The name has no apostrophe. But a gorgeous bar though, pretty high on my list of preferred establishments.
Category Archives: Pubs
West
Glaswegian German beer. This is my third visit to West, a great bar/brewhouse just off Glasgow Green.
We’re having Munich Red.
Saramago
Last time I was in Glasgow, There was a bar-cafe that I really wanted to try. It’s just off Sauchiehall Street, near the ABC. Saramago.
I was with old gentlemen, so didn’t get to visit; it’s a vegan place and they don’t get such things.
I’m here now though. And it’s truly great (although expensive).
The Horseshoe Bar
We’ve done some shopping. And now we’re in the Horseshoe Bar.
Plastic Letters
… was the name of a Blondie album. In my opinion, their best. Today, though, I bought some cardboard letters.
Yes, the Z is the wrong way round, but I’d taken the picture before noticing. Rest assured, it’s now correctly oriented.
After buying half of the contents of Hobbycraft, we caught a bus to town. Before returning home, we called off at the Bridge Hotel, where I found two Atom beers on draught.
Only staying for one, this was a difficult decision. Light or dark?
Or a half pint of both.
And both were very nice. We may also have had a game of skittles in the Split Chimp while in town.
Regrettably, I was defeated by my second in command. But only because she cheated.
I’m sure there was a ‘1’ prefix missing from my first score.
Sodhouse Bank
Our street has quite a bit of history. William the Conqueror once had a bit of a run in with Malcolm III of Scotland (it didn’t end well for Malcolm), pretty much just outside our house. And, for a few hundred years there was an annual procession up the street.
This procession would stop for refreshment at a pub down the road, the Old Cannon. While a nice building, the times haven’t been kind to the Cannon. I’ve only called in twice and found the pub to be pretty run down and struggling to survive. Something of a shame when you consider its past.
Inevitably, the pub closed and attempts to reopen an turn it into a realistic business failed. It’s soon to reopen as a Chinese restaurant.
At least the building is remaining largely unchanged. Unlike the nearby Queens Head, which closed more recently. It’s to be converted into bedsits.
Should a ghostly Sheriff of Gateshead still be travelling the route, at least he’d be able to find a meal and a bed for the night.
Broken rules
I met my second in command in town after work today. Brewdog do vegan pizza now, you know.
And it’s rather nice. As is the coffee stout.
I must admit that I feel somewhat ashamed to say that we’ve played the bus lottery this afternoon. And cheated.
An X1 arrived, so we pretended not to see it and waited for a 56 (which stops at our local).
The Station
Today, while escorting my second in command’s father to his train, I noticed something in Central Station.
I’ve read about these, but hadn’t seen them before today. Just a few years ago, this would have been unimaginable in Newcastle. Hell, I remember being regarded as different in my early days of vegetarianism seriously think that vegetarians/vegans will one day dominate the world. Naturally, anyone who resists will be fed to cats. And, speaking of which, I need to purchase a chair, a white long haired cat and a pair of black (faux) leather gloves.
Also in Central Station, on the same theme, was a shop.
Finally, while having a pre-second-in-command’s-dad-train Erdinger, I found that the Station Hotel is likely to reopen soon.
While only the facia has been retained, I’m looking forward to the reopening.
Is this the way to Amarillo
Or a Moretti. I’m back from a retirement do at Heworth golf club, a bloke called Neil. A nice bloke. he’s only a year older than me. Which makes me realise that, when the mortgage is paid off in six months, I could afford to do the same.
But maybe not, since I need to pull together some funds for the Sodhouse Bank Brewery (the shed).
The end is in sight though.
In my local for a nightcap.
Goatshead
No, we’re not in Goatshead yet. We’d called off in Oxford for breakfast, but a visit to Oxford involves a compulsory pint of stout in the Three Goats Heads.
It’s an excellent Sam Smith’s pub, lovely both outside and in. My second in command’s not partaking of stout though; she’s shopping (and is disappointed that the Apricot store has not only closed, but is in the process of being demolished).
Shopping is generally a good thing for me; I get to have a pint (or two if I’m quick) before my second in command arrives (for a fruit beer).
Coincidentally, Sam Smith’s fruit beer is made (partially) in Stamford, where my second in command was born. A picture of the brewery, taken a few days ago.
