Continuing on from a few days with stops in Samuel Smith’s pubs, I felt compelled to visit Ye Olde Blue Bell after a work trip to Preston.
I only had time for a pint of stout before having to catch a train, but it was a most welcome break.
And, naturally, the train is delayed, so I could’ve had a second.
I’m presently enjoying a pint of Sam Smith’s stout in the Three Goats Heads, in Oxford.
A lovely building.
The beer’s nice too.
An important new discovery was made today. The Angel, a Sam Smith’s pub near Shaftesbury Avenue. Lots of old panelling and tiles.
We also, on a closed Regent Street, came across Genevieve, the car from the old Kenneth More film.
Sam Smith’s pub in Stamford.
Not many people know that I’m a graduate. Or that I have two degrees. My first was in psychology. And I have to say that this (and perhaps, more so, my old counselling qualification) was of use this evening.
After a pretty stressful day, I called off at my local for a drink. One drink.
It was pretty empty, a bloke was leaving as I arrived – I think I know him. He said hello as he left. That left me in the company of the barmaid, a man at the end of the bar (I recognised him too, but don’t know his name) and a man with a beard, sitting at a table.
I regret the fact that I’d not recognised the man with the beard as James, my former stepson. I realised as he left in what seemed like a rush. He may not have noticed me, but I hope I didn’t offend him inadvertantly. I feel bad on the off chance that I did.
I opted for a second drink and the man at the bar left soon after, leaving me alone (apart from the barmaid, that is).
Within a few minutes, a young-ish bloke arrived. He bought what looked like vodka or possibly rum and coke. He’d clearly been in a fight.
I didn’t ask his name, but talked with him at length (with the barmaid’s assistance) about avoiding making rash decisions – which he seemed to be at risk of doing.
I’d have been home much earlier, but didn’t want the responsibility associated with any bad decision he’d make.
Anyway, he left with the assurance that relationships wouldn’t be ended this evening and that, I hope, he’ll think about options available to him tomorrow. When he’d a chance to cool off; without alcohol.
I may not have made use of that first degree, and only used basic counselling skills, but I hope that our conversation has prevented, or at least delayed, any rash decisions.
The kitchen is progressing, although I’m not expecting it to be finished sometime soon.
While I was plastering my second in command was building a wood store.
From 100% recycled wood and all by herself.
When in our local for a well earned beer, I mentioned to Phil (barman, on a Thursday) that we have a new woodshed.
He very quickly made the connection with the Divine Comedy and found Something for the Weekend on Spotify.
It was with regret that I left.
The Bridge Hotel. Newcastle.
A very pleasant afternoon was spent in Durham yesterday. A visit to the Swan and Three Cygnets was compulsory, of course.
On leaving, there was something of a downpour, so it was necessary to take refuge in the Market Tavern. And the Head of Steam. And the Bridge Hotel.
And, since the rain hadn’t eased, there was a rather nice curry before the train.
I’m currently sitting in the back bar of the Central. We’ve had a pleasant afternoon/evening in Town. And an important discovery was made – beer and cake are a great combination.
I’m in Telford and it feels a bit weird. Weird because I used to spend a lot of time here. And because the town centre’s changed a lot. It’s still very much like Washington, but you can see that a lot of money’s been spent here recently. I mean, Asda has moved to the other side of the shopping centre.
Some things haven’t changed though; Wetherspoons is still the only pub. And it’s still signposted.
