“Do you think that has too much chocolate?” one girl yelled over to my bartender who was licking some sort of pastry from her fingers before pulling my Corvus Stout. “Too much chocolate? Hang on, I need to taste some more to see what you’re on about.” But, despite the charm of this banter what I liked most was that no one commented on the state of yours truly: drenched top-to-toe from a winter run in the rain and caked with mud below the knees.
I’m a fan of Corvus but I wonder why everyone serves it ice-cold. Especially today I would have savoured something other than bone-chillingly chilled (and might well have gone for an Irish coffee had I been thinking clearly). Still, it was a joy to sit in the front window (the privilege of the first customer of the day) in the Dandy Lion (this hillside pub in one of the prettiest towns in the county) and watch the road and foot traffic go on in the downpour.
Then, the skies brightened a bit and the sun threatened an appearance. Gulping down the last half of the stout, I bid farewell and headed back out to the roads to try to take in some nice weather…which just as suddenly turned to shit when the skies blackened and the rain returned with a vengeance, driving into my face from the right. Bracing.
The Endless British Pub Crawl 