About a month ago, I paid a visit to my ‘long lost’ third cousin Richard in the city of Bradford. On the return train back to Leeds (where I was stationed at the time) I hopped off in Shipley in order to investigate the renowned Saltaire Brewery. It did not disappoint.
As previously recounted in Worthington’s Creamflow at the Rose & Crown, I quite appreciate having a pub close to my hostel that provides cheap beer and football. One would have thought that £1.85 pints of Worthington’s a mere 354 feet away would have been unbeatable, but that was before I moved to York, where they seem to have a pub in every building. And at this particular hostel, one need only walk 118 feet to find the cozy confines of the Nags Head, which coincidentally also happens to be a Craft Union Free House just like the Rose & Crown, and therefore offers £1.85 pints of Worthington’s. Dear me, at this rate I’m never going to try any new beer!
About a month ago I was in Birmingham, and though the birthplace of heavy metal had a certain attraction for me, it was clear that I was running out of interesting things to look at after three days of wandering around. I needed something else to do. As luck would have it, I remembered reading something about a bar crawl in Leam, and having a vague notion that I was perhaps near by, I went digging into my browser history!
Voila! A blog post “of all the pubs that you definitely haven’t visited, and probably shouldn’t.” That sounded like a challenge to me. After quickly copying down the bars from DollyFlower Cheese’s entertaining post, and figuring out that Leam was actually Royal-Leamington-Spa on the train line, I was ready.
Several years ago when I first got into cider, this was my favourite one! Compared to all the sweet stuff from Growers and Okanagan, this was so refreshingly weird, dry, and English. And then the liquor stores in BC stopped selling it. *Riley makes a sad face*
Yesterday I took the Metro train from Newcastle to North Shields for a stop of sorts on my ancestral home pub crawl. Except I wasn’t visiting a town where my ancestors lived; I was visiting real living relatives, my paternal grandfather’s cousins! I also didn’t stop in a pub, but I did drink some brandy, so I’ll give myself a pass.
This is a story from a pub. Perhaps not a very interesting one, but a story nonetheless.
One of my quests whilst I am in England is to visit the towns and villages of my ancestors and seek out any remaining distant relatives. Since I tend to call in at at least one pub in every place that I visit, I guess you could call it my ancestral home pub crawl. First stop on the tour: Beccles, Suffolk.