understand it.

I may have another beer, it might help me understand the game.