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So, four years now (or, rather, next week it will be…here’s the annual reports for years Three, Two, and One for historical perspective).

We just received our new visas valid until 2016 but plan to take the next step toward citizenship in a year, Indefinite Leave to Remain…sort of the British Green Card.  There is an exam, first, but in general it is all downhill from here.

The view from Western Street near the new house…also all downhill

Additionally, we are in the process of moving house (which is why I rushed the annual report a week forward) from just north of the Oasis over to Old Town to a house situated close walks to either the Beehive or the Castle or the Globe (recently reopened!)—three locals instead of one and all three of high quality—and dozens of others a short walk. The new house has three bedrooms each larger than its counterpart in the old house, the two receptions are larger and made into more of an open-plan configuration, the bath is larger and has a tub (not just a shower), and there is a finished basement; on the down side, the kitchen is a little narrower and more primitive as is the small garden but everything we do and everywhere we normally go in Swindon (save for the butcher) is so close.

The only races I did this past year were the London Marathon (5 pubs plus a can of Carling on the last mile) and the Beerathon (5 miles with a pint and a hefty food item between each) and the mileage run for the year suffered from this lack of focus—1950 give or take about 25 (most estimates pretty good using gmap-pedometer), while the last several years (except for the year of the wreck) were in the 2200-2500 range.

On the runs, I visited  255 new pubs with a stunning 67 new ones (steep part of the graph) in September when I took two weeks off work and ran at least 10 miles per day in new territory each day. The 1000th wasn’t as big a thrill as I thought it would be, but I saw some really nice places and met some really fine folk. The September holiday found me visiting Gloucester, South Wales, Slough (exotic, I know) and Exeter along with some nearer-to-Swindon trips. The 100 Yellow Beer Challenge was responsible for a lot of second visits to pubs I might not otherwise have gone to after an initial stop and many of these seemed better the second time around. Oh, and my Workingman’s Club appears to have failed or at least hasn’t been open the last several times I’ve popped by (I have a grand one scoped out for the new neighbourhood, though).

Best pubs in Year Four (reverse order by First Visit write-up):
The Southgate Inn, Devizes
Byron’s, Swindon
The Hop Inn, Swindon
Dicey Reilly’s, Teignmouth
The Brass Monkey, Teignmouth
One Eyed Jack’s, Gloucester
Ye Olde Red Lion, Tredegar
The Rose of Denmark, Woolwich
The Volunteer Rifleman’s Arms
The Green Dragon, Marlborough
The British Lion, Devizes
The Blue Boar, Alsbourne (for the Dr. Who connections)

Favourite write-ups:
Postboxes
British Citizenship Exam Prep
Risk Assessment-Bins
Oxford Tourists
Assize Court, Bristol

Cock Flavour
Paul Simon in Hyde Park
Edie’s Lawn
The hunt
The Bremen Musicians (German children’s story)
Sex Tourism in Wiltshire
Modern Algebra for Omid
Burns’ Day Lunch

There are others search for ‘made me laugh.’  The blog may or may not have made some of the over 100,000 visitors laugh, but the damn fools keep checking in (that’s you, that is).

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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

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Lilienthal Library

There’s not much you might consider remarkable about the September running streak, really, except that I managed to remain clothed in public the entire time (ie, only a streak in that there was an unbroken string).  I ran every day of September and (until I got the flu last week) I covered a minimum of 10 miles every day.  A semi-statistical breakdown of these follows, and there are a few photos that didn’t make it into other posts last month (maybe just a shot or two from Germany, who knows).  The total, 330 miles, is the most I’ve done in a month since my mid-30’s when, tripping and stoned almost continuously, I barely felt the effort (doing it piss drunk is quite a bit more difficult even before factoring in the extra 15 years or so of decrepitude).

Total: 330.2 miles
Swindon: 86.0 miles (10 runs)
other Wiltshire: 103.7 (8½ runs–crossed from Glocs)
Oxford: 40.0 (4 runs)
Gloucestershire: 18.4 (1½ runs–crossed to Wilts)
Devon: 21.5 (1 run)
Berkshire: 15.0 (1 run)
Wales: 23.3 (2 runs)
Germany: 22.3 (2 runs)

Had a trip to Germany for work toward the end of the month and with that and the change of seasons did both of my runs there in the pre-dawn darkness; a shame, really, as both areas (Hamburg near the airport and Borgfeld/Lilienthal near Bremen) looked very nice for this kind of excursion.  In Borgfeld, I stayed in a rental room across from this restaurant/microbrewery (the beers were fantastic):

…and the breakfast suited the post-workout refuel although within hours I was crippled with nausea, fever, a mid-range migraine, and a free-flowing waste-relief valve.  This continued the next several days, but once home I felt I could try for another — if shorter — run but only managed a mile before turning around and heading back to bed.  Yikes.

Big houses, safe streets, and loads of farm roads and wildlife preserves await you in Lilienthal and Borgfeld, if you go:

September 2012 was also the busiest month for pub visits (67  included the 1000th) since I landed in England, largely due to the unsupervised nature of my vacation (Jackie left me to my own devices for two weeks and, surprisingly, there were no legal or medical catastrophes).  I stopped including ‘dead pubs’ quite a few months ago unless they are of significant importance or beauty (and, for those, I will still follow the original set of rules); had this not been the case, I could easily have boosted the count by another 20-30.

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With a half hour layover in Newport, there wasn’t time to be choosy about the venue.  The Queen’s Hotel wasn’t my preferred sort of pub for a short stop, large and yet crowded, but even had I found a true local it was just after end-of-business on a Friday and I would certainly have sacrificed my advance ticket for the experience–this was better for my purposes.

When I say it is huge, you really don’t get that impression from the photo, below.  However, the streets on either side of this frontage are at 30 degree angles to each other and the house stretches back along both of these, expanding as it does, for about 200 feet.  Inside, it is a multilevel, gaudy and oddly disconcerting mix of drunken pensioners, yuppies, derelicts, and hybrids of the three.

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The streets of Cardiff were heaving with Rugby fans (many of whom seemed well on their own way to heaving) when I arrived at 5pm.  An international match was getting ready to kick off on top of the normal Friday night insanity (which would probably continue to build in surges well past midnight).  I bought my train ticket then went of through the masses to find a pub.  The Great Western was close, huge enough that I was able to find a seat, and had cheap scrumpy on taps.  Sorted.

Rugby fans are great.  They sing a lot, they are otherwise boisterous, they drink dangerous amounts of alcohol–all very similar to footie fans.  Unlike football supporters, the revelry doesn’t seem to degenerate (too often) into random violence or, worse, sectarian or racial attacks…strange, but yet another reason I like the Welsh–they’ll play football but they are really invested in rugby.

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I like kebabs and döner based meals, and I was famished after the run earlier in the day so I had my eye out for a kebab place.  I also like puns in chip place names (Hamid’s Plaice, the Codfather, etc).  So, I hit the jackpot with this one (yeah, I know it is The Mighty Cod, but mine is better).  The döner and chips was excellent, too, and the best chilli sauce I’ve had in months.

“I swear by Almighty Cod.”

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It struck me that I was eating a kebab and was not yet drunk.  This travesty would not stand (nor walk in a straight line or, god forbid, recite the alphabet backwards).  I crossed the bridge and popped into the Maltster’s Arms.

I get the feeling the house was a maltings in the past…proximity to the river, the tall roof and multiple levels.  Today, it is run by an Asian family and most of the folks that came in around the time I did seemed to be out for a nice family curry.  Several were bulking up on their way to Cardiff for the rugby match (Wales in an international qualifier of some sort), but I seemed the only beer-only customer.  Even so, the folks came by and chatted amiably and welcomed me back whenever I pass through again.

They had John Smith’s Extra Smooth on tap but it is carbonated and too cold for what it is supposed to be.  I opted, once more, for a Carling (#132 out of 100 for the Challenge).

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The former Greyhound Hotel has been turned into a Wetherspoons called the Tumble Inn. The beer I wanted had just run dry so I just got a Carling (yet another in the Challenge) and went out to the porch to sit in the fresh air and some quiet.

I was writing up some of the previous day’s pub visits when a bunch of loudmouthed, twenty-year-old dickheads came out and piled around my table. Of course. It WAS fairly amusing as the leader, such as he was, had a bit of powder left under one of his sniffy nostrils and the others couldn’t stop giggling. Ii debated trying to get a photograph but I had the computer out and might have had to use it to protect myself. ‘Too old to fight four, coked up youths’ is a failure I came to terms with years ago.

Some older local hoodlum types came out and leader boy started berating his friends and went over to hang out with his heroes. I still have no idea why they chose my table.

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I didn’t think much of the Winchester from the outside but none of the other taverns really grabbed me either so, it being around 50 feet from my bus to Pontypridd, the Winchester won by default.

Inside was even less impressive on first blush, as it looked more like a corporate seminar room for a third-rate branch of a dying business, bare and character free. That is, until you have a good look around (and listen to) the patrons.

Patron is the operative word too, most of these guys (all guys except the bartender) being old and decrepit or just decrepit (except, again the bartender). A sign taped to the dart board warns you against sitting there after 7pm (with thanks “from the dart team”). I think I had conversations with several people as there were, at least, the rhythms of conversation although I’m not at all sure whether the blokes were speaking English, Welsh, or Klingon.

Hobby Horse was a good choice for beer (four taps dedicated to this and three other Rhymney Brewery beers). It is a golden ale but she pumped it through a sparkler so it took as long to pour as a Guinness (but worth the wait).

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A Wetherspoons pub is always a cheap source of food and most start serving beer early as well. I checked out of the Red Lion and did a little early morning tourism in Tredegar before deciding I needed to get on the trail; the only box left to tick was some breakfast at the Olympia. “Are you serving beer, yet?”

“Two more minutes.”
“Great, I’ll have a Stormstay.”

She pulled the beer and sat it aside while she took the rest of my order and we talked about the building while the clock ticked on. The house used to be the town cinema before those tragic multiplexes moved in, and a grand one it must have been, too.

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The run every day plan is going okay but combining it with an average of 7 pubs a day is starting to wreck me. Friday’s run was 10.6 miles from Tredegar, across the mountain to Rhymney (which is down in a valley, as well) and then back over a mountain which had streams of sheep shit everywhere (soaking my feet in the slurry was a special joy) and slowly down to Merthyr Tydfil.

Starting point in Tredegar

To summarise the first week of all this effort, the longest run was 15 miles, the shortest was 10 miles and the total for 7 days was 80.3 miles. Between the 4th and the 7th, I have had pints in 28 pubs as well.

On the hill leaving Tredegar near where I spotted the pub of my dreams:

 

…unfortunately, it appears to be undergoing a change in management.

I’m far behind on the pub posts so I’m going to briefly caption some of the pretty pictures from this run and move on.

Housing is cheap in Rhymney

 

Lost to the north of Merthyr, found this nice pond (which helped me find my place on the map)

 

Eventually found way into town!

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It was later than I thought, so I grabbed a bit of battered cod and went to the nearest pub I could find. This was the Castle, near the big Tredegar Clock Tower in a Roundabout (it may have an official name). The beer selection was a shallow as other places but I at least had an option of something new–to me–a Holsten Vier, a passable pilsner.

The Castle seemed busy but everyone seemed to know one another and more to the point seemed to have come there specifically to meet up with on or more people in a sort of closed loop. I watched some kids shoot a few games of snooker and tried not to fall off my chair, successfully as I remember it, then went back to the room and watched some news until I fell into a fairly deep coma. Ten pubs in a day takes it out of me more than it used to.

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I don’t know what it is about chinese chippies, but the ones I have tried have fantastic fish and get completely perplexed when you order the fish and no chips (more than once, I have had chips thrust on me despite just ordering the fish…weird). Tonight’s twist was, as the Fryery was closing, I ordered the lone piece of cod and the guy tried to give me chips I didn’t want then insisted I take the two smaller fish fillets (RESULT!).

Late in the evening, I had horrendous indigestion and a bit of nausea, but I did visit 10 pubs between 11 am and 10 pm….

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After the Coach and Horses, I was only about a half mile from the Red Lion so made another short loop around town then plopped down on a seat at the bar on my return. The bartender was different from the girl who checked me into the room so it was like a fresh start to the bar. I got a Carling (#130 in the Challenge) and watched some Paralympics track and field.

Along the way, I caught some of the conversation going on at the bar. One girl was explaining about her medications and how they help with the voices; apparently they aren’t all bad but sometimes it is voices she doesn’t recognise and ,”that can be terrifying, like.”

I decided to walk around after that, and have a look at the bar itself. It is very strange construction, and appears to be huge timber blocks with some sort of mortar between them.

I felt grungy and was certain I smelled awful. Drinking up, I moved on to my room and had a very hot bath to prepare for the evening in town.

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I realised I was farther away from the Red Lion than I meant to be as the daylight waned and decided to pop into this neighbourhood pub to refresh myself and rest up for the final dash to my room for a shower. The Coach and Horses was absolutely packed and almost everyone had their own custom pool cue and seemed to be waiting their turns on the one table so I decided to try to blend into the background by being an American, drenched in sweat, stinking from drink, and waving a camera and a map around.

Carling #129 in the 100 Yellow Beer Challenge, as well.

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The old guy out in front of the Castle said something in Welsh as I caught my breath from the dash slightly uphill after several miles downhill. I said I only speak English and he said something else, perhaps in English and laughed. I opened the door and said, “and, now, I drink.” That seemed to be the correct answer and he slapped me on the back.

The beer choices are still sad on this trip and I opted for yet another Carling (#128 in the Challenge).

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I haven’t spent a lot of time in Pennsylvania but I have drunk in may PA bars, and so have an opinion about what makes a good one; on the other hand, I have never been to Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania but can probably safely assume that the place is full of wealth, privilege, and the kind of shitty bars the youth of wealth and privilege enjoy (google “Seven Sisters,” to see what I’m getting at).

Looking down the side street as I headed uphill for my return from Bryn Mawr in Wales I spotted one of the sort of fantastic working men’s bars of the sort I would expect in Not-Bryn-Mawr, PA. Unadorned, dark, with a seedy scent that belies poor hygiene of customers (the management seems lovely) and with cheap beer and clipped, business-like talk (I daren’t call it ‘conversation’ for fear of offending the deities). Three thumbs up (starting to see multiples, now).

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I checked into the Red Lion, stretched, and headed out for my run but about a mile into it I spotted the Railway Tavern and couldn’t resist the lure. I walked in and found the place reeking of bleach (the landlady was mopping, explaining why everyone was drinking outside).

I got a Carling (ales were missing today so that became #127 in the Challenge), and joined the crowd without, rather enjoying the muted breeze through the wooded garden and the late summer sun.

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Blackwood gets four of the #56 bus per hour but three of them terminate there so I went in search of food while waiting for the hourly through service to Tredegar. I eventually found the Sirhowy, but really didn’t fancy any Wetherspoons food (but there was fuck-all else open).

However, Thursday is Curry-And-A-Pint day and the menu included something called the Flaming Ddragon so I gave it a go. It was chicken, bell peppers, and a combination of sauce spices that made the batch taste sort of like a Mexican chili.

The overall effect was satisfactory. Chili goes well with cold lager, the lager on offer included Carling, and I got to tick off another in my 100 Carling Challenge (#126) and another in my inexorable march to 1000 pubs.

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My first PLANNED pub was the Black Prince which I only knew was in Ynysddu and had its own bus stop but I had no other detail about it. That’s probably all I needed to know as the couple of drinkers and the landlady were friendly and brilliant. She asked, “so, you’re not from around here, then?” “Oh, aye,” I answered, “born and raised.” The fellows perked up and looked at me. She followed up with, “really?” “No, don’t be silly, woman,” I answered and took a sip of my lager.