I ordered a Wainwright as the suited businessman arrived at the bar in the Fleece. A charge of £3.80 came with the glass; “that’s a bit dear, isn’t it?” the businessman said as my first sip started…floral hops and light tannic astringence made me smile and reply, “yep, not worth it but not bad.” He ordered one and some pork scratchings and was charged £6.50. ”You’re joking,” he frowned. ”Those hogs studied at Oxford, you know,” I tried to help. Fleece, indeed…Fleeced is more like it.
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