Share this, mofos:

The previous post was better, but I wanted to showcase the screensavers pieced together by Squeezin’ (with my gratitude for these).  The pics, in order, are

Venue	Where	beer #
The Princess Hotel (done around 5 am New Year’s Day)	Swindon	1
The Bank House	Cheltenham	2
At the New Year’s Races in Cheltenham (watching my nag drag in)	Cheltenham	3
Midlands Hotel	Cheltenham	4
The Queen’s Tap	Swindon	5
The Four Candles	Oxford	6
The Turf Tavern (at the sign commemorating Clinton failing to inhale there)	Oxford	7
The White Horse	Oxford	8
O’Neill’s	Oxford	9
Ellington’s	Swindon	10
The Red Lion	Oxford	11
The Gloucester Arms	Oxford	12
Eurobar	Oxford	13
The Volunteer	Faringdon	14
The Red Lion	Faringdon	15
The Bell	Faringdon	16
The Lamb and Flag	Oxford	17
The Bird and Baby	Oxford	18
Far  The Madding Crowd	Oxford	19
Southbrook Inn	Swindon	20
The White Hart	Wolvercote, Oxfordshire	21
The Red Lion	Wolvercote, Oxfordshire	22
The Plough	Oxford	23
The Gardener’s Arms	Oxford	24
The Rose and Crown	Oxford	25
TP’s	Swindon	26
The De’s Cut	Oxford	27
The King and Queen	Longcot, Oxfordshire	28
The Woodman Inn	Fernham, Oxfordshire	29
The Eagle	Little Cocks Swell, Oxfordshire	30
The Wheatsheaf	Faringdon, Oxfordshire	31
Faringdon Folly	Faringdon, Oxfordshire	32
Salisbury Cathedral	Salisbury	33
The King’s Arms	Salisbury	34
The Old Castle Pub	Salisbury	35
The keep at Old Sarum	Salisbury	36
Wheatsheaf	Lower Woodford, Wiltshire	37
Bridge Inn	Upper Woodford, Wiltshire	38
Black Horse	Great Durnford, Wiltshire	39
Wilsford Cum Lake sign (heh, heh)	Wiltshire	40
Stonehenge (really a great disappointment)	Wiltshire	41
King’s Arms	Amesbury, Wiltshire	42
George Hotel	Amesbury, Wiltshire	43
New Inn	Amesbury, Wiltshire	44
The Greyhound	Amesbury, Wiltshire	45
Royal Oak	Oxford	46
The Red Lion	Marston, Oxfordshire	47
The Angel and Greyhound	Oxford	48
The University Club	Oxford	49
The GW Hotel	Swindon	50
Jude the Obscure	Oxford	51
The Victoria	Oxford	52
The Rickety Press	Oxford	53
Wahoo Sport Bar	Oxford	54
The Oxford Retreat	Oxford	55
The Grapes	Oxford	56
The Rolleston	Swindon	57
The Baker’s Arms	Swindon	58
The Dolphin	Swindon	59
Marsh Farm Hotel	Royal Wootton Bassett	60
The Cross Keys	Royal Wootton Bassett	61
The Old School	Oxford	62
The King’s Arms	Oxford	63
The Swan and Castle	Oxford	64
The Victoria Arms	Marston, Oxfordshire	65
The Black Swan	Abingdon, Oxfordshire	66
The Blue Boar	Abingdon, Oxfordshire	67
The Bowyer Arms	Radley, Oxfordshire	68
Zen Bar	Swindon	69
Sir Daniel Arms	Swindon	70
White Hart	Lyneham, Wiltshire	71
Sodom	Wiltshire	72
The Angel	Royal Wootton Bassett, Wiltshire	73
Cape of Good Hope	Oxford	74
Rudi’s	Swindon	75
Burn’s Day Lunch (Haggis, Neeps, Tatties, Whisky, and 2 beers)	Oxford	76
Swindon Wildcats 3, Sheffield Steeldogs 4 (SO)	Swindon	77
The Longwall	Oxford	78
The Royal George	Purton, Wiltshire	79
Riff’s Bar	Greatfield, Wiltshire	80
Magic Roundabout	Swindon	81
The Three Tuns	Wroughton	82
The Havana	Swindon	83
The Lydiard	Swindon	84
The Savoy	Swindon	85
The Brewer’s Arms	Cirencester	86
The White Horse	Woolstone	87
The College Farm	Watchfield	88
The Horse and Jockey	Ashton Keynes, Gloucestershire	89
The Vale Hotel	Cricklade	90
Goldfinger Tavern	Highworth, Wiltshire	91
The Red Lion	Northmoor, Oxfordshire	92
The Bell Inn	Standlake, Oxfordshire	93
The Maybush	Newbridge, Oxfordshire	94
The Beehive (this is about 100 yards from the house we are moving to)	Swindon	95
Baker Street	Swindon	96
Steam Railway Company Pub	Swindon	97
The Pig on the Hill	Swindon	98
Long’s Bar	Swindon	99
near Parliament, with a Cuban cigar and a bunch of dirty looks (and after 5 pub stops)	London Marathon	100
The Bear	Oxford	101
The Old Tom	Oxford	102
The Crown	Oxford	103
The Beehive	Carterton, Oxfordshire	104
The Crown Inn	Faringdon, Oxfordshire	105
Romany Inn	Bampton, Oxfordshire	106
Talbot Hotel	Bampton, Oxfordshire	107
The George Inn	Sandy Lane, Wiltshire	108
The White Hart	Calne, Wiltshire	109
The now defunct King George	Calne, Wiltshire	110
Barrington Arms	Shrivenham, Oxfordshire	111
Groves Company Inn	Swindon	112
Revolution	Swindon	113
The Plough	Sutton Courtenay, Oxfordshire	114
The George and Dragon	Sutton Courtenay, Oxfordshire	115
The Fish	Sutton Courtenay, Oxfordshire	116
Great Western Railway Staff Association	Didcot, Oxfordshire	117
The Prince of Wales	Didcot, Oxfordshire	118
Tap and Barrel (good read goes along with this pic)	Swindon	119
Old Town Festival	Swindon Town Gardens	120
Cock Inn	Combe, Oxfordshire	121
Three Horseshoes	Long Hanborough, Oxfordshire	122
Swindon Pride 2012	Swindon (duh)	123
Wernham Hogg’s	Slough, Berkshire	124
The Myrtle Grove	Risca, Gwent, Wales	125
The Sirhowy	Blackwood, Gwent, Wales	126
Railway Tavern	Sirhowy, Blaenau Gwent, Wales	127
The Castle	Bryn Serth, Blaenau Gwent, Wales	128
The Coach and Horses	Ashvale, Blaenau Gwent, Wales	129
Ye Olde Red Lion Hotel	Tredegar, Blaenau Gwent, Wales	130
The Tumble Inn	Pontypridd, Wales	131
The Maltster’s Arms	Pontypridd, Wales	132
Wyvern Theatre	Swindon	133
Byron’s Bar	Swindon	134
The Bear Hotel	Wantage, Oxfordshire	135
Source ot the River Thames	Kemble, Gloucestershire	136
Carpenter’s Arms	Lacock, Wiltshire	137
Mill House	Chippenham, Wiltshire	138
Sunny’s Pool Bar	Swindon	139
The Royal Oak	Marlborough, Wiltshire	140
The Lamb Inn	Marlborough, Wiltshire	141
The Crown	Marlborough, Wiltshire	142
IMS/TOF Mass Spectrometer	Oxford University	143
New Year’s Eve on Ferndale Road	Swindon	144

Share this, mofos:

Something was familiar about the Emperer but I couldn’t put my finger on it until I was ready to leave and stopped by the toilets to evacuate…it USED to be the Globe Ale House.  I had many steaks in here at lunchtime when I worked around the corner, but the new paint, the pleasant music (and it is a live music venue now) and the lack of the odours of stale beer and bodily emissions through me off the, erm, scent.  The kids running the place seemed to have done a good job and seem to know what they are doing.  And my Tribute ale was the perfect end to a day do performance maintenance tasks on some friends’ mass spectrometers.

Share this, mofos:

So it has come to this…1000 posts in less than 3 years (975 days, to be precise).

In that time we have come quite far together:  712 pub stops, 4025 miles running (1740 unique miles in the UK, at that), almost 96000 views of this blog  (averaging about 200/day the last few months after slow beginnings) and tons of ridiculous shit that I should bring me disgrace.  In that same time, I have only managed my way onto one proper publication (with acknowledgements in a few others, although another paper from the Cambridge work is almost finished) and one patent, and for that meager output I truly am ashamed; but, my big bag of guilt still has a bit of spandex left and, besides, I left plenty of tired, old impropriety across the Atlantic to make room for new experiences so let’s keep piling it in.

One of my favourite pub experiences was early on at the Chequers in Cottenham which I hope has reopened since we left the area. I have some favourite pubs in various places but no one favourite nationwide yet.  The map, linked here and over to the left of the page gives you the names of pubs reviewed or otherwise used as a template for my blather in this document and makes a nearly comprehensive reference for planning a pub crawl in Oxford, Swindon, Cambridge, Ely, Faringdon, Kidlington and Bicester; many other areas are covered less extensively but it should continue to grow over the coming years.

Pub count by date...summer surge came late this year

Here are some of my favourite posts out of that ridiculous collection, if you are at all interested or just bored:

Picking on the deceased, especially one’s betters, is always worthy: Arthur Stanley Eddington plaque.    Other times, the sciences offer jobs that are hard to resist (but the job has been filled and removed from the HR site since then).  Never sure if it was an attractant or repellent, and still don’t understand what the dog had to do with it (unless it was a Cocker).

Many articles about running as tourism have been posted, but some are better than others.  Place names tend to be the best for humour…like these here.  Or this one. We actually drove about 10 miles out of our way one weekend trip for this hamlet, but the signs have been stolen so often they stopped putting them up.  Claims to never having paid for it aside, this was a nice if mistaken sight.  Deep in Cambridgeshire you find some good place names, and they seem to treat strangers well on Hills Road Cambridge.  Our first trip to Wales resulted in disappointment with this highway’s promise.

The daily Haiku was a feature early on, before I realised just how many pubs were going to be reviewed.  The best ones happened spontaneously like this one on a trip to London.

As I write this I am suffering stigmata…okay, I accidentally stabbed myself in the palm with a screwdriver this morning.  Still, religion figures into the blog from time-to-time as it did about the ex-masturbators and the fisting-for-Jesus folks.  In Italy, it is hard to escape the influence of the Church and so we gave into its temptations.

An eternal Dylan fan and no stranger to public nudity and substance abuse, I felt kinship with these guys.  Other times the news is just ironic on its own.  Romance is alive and well in Ireland, as this guy proves.

With luck running will continue and I’ll cover many more miles of virgin territory and review loads of worthy races (although my feelings have not changed for the ‘Finisher’s Medal’).  Barely 1/10 of 1% into the stock of pubs to visit, I should be able to maintain this pace of coverage for awhile, as well.  Best, to all, and here’s to 1000 more of this nonsense.

Share this, mofos:

I claimed at some point in the blog’s history that I would not enter a chain pub…like All-Bar-One or The Snug.  Okay, fine.  It was the end of a long and stressful moving week for the lab and I made such a scene at the Panton (fuck the Panton) last time that we had to go somewhere else and lo and behold there was the Snug equidistant from the doors.

The food was okay (delivered efficiently, as ordered, and frankly my lamb burger with tzatziki sauce was delicious).  The Czech lager was cold and eventually found its way to the table.  And, the company is always pleasant.  I still wouldn’t go out of my way to get here for a drink, but the food is better than the average pub grub.

Share this, mofos:

The Ozzy is now open days.  The Christmas shoppers and seasonal office drinkers were too tempting and the bar has decided to tap this market.  I stopped in with a half mile remaining to return to work from a cold and dreary run and was cheered to find the place open before 6 and even more cheered to find that it is as divey as it has always appeared.  Only lagers and fizzy cider on tap that day but I spotted at least one ale pump and besides the Flying Pig is less than 5 meters away if you really want the ale.

On this visit, there was a pole and a fenny shooting snooker and the hungover bartender (from Essex or London, maybe) keeping the place tidy.  A suit walked in with a Nigerian accent and downed a Stella in a little less than two minutes and still seemed to slip in some chat about the 2010 World Cup brackets.

I took a bit longer with my Fosters to let my body temperature cool a bit so my glasses would stop fogging up while reading the many humourous ‘Proud to be British’ flyers (“because it’s the only country where you can get a pizza delivered faster than an ambulance will arrive” was one of the reasons; I pointed this out and mentioned that while cabdriving in Atlanta I occasionally got calls to pick someone up going to the Emergency Room (that’s A&E, for you brits) at Grady Hospital because they lived in shitty neighbourhoods that ambulances normally would take their time to go to (and that about half the time these folks had severe lacerations or gunshot wounds).  “Ah, yeah, but that’s America, innit?”

Another good reason to be British, I guess.

Share this, mofos:

The clock on the mass spec desktop was running 15 minutes slow and I missed the 7:10 bus as a result, resulting in an hour and ten minute wait for the next one.  I fell back on killing the time with a copy of the Gaurdian and a beer at the St. Radegund.  Walking in over the ‘On-In’ embedded in the threshhold in brass (never noticed that before), I noted that all faces looked familiar but no names sprung to mind…which was good, I really fancied not talking this evening.

I got a pint of Village, which was dry and floral and very, very good.  It is made by the Archers Brewery, and I get the Archers theme music stuck in my head for days if I pass on any of the Archers’ beverages so I did what must be done.

Many pubs have a swear jar, but I rather enjoyed seeing the disillusioned looks on the faces of the other patrons when one guy’s cell phone rang.  He reacted quickly and shut it off just as the long sigh from a guy that often bartends here was released and he dismounted his barstool to present the offender with the coolection vessel for the Lifeboats charity.  A pound and a dirty look and all the conversations were back ‘on.’

Share this, mofos:

Ten half pints celebrated (of courxe) with a few rounds

I have said before that, as regards hashing, I’m not a big fan of dead (pre-laid) trails, but I have to admit that last night’s Cantabrigensis HHH trail is an exception to that rule.

Twenty hashers met at the St. Radegund on King Street, Cambridge and were transported by taxi to the start at the Blue Ball in Grantchester where we were treated to a half pint of a dark ale. But, no sooner than each glass hit the table the member of the pack hit the trail, some in great haste.

I didn’t note any trail markings but I have to admit it was fairly dark out. Fortunately, the pack didn’t spread out too much and I followed a few of them into the Red Lion (also in Grantchester) for what turned out to be another rapid beer stop before heading out to the Grantchester Meadows and following the public footpath north to Newnham where we dashed through the Hat & Feathers to find yet another half pint awaiting us. God bless the hares and may He keep them safe and warm!

This trail continued in this way through a total of 10 beer checks including one each at the Red Bull (Newnham), Granta (Cambridge), the Mill (Cambridge),the Pickerel (Cambridge), the Old Spring (Cambridge), the Fort St George (Cambridge), then back to the Saint Radegund. I believe this map shows True Trail for the evening:

map linked to Gmap for detail

With the pub approximate spacing as follows:

Blue Ball, start
Red Lion, 0.30 miles
Hat & Feathers, 1.80 miles
Red Bull, 2.00 miles
Granta, 2.34 miles
Mill, 2.58 miles
Pickerel, 3.27 miles
Old Spring, 4.07 miles
Fort St George, 4.30 miles
Rad, 4.669 miles

All joking aside, the event was remarkably well planned and executed especially seeing as it was organised and perpetrated by hashers. A pub crawl in the middle of last week got the pubs to donate the racers’ beverages so that most of our £15 entry fee (about the price of 5 pints anyway) could go to the recipient charities: Parkinsons Disease Society and Afrikids.

'It is not clear that intelligence has any long-term survival value.'--Stephen Hawking

Volunteer umpires were stationed at each pub, one to make sure the liquid found its target and the other to keep the glasses of both umpires damp with their own beverages. They also made sure the 20 half pints for the contestants were lined up in advance of our arrivals.

Crowds of other spectators (more hashers…of course) showed up and followed us around or cheered our foolhardy behaviour as we passed through. Unlike the 30 Pack Marathon, most of the onlookers seemed to have homes (other than cardboard) and showers to use. Also, I believe everyone staved off the impulse to purge until after the finish (although there was a shower of beer delivered to the car park of the church across from the Rad soon after certain finishers time was taken). I am informed there was gambling involved, as well.

I’ll post the results if someone sorts that part out. I think I was in at 38 minutes so the run was not too slow…8:09/mile including ten beer stops; but, there were a lot of folks ahead of me [this is a very fast hash overall].

The ‘winner,’ or at least the first across the line found a special way to capture everyone’s attention by going AWOL for a few hours.  This caused enough concern that searches of several flavours were initiated and attracted enough attention to prompt this local posting:

Share this, mofos:

Fuck ‘em.

Ordered a burger with blue cheese and bacon but no mayo at 12:35.  Stooge behind the bar writes down burger, blue and bacon no mayo.  1:50 pm rolls around and she brings out a plate and asks who had a burger blue cheese bacon no mayo?  I get it and proceed to scrape off healthy dollops of smooth mayo and can find no blue cheese.  When I ask her what this mayo like substance is, she replies that they mix their blue cheese in mayo and then took offence at me pointing out that 1) they didn’t mix any in this batch and 2) when I asked for no mayo it would not have been very difficult to point out that the blue cheese was, in fact, mayo.

Fuck ‘em.  That’s the last ever of the many times I have visited them and would be pleased to see you send your business to the Cross Keys.

found on web...actually, we just got incompetent and snarky service

This is an update of the original post, below.

Colleague accepted tenure-track position at University of Michigan and we went for beers.  I had a couple of Jekyll’s Gold by Hyde Breweries, which were tasty.  The place was still cavernous but there were about 40 people there (more than 20 were in our party) and everything seemed copascetic.  Nothing real special to report.

Original post, 25 Feb 2009:

A long day at work with some minor successes but no major breakthroughs and the lure of the running paths beckoned.  It was about 3pm and I was expecting a call from my San Francisco based bank when they opened at 8.30am (or 4.30pm my time) so did a fairly long run along a brook near the Cambridge Botanical Gardens and on south.  I was turning onto Panton Road on my return when the phone rang at 4.15–great! Early, and behold, there was a pub handy to get out of the mist and the cold.

The Panton Arms is another large pub with a very large beer garden (in this weather, mostly just a smokers lounge).  I got a beer while finishing business and by sheer luck chose the bench-seat near the door that just happened to have the radiator behind it…ummmmmm, warm!

It was early and not much going on, just a couple folks working, another customer chatting about allergies to the staff, and some guys out in the smoking area.  Looks like they probably have pretty good food when the kitchen is open and it is only a block from the reception area at work.  Definitely going to return.

Share this, mofos:

I have visited the Alma close to a dozen times during its posted opening hours and this was the first time I wasn’t greeted by a locked door or a sign stating that they will reopen some number of hours later.  I shouldn’t have bothered.

The door was open to the spacious and empty front room as I approached.  I heard the gigantic televison blaring down the street and was able to follow the plot (long before reaching the door) of some obese American (is that redundant?) woman testifying to a crowd about how her weight loss medication caused her to have the shits and eventually a heart attack; “the extra 150 pounds weight she was carrying had NOTHING to do with it,” I commented to the bartender who didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.

“I’m not really watching that, mate,” he stated matter-of-factly as he reluctantly broke his blank stare from the tele just 10 feet away.

“Maybe it would help if you turned up the volume,” I shouted as I paid for my pint of Olde Trip, which I drank in three gulps and left him to finish not watching the Ricki Lake Show rerun.  I can’t imagine why they don’t do a better business.

Share this, mofos:

Or London, or Glasgow…or could be staying put. A world of opportunity in such a small island.

an Oxford and Cambridge Club logo

You know, it’s funny how things never turn out the way you had ‘em planned.
The only thing we knew for sure about Henry Porter is that his name wasn’t Henry Porter.
And, you know there was something about you, baby, that I liked that was always too good for this world
Just like you always said there was something about me you liked that I left behind in the French Quarter.
—–from Brownsville Girl, Bob Dylan

Sometimes songs pop into your head and won’t go away, and Brownsville Girl has re-emerged from my subconcious as it tends to do from time-to-time.  It isn’t alone; it brought Return of the Grievous Angel along with it, but I can think of a worse pair of voices to walk around with in your head than Gram Parsons (my homeboy, as it were…he was from Waycross, GA) and the Bobhead.

I guess this type of mental affliction is usually prompted by some sort of trauma.  The most immediate qualifying event in my wee world was the sudden announcement of the impending move of my research group’s professor from Cambridge to Oxford.  I have kind of settled into the fens these past 6 months, and still have about 6 month’s worth of research and instrument development ahead of me before I can feel good about jumping ship on the larger research amalgam that I’m currently a part of but I have a firm offer of a permanent post–on hard money or University funds as opposed to soft money which refers to grant-based cash–as soon as I can wrap things up here.  And, the new contract should carry me across the time threshhold (4 years in the UK) that allows me to apply for permanent residency.  Cool.

“How far are y’all going?” Ruby asked us with a sigh.
“We’re going ALL the way till the wheels fall off and burn,
“Till the sun peels the paint and the seat covers fade and the water moccasin dies.”
Ruby just smiled and said, “ah, you know some babies never learn.”
—–from Brownsville Girl, Bob Dylan

I’m pretty sure I’ll be the last mass spectrometry person to leave the microdroplets group and, except for whoever takes over the service facility, the last in the department since my boss is taking most of her research group with her to Oxford in October with the rest following at the end of the year.  I guess I have a bit of trail and village running to do out at this end of the country and a large number of pubs to visit before I take down the flag and return the grounds to the natives.

You always said people don’t do what they believe in, they just do what’s most convenient, then they repent.
—–from Brownsville Girl, Bob Dylan

Now if I can just get this bleeding song out of my head.

Update 21 Feb 2012: Just over two years since I started work at Oxford and this post gets hit fairly regularly…inexplicable except that the Bob-head is a powerful voice, or vice.  Thumbing through my chemistry dissertation I found a line from Brownsville Girl referenced there, too.  I have developed no imagination these last 10 years, but thanks for stopping by anyway.

Share this, mofos:

The weather has been absolutely gorgeous except for the times when it has been completely shit.  Above, there was a nice day in the village, so I shot the house (above) on my way to catch the bus to work.

Then, I noticed that the neighbourhood kids must have been bored the night before, having stacked what appear to be some concrete structures on the northbound bus shelter:

I shaved at the halfway point of my marathon training regimen, a few weeks ago.  I was planning to let it go wild until the marathon in a couple of months then clear the brush after the race but I had to get a new i.d. card to have access to the lab at Oxford and figured it would be better if it matched my passport photo. I have noticed that I get better service at uppity places but not quite so good at dive bars since shaving…here it is after a morning run the day it went down the drain:

Jackie injured her knee and has been reduced to walking for outdoor exercise. Even then we managed to really over do the effort on a hike around Wicken Fen.  On another run this month I spotted my first native ferret, but the only unusual wildlife we saw on our hike was this herd of wild horses:

Saffron Walden, Felixstowe, Wisbech, and Bury St Edmunds have emerged as some of my favourite towns in East Anglia over the course of this month’s travels.  Saffron Walden has a few of these houses around with patterned surfaces; while these are pretty attractive, it seems that you see a lot more of these deeper into Essex (a trip back through Thaxted is planned in the not too distant future where nearly every old house has some of this sort of masonry):

Share this, mofos:

Fleur used to be the Fleur de Lis, a Cambridge gay bar (of which there seem to be very few…and, as a side note to alternate genre’s, I spotted the first lap dancing club I’ve seen here on my way home yesterday).  Fleur is geared toward the dining experience but the dark restaurant half of the building was empty, a victim of the flooding rains and lightning that drove me back off the street soaked from my hips down and on both sleeves.  The landlady met me at the bright bar (there’s a big window on the street) and said, “ooo, dreadful weather.”  “Yeah,” I answered, “Ithink it might rain.”

I had a pint of Guinness, as the Irish weather seemed to call for it, and the friendly propritress undercharge me for it (which is always welcome).  It was chilled but that’s the way a lot of people seem to like it these days.  Looking around, they seem to have a very good selection of wine at not-too-bad mark-ups, plus they had both Oban and Lagavullin up front and centered on the whisky shelf…this is definitely on my list for a nice meal out before a show, sometime.

Share this, mofos:

Torrential rain storm blew up and I dove into the Bakers for respite.  They had Reverend James and IPA on pumps, but I fancied a lager to wash away the remains of a street vendor version of a lamb samosa and ordered a pint of Staropramen.

The music was odd and I was the only customer (walk ins were not likely during this storm), so I was serenaded by Joe Jackson, then Andy Williams (doing a weird, showtune version of Something by the Beatles).

The bar is there to serve the diners, it is obvious.  First, the prices are steep and second, the place is laid out for diners exclusively.  They even seemed surprised that I came up to the bar to order and that I didn’t want any food.  Tsk.

Share this, mofos:

Not to be confused with the Castle on St Andrews Street, the Castle Inn is known far and wide and is a proper pub (although it is said to have an especially apt kitchen staff, as well).  There are some nice nooks downstairs, another couple rooms upstairs, and a multilevel patio out back.  Plus, 9 ale pumps and the normal bar offerings (and though most of the ales are Adnams, there’s nothing wrong with Adnams).

I had a Nethergate Brewery Umbel Ale which is brewed with toasted coriander seeds and smells like a cross between a big bag of skunk and the bong used to dispose of said bag.  Okay, so I was already sold, but the taste wasn’t at all that of bong water although it did remind me of a delicate infusion of Sneeuw Witje buds.  My eyesight has improved dramatically since downing that pint.

Nothing had really made me giggle today, so it was nice of the Castle folks to provide this little gem:

Share this, mofos:

Your host at the Geldart is Elvis Joncevski, a dour immigrant about 30 years old with fantastic taste in jazz.  He reminds me a lot, in appearance, of the Meet Rack (Tucson, Arizona) bartender George [Joe].  He also has a culinary background (like George), which showed itself at Friday lunchtime.  But, that is where the similarities end.

The Geldart is pretty classy and situated back in a somewhat out-of-the-way neighbourhood.  There’s two bars to choose from, although on the rare afternoons that it is open you’ll be fairly lonely if you turn to the right on your way through the door.  Go left and it will be packed with folks and it will seem like nothing less than hanging out in Elvis’ kitchen during a party (which is pretty close to the reality of the experience).

I had a Gold Digger, which was a precoscious little blond with a better personality than you might expect from first, foamy impressions.  One of the specials was linguine with marinara and I opted for that but Elvis returned with a plate that had all of that plus a bunch of sauteed clams and mussels…yum.  One guy yells back for a round of apple pie for his table but E says there’s only one order left and brings them something else that made them sigh with pleasure.

Leaving for Newmarket, I turned back for a few photos and noticed the etched glass in the window for the first time.  Nice touch, and it makes me wish I were more observant.

Share this, mofos:

I was happy to see “Free House” on the sign because it raised the expectation of perhaps a beer I haven’t tried before; however, the concept of a Free House is subject to the definition of the landlord and apparently this publican chooses, freely, to only stock Greene King ales. A Dallaglio’s Heroes was purchased and I sat back to see what else this place had on offer.

The Cross Keys is near work (you can see some of the Chemistry building in the background of the photo of the pub) but is only open in the evenings and just hasn’t been in my crosshairs before.  But, I was just leaving work at 7pm and figured I had a bit of time before the next bus, so whatthehell.

It is a very comfy bar, but there were only two people there besides me and the bartender who seemed a bit put out to have to leave his newspaper to get my beer or their crisps.  The music was nice, and the room had an attractive if fairly typical pub decoration scheme.  Still, it is not a big surprise that it was empty in there.

Share this, mofos:

There are three levels in the Anchor plus spillage out onto the docks at a weir where punts are rented.  It is also at the very atmospheric and wide Silver Street Bridge and, so, is crowded with tourists.  Very disappointing.

There was a 30 minute wait for any food and the ale range was entirely Greene King and kept entirely too cool.  The Mill, just down Laundress Lane (a back alley next to the Anchor) is a much better choice.

Share this, mofos:

A Greene King pub that seems to have its head screwed on right, the Bath House has interesting guest beers (I had a Tom Wood’s Bomber County), good windows on a mostly pedestrian street, a big service area and cheap prices. The street it is on is very narrow (so the photo above is as good as I could manage on my fourth pub in an afternoon) and most people would continue on to the touristy Eagle but I would highly recommend this pub for a proper session.

I was just there to knock out the obligatory pint, this time, but will definitely target it for meals and ales when in Cambridge for evening entertainments from now on.  Watch this space for updates when I have a more protracted visit.

Share this, mofos:

I entered the almost empty County Arms and was greeted by a Cambridge professor at the bar and a young woman behind it.  I ordered a Burton Bright Sovereign Gold which was lemony and light and somewhat more alcoholic tasting than the abv would have suggested, but it was nice and I said so.  “Oh, your the first one.  Everyone HATES this and we can’t seem to sell it down to the empty cask,” the barmaid said.

She turns out to be the tenant, along with her fiance whose folks own the pub and let them have the apartment over the gaff in exchange for two shifts a week.  This turns out to be quite the deal as the apartment sounds huge (and the building, built in the 1930′s) is really cool and fantastically well located.

Share this, mofos:

Passing itself off as a gastro-pub, the Punter has had several previous incarnations in the last 5 years, most recently the Sino Tap chinese restaurant/pub.  Mostly lagers on tap and barely covered barmaid breasts on display, I opted for a Hoegaarden and a quiet spot by one of the streetside windows.

Very nice restaurant layout, it really only seems pub-like when you step out to the side garden but the art on the walls is interesting.  I had things to do though and so it was drink up and make tracks, for me.