The fish weighed heavy in my gut and I was at the end of my run, anyway, so I coasted to a mooring at the Anchor, and incredibly friendly (and busy) free house near the rail station. The oddest tap I could spot was for Crockerton Classic, which was cloudy and citric which might have been leftover pipe cleaner in the lines but it tasted like it was meant to be there, too.
I finished this beer and went to change into some dry clothing for the second running, after returning to Westbury. One guy came into the gents as I was just about naked and I said, “just changing into my Big Boy clothes.” “Don’t put on your big city airs for us, lad.” Funny. A moment later another guy comes in and says, “Cor, blimey, what’s that smell?” “Sorry, gov,” I replied, “I’m a bit ripe and I think I stepped in some sheep shit.” “Did you fall in it, too?” I’m home!