Imperial Arra's and Croaky

In Attendance: +John Urquhart +Iain Stuart +Jon Clark +Martin Hatfield +Golfyball  and briefly +Brian Rees
Weather: Cold, light showers later, moderate to good.

Ah, The "Imperial Inn". A special place.

This week is race week, what with it being the Cheltenham Festival and all. As such, Cheltenham is full of the Irish kissing the Blarney Stone and coming over here stealing our women and drinking our beer and loosing their money at the race course. It makes for a fantastic atmosphere in the town, with wall-to-wall fun and games and properly overpriced beer.

Naturally we wouldn't want anything to do with that malarkey, and so snuck off to the "Imperial Inn" with the expectation of a quiet night and a game of darts. As usual with the WTC, the best laid plans of mice and men...

Bitten by the racing bug, the Imperial Inn, which up until now has been the quietest city pub, with a nice little jukebox and a dart board and sensibly priced beer, had gone and got Karaoke in. Those of you that have followed the WTC will be aware that we merely "tolerate" croaky in the early part of the evening, and then in the later part of the evening (on the outside of the Courage of Holland) we actively participate in the stuff. Hopefully, this was not to be one of those occasions...

The place was unusually busy, due to the fact that the were race goers from up and down the country in the vicinity. There was some footy on the telly and the music was loud enough to be almost annoying, but not quite. We relocated to the very back of the pub where this is a well maintained dart board for a game of "Halve It", which is mentioned elsewhere I'm sure...

This game belongs to Sniffer and Jugs. They always win and the results usually have Stan in third, followed by Reeser or Claude with Golfy bringing up the rear... Not tonight though. In fact almost the complete reverse with Golfy reigning supreme much to the disgust of Jugs and frustration of Sniffer. As it turns out, Jugs was so disgusted (and so pickled, thanks to the pace that sniffer was setting on the beer drinking) that he left the group to go and talk to his "new friends" who were actually some old friends from back in the day.

The pace was too much for some and after a reasonably poor stab at Robbie Williams on the croaky, Golfy gave up the ghost and staggered home, while Claude managed to rouse the crowd with something by Frank Spencer Sinatra before the entire event collapsed in an overtired and drunken heap of a mess...

All in all, a top night out for the WTC with all the right elements. It's fair to say that the Imperial Inn is a long standing favourite - a proper pub, without instructions, and largely untouched since the day it was built - which must be a hundred years ago give or take. I can confidently report that we will return.

Next week, is Thursday.... No idea what we're doing.

A local pub for local people....

In Attendance: +Iain Stuart  +John Urquhart +Jon Clark +Golfyball and fleetingly, +Jason Brown
Weather: Cold, but not wet.

This evening was somewhat marred. Sadly I've seen the passing of my grandmother - she was 93, so she'd had a good run at it, but it's a sad day to be sure (as the say in Ireland). On top of that, Mr Brown senior is non too chipper, so the general mood was that of some sort of depression. What better way to lighten the mood than to go and get some quality largers down your neck in some top quality pubs in the city. So instead of doing that, we went to a couple of rubbish pubs on the London road for some nasty beer.
Ok, ok, so I'm doing one of them something of a dis-service, but only one.

"The York" was our first port of call. There is a similarity here to "The Nelson Inn" in that its a bit of a dive of a pub, and mostly forgotten about. It has the feel of someone's front room, with a slightly chillier atmosphere and for the first time in a city pub, I actually felt like this was a "local pub, for local people" and "that there was nothing for us here"..... To coin a phrase.

It was quiz night and there was football on, so you could be forgiven for imagining a happening and warm sort of place, but not a bit of it. There are small signs dotted around about the place, asking you not to swear, and to mind your language and so on and so forth. Now, I occasionally have been known to drop the odd f-bomb (for emphasis and openly showing my lack of a university education) as have some of my comrades of the WTC. That's not to say that we necessarily approve of bad language, but there's a time and a place, and late at night with a few beers on board and in the company of sinners, that is both the time and place. My point is, that the signage is a little "off putting" and reeks of a nanny state of mind. (See what I did there?)

Furthermore, the quiz situation. We ensconced ourselves in the large bay window, only because that was the only table that wasn't reserved. The pleasant bar staff informed us of the upcoming quiz and apologised that it was on (a little odd) to which we responded "not at all, perfectly all right, we'll join in" and we should have realised something was amiss when this was met with a stony silence. 10 minutes later, the place was heaving. Every table was full and no doubt the bad language police were out in force. First prize was to be 100 pounds, so naturally we thought "Hello, we could be onto a winner here..."

A further 10 minutes passed and we procured further beverages to oil our aged minds in anticipation of a "big win" and the pub promptly emptied. Hang about. What's occurring? Every single person in the pub bar two buffoons watching the football at the far end of the bar and us, walked out the back door. Very odd. Especially as the quiz is about to start. We continued our banter undeterred as realisation dawned. It would appear that as "non-locals" and "not from round 'ere" types we'd been blackballed! It was apparent that the entire quiz had relocated out the back and left us for dead. Now to be fair, they sent a man back in 5 minutes later, to sheepishly ask if we'd like to play the quiz, along with a look that said "I shouldn't if I were you" and "keep off the moor, stick to the path, it's a full moon and you never know what might be out there". We finished our beer and left, looking for the safety of anywhere but The Slaughtered Lamb The York. Most disappointing.

Luckily just next door is "England's Glory", another pub full of neatly printed little signs telling you what you can and can't do. "Don't sit here, it's so and so's seat" or "Any smoking anywhere on the premises results in an instant ban" or most bizarre of all on top of the fruit machine (slot machine for our American friends) "Local's Only"... I mean, really.... What the hell is going on round here?

Regardless of whether we were allowed to or not, we ensconced ourselves in the corner and bought the overpriced beer ("Cash only, no cards" according to the sign) and carried on as usual. Not sure if it was the beer, the company or just the general mood but in the end we actually quite enjoyed it - even if we were permanently instructed on what was and was not considered acceptable - "only consume food and beverages purchased on the premises" - four packets of nuts please, and so on and so forth.

Even with the sad news of the day, it's great to know that when you need a friend, the WTC a there to royally take the piss and make you feel better about the world. We even raised a glass of sherry in the name of the departed "Aud", and greatly she would have approved.. Fingers crossed for the senior Brown.

Next weeks thrilling instalment - "Imperial Inn"

Chubby Little Fingers.....

In attendance: +Martin Hatfield +Iain Stuart +Golfyball +Alex Stevens
Weather: Still freaking cold.

Music venues on a Thursday are thankfully still pretty plentiful in our neck of the woods. That's not to say that there are hundreds of them, but there are a few that are worth a visit.  One of the more regular stops for "that kind of thing" for us, is "The Ridge and Furrow"

One of our members has imposed his own self-ban on the basis that he's either a) terrified of the bouncer, or b) terrified that he doesn't remember exactly how it was he came to be impersonating a leprechaun - complete with serenading a taxi driver. However, all that aside, let's talk about the pub.

To be fair - it's a bit of a hovel. Sort of sticky carpets, early 80's décor updated in the early 90's and still looking a bit rough around the edges. It's sited next to a sodding great supermarket, slap bang in the middle of a rabbit-warren of a housing estate and is purpose built for the residents of said estate. It serves the needs of those that work hard all week and want to spend their wages blotting the fact out, or those that do sod all all week, and want to spend their benefits blotting the fact out.  Inevitably, where two such cultures meet, this can often result in a bit of a punch up - and often does.

As such - it has a bit of a reputation.  It's a party pub of a place and even though it's rowdy, it's an enjoyable rowdy.  What helps it along is it's layout. It's been cleverly crafted into a two tier pub with a restaurant (of sorts) out the back.  In the old days you'd think of the lower tier as a bear-pit or possibly somewhere for the crowd to gather round on the upper tier and watch the cock-fighting on the lower tier.  Nowadays, the lower tier is considered to be more of a dance-floor, or a stage (for the purposes of live music).  Cock-fighting still takes place though - just more in the form of drunken cocks, fighting.

On this particular Thursday, Chubby and his band mates were making the most of the lower tier and filling it with instruments of a musical nature with which to entertain the crowd.  "The Shy Teds" (for that is their chosen name) are a band of excellent quality able to play just about anything in the song book of popular music when they put their minds to it. A drummer, a couple of guitarists, a vocalist and Chubby's little fingers on the piano forte make for a beautifully crafted sound with bits of rock and pop liberally scattered about. Apart from their name, they're a band you'd be happy to take home to your mum. They can please everyone and the crowd generally goes wild.... ish.

So there we have it.... Beers were consumed as per... and the three of us were joined by Chubby both before and during his half time break for a swift couple of pints. All most enjoyable.

While it's a bit of a dive as pubs go, we wouldn't want to see it closed, and yet this is going to be the case. Typically, in a world where money is more important than enjoying what little money you may have, the local supermarket (in this case Morrisons) have shelled out some cash to by the plot the pub is built on, knock it flat and stick in a petrol station. A sad day for the losers of the area, but a good day for "The Turmot Hoer" just up the road - who will no doubt be employing bouncers and enrolling their staff in karate lessons as we speak.

Next week - also as per - wasn't drawn from the hat, so without further ado, here it is.

Ladies and Jellyspoons - we will be partaking of a beverage or three in Number 16: "The York".  Now, this is a little concerning, due to it being reminiscent of someone's front room. However, in view of trying to make a night of it - I'm suggestion a stop on the way in "England's Glory", and then possibly a detour afterwards over to "The Kingsholm Inn/The Jockey" and possibly rounding things off in that old favourite, "The Cross Keys Inn" or "Cafe Rene"...

Let's hear what you have to say in the comments.  Or by email....

Cheltenham Fire and other good tonics...

In Attendance: +John Urquhart +Iain Stuart +Golfyball +Chris Sheppard +Martin Hatfield and a very special guest appearance from our international member: +Patrick Chatterton  
Weather: Cold... No... It was colder than that...

So after last week when we completely forgot to select a pub, a hurried mid-week draw left us with "The Old Restoration" in Cheltenham.  The evening started with a bus ride for +Iain Stuart , +Martin Hatfield , +Chris Sheppard and +Golfyball into town on the hunt for something to eat, with a longer term plan to meet up with +John Urquhart and +Patrick Chatterton around 9-ish.

We settled on "The Slug and Lettuce" which is always a reliable spot, with reasonably priced food and slightly expensive beer. This is nicely tempered by the fact that they regularly appear on "VoucherCloud" with a 25% discount on food - so a worthwhile stop for that reason alone.

A couple of steak sarnies did the trick, washed down with a couple of pints of non-descript larger. There's always plenty of people in here too - so it makes for a good atmos' generally.  Suitably fed and watered, we decided to head out in the general direction of "The Old Restoration" but with a stop off in the gastropub that is "The Swan" on the way. I shouldn't go into too much detail here, because obviously "The Swan" wasn't the selected pub this week, and it's sure to come up again during the summer months - save to say that it's a lovely place and an enjoyable stop-off.  Two pints later and +John Urquhart and +Patrick Chatterton  appeared and joined us in a beverage or two before we set off for the main event.

One of the more well known faces about Cheltenham and a proper English Eccentric to boot is that of "Dancing Ken Hanks" and of a Thursday evening, when there's a bit of live music on, The Old Restoration is his watering hole of choice. So it was no surprise to see him in here, and a delight to watch him dance - well, jig about a bit. A funny old geezer who has done a lot of "good work for charidee", he adds a certain ambience complete with a few raised eyebrows. God alone knows what our Canadian member must have thought of him.

One of the things "Pat the Chat" has brought to our little group is a favoured drink of the colonial commoner, "Prairie Fire". This consists of a shot of Tequila with a dash of Tabasco to give it some kick. With this in mind and in his honour  we strived to get a round in of said beverage, only to be stymied by the complete lack of Tabasco behind the bar.  Not to be outdone, or downhearted, and thinking on our feet, in a spark of genius "Cheltenham Fire" was born. Like it's cousin from the village of Stadacona (look it up), it too consists of a Tequila base, but the magic ingredient is a nip of Louisiana Hot Sauce. To be fair, it's pretty disgusting, but it has a similar effect to the Prairie equivalent and is almost certainly, entirely unsuitable for drinking on a school night.

All very entertaining stuff. Stories were told, the world was generally put to rights and as always, a good time was had by all involved. We were all particularly pleased to hear the following day that +Chris Sheppard took an inordinatley long time to recover - which only goes to show that practice makes perfect, and if he showed up more often he'd be able to handle it.

And there we have it.  Next week there's a another musical venue - not least because it will feature the keyboard skills of +Alex Stevens

A sneaky inbetweener...

In Attendance: +Golfyball +Iain Stuart +John Urquhart +Jon Clark +Martin Hatfield +Brian Rees +Chris Sheppard +Jason Brown +Rod Wilcox +Terry Anderson +Alex Stevens
Weather: Cold, Tired and Hungry

So as we'd completely forgotten what the hell we were supposed to be doing this coming Thursday, and as many of the WTC members were present at a golf event on Saturday - and while we were sat in "The Lansdown Bar" we did manage to have a re-draw to select this weeks location....

And as if by magic, out of the hat cam "The Old Restoration"...   Always good for a laugh, and likely to feature some live music and an appearance by Dancing Ken.

The #LongLevensPubCrawl for Stan's Birthday

In Attendance: +Iain Stuart +Golfyball +Jon Clark +John Urquhart +Martin Hatfield +Brian Rees +Rod Wilcox @dbccyart (who clearly needs to get on Google plus)
Weather: Even Colder than last week.

So it's Stan's Birthday. Great to see one of us finally make it to 50... errm... hang on....  maybe not 50....anyway.

The plan - as laid down last week - was to start off in the pub that Stan had his very first beer in when he was a wee nipper.  Well, it turns out that this just happens to be very near to +Golfyball just off of Elmbridge Road in "The Cross Keys".

Clearly every pub in every town and city up and down the land "used to be" the place to be, and this one is no exception.  Like all the rest of them, this one is also in need of some love, care and attention.  It serves a few people who are no doubt regulars, and it's not terrible - but it feels more like you're intruding into someone's house, than a warm and friendly pub.

That said, we all piled up around a couple of the 1970's original round bar tables whilst sat in the bay window (To be honest, we really could have just wandered into 1974) and dished out the birthday boy's presents. As is tradition, he happily received the disgusting aftershave, and equally happily enjoyed some FP headgear to keep him spritely looking in his old age as he stumbles around the golf course.

Beers were consumed (you have to have 3 for it to count) and Sniffer's well thought out Stan related quiz was partaken of. Much fun was had and suitably, Stan won.

Next up and a short walk away is "The Double Gloucester". Another one of those housing estate pubs that used to be fantastic, and is now dishevelled, and struggling. It's a huge rambling building of a pub that seems to go forever. It has the best part of three bars (two of which were open) and a skittle alley, which to be fair was doing a roaring trade - and in point of fact, the place was busy.  A youthful bunch intent on getting bladdered on a school night it would seem - but then again - we're all getting older.....

We took the preverbial three in here, and then somehow managed to loose our latest new member (@dbccyart) and pick up Dicko (only available on Facebook) before moving off to our last stop of the evening was "The King Teddy".

This is a bit of a classic in this neck of the woods.  It's been here for ages and is well maintained and a generally very good pub. The food is completely reasonable and not at all bad, and the beer is possibly slightly overpriced but the atmos and general feeling of the place make it more than bearable.

Good Old Gunny (without his Jumper)

Of course by this stage of the proceedings, things start to go awry. Crisps and nuts were ordered for our "dinner" and more beer and wine helped the rest of the night slowly slip into a blurry end.  A couple of cabs arrived - one of which was driven by the birthday boys daughter - having recently passed her test, and I managed to rescue Jugs' jumper for him....  which (I musn't forget) is at my house and will have to be returned to him.

We also selected next weeks pub of course....   but can I recall what it was??  Can I hell....
Worse still - is that Next Thursday is Valentine's Day and so that provides all sorts of complications.
My suggestion is that those that can - should plan for something on Friday (a travesty really - but needs must)

Until then then...  adieu.

The Pint Sized Plan for Stan

In Attendance: +Iain Stuart +John Urquhart +Martin Hatfield and a guest appearance from the long lost +Chris Sheppard

Weather: Cold, Damn Cold

This week saw us planning for Stan's Birthday Bash in a place of significance to +Martin Hatfield 

The birthday is next week - and will consist of a longlevens pub crawl - but for now we have the entertainment that is "The Famous Pint Pot"...

Who is that??  Not that bloke off of "Come Dine With Me" surely?

This is a strange tardis like pub situated right outside the sports facility that is "GL1" in the almost center of Gloucester.  I'm told that in days gone by it was a-heaving and a-thriving sort of place that you'd struggle to get served in through the throng of individuals packed into the now non-existent garden in the summer months.

Now - it's a bit sad and dejected.  It still gets busy-ish - but like all city pubs it's struggling to keep going under the weight of the financial burden placed upon it vs the lack of income due to the financial burdens placed upon their patrons.  We at the WTC do our best to fix this problem but it's an on-going battle that even we may well loose in the long run.

Regardless of all this, The "pot" still holds a special place in the heart of one of members - that of Claude...  It was on this very spot just over two years ago, that the WTC visited the "Pot" on a cold December evening. Not expecting much, we got involved in the beer - and were confronted with a "Christmas Do" as well a couple of ladies who were clearly "out for a quiet night".  As I recall (through the fog of alchozhimers) +Jason Brown was with us - and he was (as he does) dancing around like fool and generally disturbing the ladies who didn't want to be disturbed.

It was somewhere around this point that our Claude played a very smooth card and interjected between +Jason Brown and the ladies (which in all fairness kept Mr Brown from any trouble) and at that moment he set eyes upon "Aunty Anne" - almost as if it were across a crowded room/bar/pub with a sticky carpet. From that moment forward they have been an "item" to use the parlance of our times, and as the kids say - they may well be "doing" each other (whatever that means).  We continue to ask if we need to buy suits, or hats for our other halves in the vein hope that there might be a wedding on the cards (after all it is a damn good day out - as both +Golfyball and +Jon Clark will attest to.... Still - nothing as yet - although I understand they do at least co-habitate now - which really is moments away from being hitched anyway.

...and so its for this reason, that even though the "pot" is a bit of a "bin" - it's a bin that we all quite like really - and as such, we can put up with it's lack of food, strange ambience (permanent hits of the 80's and 90's on the... is there a Jukebox or is someone playing a tape???), sticky carpet, and dodgy beer..

In the end - as always - a good time was had. Much beer was consumed and we staggered off into the darkness to nurse tomorrows headache.