After the 10K, I left the town centre of Malmesbury walking and eating a very chip-fat-soaked piece of fish but was soon done dining and started trotting along at a reasonable pace. About ten minutes later at a fork shaped junction, I spotted the Red Bull off to the left and went to investigate. I misread a sign out front welcoming dogs and hikers as “Woofers and Wankers,” and felt like I had found my ancestral home.
There were three ale taps but the only one ready this morning was Codger but that seemed absolutely appropriate. I was the first customer but the house soon started to fill with regulars asking after Nigel the landlord’s injured leg or showing off their new puppy or just getting a cheeky beverage and some lunch.
It wasn’t planned as the 1250th, by the way. It was only when I was checking the notes and spreadshit that I noticed it.