A bit lost, I let Dippy lead the way from Prince of Wales but intimated that it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if we stopped for another before returning to the circle. We assumed we were very far behind the rest of the pack when we spotted some other stragglers ahead of us. Here we were faced with a dilemma: they were 200 meters away straight ahead, but the Chester Arms was 30 meters down an alley to the right.
The Brakspear at the Chester Arms was a bit colder than I would have fancied, but the music was hip, the snooker match going on to our near right was lively, and we more or less knew our way back to the down-downs. By this time, I had begun to feel the advantages of several Imperial pints and several more miles at pace. I still had the good sense not to speak with the help, which means I might be welcomed back on a subsequent visit. Oh, and the motto on the sign is from the city of Chester and means “Let the Ancients worship the Ancient of Days” which I think is just gibberish.