Leicester is afforded special status in the Reluctant Scooping scheme of topering. It's where I drank my first doppelbock. My first Dogfish Head. It always offered a heady mix of ye olde traditional pubs and somewhat-leftfield bars. But it's been a couple of years since I was last in town. Does Leicester still love its beer? There was only one way to find out...
The Pub
Casks on offer: 12-ish
Potential scoops: 6-ish
Keg beer on offer: 12-ish?
Potential scoops: 2
Scoops drank: 0
Favourites drank: 1 (Brewdog 77, two pints)
Yes. It really is called The Pub. Before the owners moved across New Walk, their former bar (Out Of The Vaults / Vin IV) often served two beauties by Beowulf - Finn's Hall Porter and Dragon Smoke Stout. They're the beers I'd have plumped for if my eye had been on cask. But I didn't even look at the handpulls. Instead, I fancied something cool and just-so-carbonated as a thirst slaker on this sunny Sunday. Brewdog 77 lager hit the spot. So much so that when alcofrolicchap turned up, I had another pint of it.
The Pub is one of those long, narrow bars that looks and feels cool in an almost-trying-too-hard kind of way. I was content to go sit out in the sun, drink lager and watch the world amble by. I'll revisit their cask offering one day.
The Globe
Casks on offer: 4. Possibly.
Potential scoops: 1
Actual scoops: 0
Favorites drank: 1 (Everards Sunchaser, one pint)
I've always enjoyed visiting this multi-room, often-bustling pub in the heart of the city. Then again, I've always enjoyed picking lint out of my navel and flicking it at people on the bus. I don't come here for the banter by the 'characters' at the bar (read: shouting Sex Pistols lyrics with the emphasis firmly on the last syllable of "Pretty Vacant". I don't come here for a mediocre guest beer (lots of pumpclips of interesting ones on the wall, never seen them on when I've visited). I come here for a damn fine pint of Everards.
Sunchaser was the right side of cool - maybe it was the 'extra cold' version? It certainly felt more-than-just-cellar cold. Great condition, in its branded glass. Good beer, well presented. Whereas alcofrolicchap's Burton Bridge Spring Ale seemed to have sprung itself flat somewhat.
Criterion
Casks on offer: difficult to tell
Potential scoops: ?!?
Keg on offer: six-ish
Actual scoops: 0
Favorites drank: 2: (Punk IPA, one pint; Augustiner Edelstoff, 500ml bottle)
The problem with the Criterion? It's like bumping into an ex-girlfriend; you both drifted apart, you both met someone new, now she's no longer the bubbly bundle of fun you once loved but slightly jaded and world-weary. You want to put your arm round her and chat about the old times but you both know it won't cheer either of you up.
This used to be my favourite pub in the city; interesting casks well kept, odd keg offerings at a time when there wasn't so much variety knocking around as there is today, a chunky bottle menu that became the syllabus for my Belgian beer education (intermediate level). Now the place seems to be quieter, the casks more predictable, the bottles scarcer. Alcofrolic and I enjoyed the last pints of the kegged Punk and some bottled Edelstoff outside by the giddy vista of the ring road. And I felt wistfully bitter...
The Font
Casks on offer: four
Potential scoops: none
Keg on offer: some-ish
Actual scoops: 1 (Stella Black)
Favorites drank: 1 (Stella Artois)
There's only two reasons we visited this bright and breezy student-centric bar. Hand-cut chips. And Stella Black.
The chips were chunky, hot and really potatoey. The Stella Black was a car-crash in a chalice. Worse thing I've had in my mouth since I chewed a verruca. I had to have a pint of, er, 'normal' Stella to get the syrupy gloop taste out of my mouth.
(Now is not the time nor place to discuss why Black is so execrable or why I'm still drinking Stella Artois. That time will be after I've had six pints of the latter one afternoon and feel like mouthing off ).
Swan and Rushes
Casks on offer: about eight
Potential scoops: some
Keg on offer: probably
Actual scoops: 1 (Dupont Monk's Stout)
Favorites drank: 2 (Orval, Cantillon Vigneronne)
One fine day, I will make the Swan and Rushes my first port of call when in Leicester. I will have a game of bar billiards, chew the fat with the bar staff and sip an Orval at a leisurely pace. Today, however, it was the usual last-pub-mad-dash.
An Orval slipped down quicker than a Manchester United striker in the penalty area. I think I asked alcofrolicchap how quick he could drink gueuze. A bottle of Cantillon Vigneronne was procured and drained in short order. That's all the beer I was here for. And well tasty they were, too. Though I did then find the time for a Monk's Stout by Dupont; it seemed a fairly plain-Jane brew, though to be fair my tastebuds had just been wrapped round the back of my ears by the Cantillon.
So here's another pub that seen some better days. It's been on and off the market for years and would really benefit from a period of stability. Having said that, it's got a well-worn-slipper feel about it, comfy and inviting. And the staff are great - knowledgeable, interested, amiable. The barmaid that night, Erica, was keen to try the Vigneronne and happy to chat about geuze. You just don't get that in many other places.
Results
Scoops: 2
Favourites: 7
Verdict: Really Very Reluctant Scooping.
Beer of the day: Orval. Obviously.
There's still plenty of good beer to be found in Leicester. It's just a rather subdued scene. Someone needs to give the place a swift kick up the victuals.
Perhaps a Leicester Tap, anyone...?
>
I was almost ready for another Derbyshire ramble. Except that the weather wasn't great, I was knackered and my boots were still caked in sheep shit from the last yomp. Although I'm off to Leicester soon for my first major CAMRA fest of the year, I fancied the change of scenery so I thought I'd go and roll around a few pubs there.
All of my good city-beery days start with a Spoons breakfast. At 0915 I'm the first food customer in the Babington Arms, Derby, but the baked beans are still lukewarm; seems that Spoons specialise in barley baked beans. Hey ho. With nosh, tea and toast dispatched, I needed a beer to get the blackberry jam pips out of my teeth. I was tempted by the regular 99p pint - no, not Greene King IPA, that seems to have been 'coming soon' for quite some time. Here in the Bab it's quality; Wyre Piddle's Marco King of the Watusi is a reasonably robust bitter that was a favourite of the old soaks here even before the price drop.
Instead I ended up with a Reluctant Scoop. I was up in Lincoln late last year but saw no sign of brews from the city's first microbrewery, Cathedral. Here at the Bab they had Red Imp on offer, so I thought I'd chance a half. A deep brown body with a tight cream collar, it started sweet with an initially indifferent finish. As it started to warm, there was a hint of an odd fruit lurking; strawberry, perhaps? Plenty of inherent creamy bitterness made for a half-decent first beer of the day.
Turning 10am, the Bab was starting to get busier, mainly with old men hacking pleghm whilst ordering cooking lager and being bullish about the Rams' win over the 'red dogs'... so it was time for this Tricky Tree to leave. Derby railway station is in the middle of a rebuild, perished fifties concrete canopies being ripped out and replaced. In today's half-light the utilitarian greyness of the platforms makes the place seem emptier still, as if expecting the passengers and trains to provide all the colour.
At least I get to ride a HST to Leicester. A train that lives; the throb of the engine at rest, springs squeal as it wallows over the points. No fear, dear reader, I'm not turning into a 'rail enthusiast'. It's just that there's something about the roar of a HST compared to the nothingness of Meridians....
Into Leicester on time and a slow walk taken into the centre. Ten minutes along the mainly pedestrianised roads shows off a rich variety of architecture - Baroque blocks now split into offices and shops, the Venician Gothic of the old Leicestershire Banking Company, Victorian Gothic of the clock tower and Queen Anne influences into Silver Street.
Which brought me to The Globe. Quiet in here early doors apart from a couple of regulars. I love the feel of this L-shaped street-corner pub, nooks with odd benches and upholstered chairs, lino and flagstoned flooring, a wide bar for vertical drinkers and a couple of stools for barflys. I secured a broad table next to the bar where the beer choice offered no reluctancy for me; this is an Everards house so a foaming pint of Tiger was called for. I drink it rarely as the only Everards pub I frequent on a regular basis is Derby's Brunswick where they happen to have a beer of five of their own on offer...
This Tiger looked bright indeed in its branded glass complete with the beer's Cyclops profile. Sparking orange with a tight, uniform white head there was a sweet nutty aroma (perhaps just a little Thorntons toffee-ish?) with a first gulp countering with a dry malt and hop itch. In fact, the hoppiness surprises me. Having left the beer alone for five minutes whilst taking some photos, the hops almost leaping out of the glass on my return, an assertive rather than aggressive aroma. I liked the sweet creamy feel too, a great session bitter with balance rather than blandness.
The picture on the wall opposite was intriguing, framed labels of Everards bottled beers (Pale Ale, Nut Brown, Meadowsweet Stout, Amberlite Ale) as well as soft drinks. One of the labels was for 'Kiddiette', no idea what this is/was. If anyone does, please let me know.
Onwards to the Criterion where, for 1245pm, it seemed unearthly quiet. This two-roomed pub, current Leicester CAMRA pub of the year, has always been bustling when I've been there before. To be honest, on recent visits I haven't found the cask offerings that inspiring. I don't know if this is to do with Rugby Brewing taking over, although the award-winning staff remained the same. My temptation was to try a continental bottle from their reasonable range though they didn't seem to have any bottle menus out today. Their newly-imported Belarus beers were advertised on the blackboard (Krinitsa, Syabor, Bobrey) but instead I stuck to a pint of tried and trusted Oakham Oblivion. Certainly a beer in fine form, clean tasting with generous citric hops. I finished off my crossword, licked the last hop juice from my lips and kept moving.
The Swan and Rushes is only five minutes or so down the road - it's great to have a city beer crawl where the pubs are close together. A little busier in here, a bunch of old buggers around the bar, though the beer selection seemed to be suffering from the post-Tigers blues. It looked like the Leicester rugby faithful had hit the ale hard on the day before, leaving just four or five beers on today. Thankfully, one was a welcome scoop for me - let's face it, any new Oakham beer is a welcome scoop for me. The Heckler was worth breaking my rules for, a pint just seemed right. It was standard Oakham fayre but when standard is golden body, perfumed hops and soapy/itchy mouthfeel , then so what?
A few faces from earlier in the day came in, with the bar looking more like a middle-aged men's Sunday luncheon escape committee meeting. Beers were sunk slowly and rumours swapped as Dylan warbled in the background, something from his vaguely in-tune and not-too-sentimental era.
On then to Out Of The Vaults. I mean Vin IV. Which henceforth I'm going to call Out Of The Van. Busiest pub of the day, even though they were hardly hanging from the rafters. There were some quality scooping options here with goodies from the likes of Kelham Island, Belvoir and Elland but I was Reluctant to go without my usual pinta here, Beowulf Dragon Smoke Stout.
With the late afternoon sun slashing off the city council office windows opposite, it was a pleasure to revel in a dark beer as the sun began to fail. Twos and threes of studenty types and tickers came and went; I was happy to sit back, chill out and enjoy the beer. Dragon Smoke has that full on coffee/chocolate vibe in abundance and I gave in totally to its lure - another pint of Brownhill's finest was ordered on the basis that the railway station was only a ten minute stroll up New Walk and the trains were fairly regular. I stuck around long enough to listen to the two blokes next to me deconstruct an intimate relationship in an honest and blameless way. And so I had another pint whilst I was earwigging.
Eventually I had to pack in and drag myself back to Derby. The train was chocked full of students and day trippers returning from Laaaaaandan but I was more than happy to stand by the coach door with an open window and enjoy the fresh dieselly breeze. When you're almost leaning out of the window (don't try that one at home, kids), your lips take on a life of their own as they're buffeted at 100mph.
A final pint of White Feather at the Brunswick rounded out another beery day. It was certainly a change of scenery, though it's worrying to see such great pubs so quiet. I imagine things will be a little busier when I return to the city next week for the CAMRA festival - look forward to live reports and obscene photos!
>
With a sunny Saturday all to myself, thoughts turned to beer hunting in places old and new. I was going to buy myself a Derbyshire Wayfarer train and bus ticket to get some Peak District pubs as well as a visit to Sheffield's finest but then had a bolder idea - rather than just two counties, could I manage a beer tour of half a dozen of them in a day?
I reckoned that with an early start, punctual trains and a speedy approach to Reluctant Scooping I could knock off six counties around the East Midlands; catching the express bus from Derby to Nottingham and then using an East Midlands Day Ranger to pick up an anti-clockwise chain of trains to take in Lincolnshire, Cambridgeshire, Rutland and Leicestershire before heading home to Derby.
So, eight-thirty saw me arrive under a white sky into Nottingham for a full English at the best cafe in the country, Bunters on Old Parliament Street. With stomach suitably lined, it was time to find a pub that opened at 9am and the Roebuck duly obliged.
It's one of the more pleasant Wetherspoon's I've visited; a tangle of rooms where a sizable building has been knocked through and up. In attempt to make this a LocAle day as well, I bought a half of Nottingham Legend and headed upstairs to catch some sun outside in the smoking garden. It's a rather sweet and creamy beer for this time of the morning, taking time for an old-school malt wash to develop.
Leaving the city of my birth behind at ten-ish, it was a half-hour trip across the splendid Vale of Belvoir to a town I've been through but never stopped off at - Grantham in Lincolnshire.
Following a path that carved through the terraced houses to the town centre and then finding back streets crammed with interesting architecture I made my way to the Blue Pig. This is a 16th century building that was turned into a pub in the 1800's and ticks all the boxes; slate floors, wooden settles, pewter mugs and china plates hang around the impressive mirror-backed bar. A multiplicity of rooms on different levels make the Blue Pig a subtle hybrid of back street boozer and tourist's wet dream.
Oldershaw of Grantham provide a house beer for the Blue Pig but, sadly, not today. I reluctantly settled for Marquis Bitter from Brewsters and wasn't disappointed; an earthy bitter that doesn't stick in your clack like Legend can.
Couldn't spend enough time here (a feeling repeated through today). Though I'd gladly pass on the Landlord and wouldn't wash my arse with Greede Kerching IPA, there were a couple of other good looking beers on offer here (Lord Marples from Thornbridge and a Milestone beer).
So, a swift yomp back up to the station for the twelve o'clock express to Peterborough. That was running late, so I took the gamble on catching the next slow train. At least that wasn't packed to the gills with giddy tourists; there were plenty of seats and someone had left a stack of newspapers behind to keep me entertained. And that express only overtook us about five minutes away from the city.
If it's 1230, it must be Cambridgeshire. First stop was to be the Oakham's Brewery Tap, under threat of closure due to redevelopment in the Westgate area of the city. And from the opposite side of the dual carriageway, it looked very closed indeed. With time here short, I decided to cut my losses and hotfoot it straight down to the river and visit Charters Bar.
This is a place I've heard great things said about it, but my previous trips to Peterborough have been only to the beer festival and never the pubs. Boy, was I glad I came here! A converted continental barge, the Leendert-R had that 'North European' feel to it with one long wooden bar, subdued lighting and a motley collections of plush stools and wonky tables. There was a great selection of Oakham beers amongst the twelve on offer (of which I thoroughly unreluctantly tried White Dwarf and Inferno), Thai food available from the restaurant on the top deck ; no bands playing this lunchtime but the easy-going background music (R&B, Levellers, Sinatra) was playing to plenty of punters enjoying a cracking pint or three whilst reading the papers.
Outside was a real bonus - a tent hosting the bar's beer festival! The vicious wind tested the guy ropes and slammed gravel against the awnings. Inside were some unusual beers for this neck of the woods, including a superb Okells Eastern Spice that put a warm ticklish heat into the back of your throat and gums. Deep spices rose to itch in the way the phlegm after a cough scratches its way round your mouth.
This was the place I could have stopped for the rest of the day. With the time now past two in the afternoon, I'd not left myself long enough to try the door of the Brewery Tap - which, it turns out, was still open- as I'd got to catch my next train for the short hop to Oakham.
My target here in Rutland was the Grainstore brewery tap next door to the railway station. I know it's next door, but I fought against innate geography and set off down the high street instead. I fancied some fish 'n chips but needed the loo first - and failing to find one, ended up trogging back to the station to find the pub instead. It's an impressive building from the outside and smart inside with exposed brickwork, breweriania, fairy lights and some of the best 'clean wood' tables and chairs I've seen in a pub (if only I could have smuggled a chair back home with me...). The CAMRA award certificates going back to 1998 either suggest pride in their heritage or a tendency to trade in on past glories, though.
As for the beer, the Ten Fifty was excellent (chewy malts, vanilla edge, fruity nose) but two criticims, one flippant and one serious. I'm drinking a brewer's beer in their brewery tap. Why not serve it in a glass with the beer/brewery logo on? And the all-too-serious criticism; £2.90 is way too much for a 5% beer brewed in the room next door.
At these prices, I might as well be drinking in the city, so I skipped back over to the station and moved down the line to Leicester.
Four-ish by the time I arrived, and almost impossible for me to not partake in a mini-crawl. First stop, a short stagger from the station, was Out Of The Vaults, excellent as always. A superb choice of a dozen beers here and a no-brainer for me as a Reluctant Scooper - Beowulf Finns Hall Porter is a regular beer here and I'm always more than happy to enjoy a pint whilst sitting in the window, letting the Leicester sun shine on a righteous scooper...
More pubs to do, though; driven onwards by the awful metal covers music playing here, it was only a few minutes round the corner to the Swan and Rushes. Really quiet in here - me and three others including the staff. A continental bottle from their enviable range is always tempting, but if I started down that route it would inevitably end in Cantillon and stomachache.
So, a mild it was to be, Scattor Rock Rock Steady Mild to be precise. And it was... stunning. Surprisingly fruity with a lactic chocolate smack.
The Criterion was much busier with the live music on in the lounge. I don't know if the Crit were in the midst of one of their regional mini-fests as there was a fair range of West Country beers hre (including Teign Valley, Sharps and Coastal). For some reason, I ignored them all and went for a brewer local-ish to me, Spire, and their Twist 'n Stout. Which was damn fine, superbly smooth with just enough dry coffee notes.
Having avoided any local beer whilst in Leicester, it was time to find an Everards pub. I'd usually end up in the Globe but I fancied a change. OK, I couldn't actually find it; despite being a frequent Leicester imbiber, my beer-fuelled prat-nav was starting to run flat.
Fortunately, I'd just past the Rutland & Derby, another Everards establishment so I thought I'd give it a whirl. It's one of those strange beasts, a smart bar with real ale. It actually felt like the kind of small bar attached to a restaurant, high chrome stools and low leather chairs. Not a place to relax with a pint and the paper- well, certainly not at 7pm on a Saturday night. A glass of Sunchaser was polished off - served in a smart chalice glass with the Sunchaser logo on. And the beer was surprisingly refreshing - perhaps because my palate was starting to feel slightly jaded by now.
Plenty of time before the next train, so I took a gentle amble back to the station with five counties down and just the homeward bound leg left. And then... as I got into the station I noticed a Derby-bound departure that didn't exist on my timetable so I ran - well, wobbled quickly - to give myself a half-hour advantage. As the train pulled into Derby, a wicked thought came to my head that I might be able to fit in a bonus county...
Just about to pull out the station was a Birmingham-bound train, first stop Burton-on-Trent! My all-day ticket was valid into Staffordshire so I grabbed the chance. Ten minutes later, I was in the spiritual home of English brewing and ready to have a drink in my sixth county that day.
But I was starting to tire now.... perhaps it was because I'd made it here and knew that I had time for a long, last pint at Derby in about an hour's time. But an hour's a long time when you're knackered, even longer when it's a busy Saturday night in Burton. So, time for a 'splash and dash'. Arrived into Burton, 20008. Next train to Derby, 2020. Walked to Devonshire Arms, arrived 2012. Bought half a Burton Bridge Golden Delicious at 2014. Drank it by 2015. Back onto the station platform at 2019 just as the train pulled in. Having budgeted on spending an hour in each county, I'd been in Staffordshire for twelve minutes!
Back on the train, I reflected on that very swift half - certainly some sweet crunch and slight bitterness. I'd have liked to have stayed in Burton longer but I needed three things; chips, White Feather and sleep in precisely that order. The chips did what chips should - warm you through and stuff you up. And, the seventh county delivered my twelfth beer in my tenth pub of the day - and it's the finest beer county providing easily the best beer in the best brewpub I've ever been to. Brunswick White Feather is a beer that I have come to adore - soft malts, grassy notes, flowery hops.... it's the pint that slakes my thirst after a long day at work, rewards my return to the city after a day walking in the Peaks, consoles me after hacking round town doing the shopping, oils the catch-up conversation with friends seldom seen nowadays. .. no matter where I've been and what I've been up to, there's always the time and passion for a pint of Feather.
Dragging my weary bones back to the bus, I reflected on a long, long beery day. It had been fantastic to put the miles in - about 150 - and be rewarded with decent beers, great pubs and plenty of places that I'm eager to return to and explore more. I'll certainly be going back to Grantham and Peterborough again, a mosey around the other pubs in the former and a whizz around the cathedral in the latter is definitely on the cards.
I can heartily recommend this kind of ramble - check out the deals in your area here and then make sure that engineering works aren't going to scupper a vital leg of the trip.
>
A mizzly day in November is always a good for a wander around a city and knock off a few beers. There's something about clinging dampness and biting winds that encourage reluctant scooping for me - usually because it brings on a dash between pubs for a hasty half and a beaten retreat away from the wet-dog odour of desperate ticker.
So, as all good beery days begin - to the shops. Red Zebra, Derby's biggest and best bottled beer suppliers, have extended into the new Westfield shopping centre, allowing the owner David Simmonds to expand the beer range at their Guildhall market stand. David was very enthusiastic about his ever-growing range, particularly with more local microbrewers now eager to have their beers stocked. Continental beer lovers are well looked after too, with some interesting German staples and seasonals finding their way onto the shelves.
I didn't need much arm-twisting to pick up a couple of bottles; a 750ml bottle of Wissey Valley's Auld Thingy and a bottle of Thurn und Taxis Roggen, both beers that I haven't sampled before.
By now, the mizzle was turning to drizzle, so I hastened to the Babington Arms. Their dark ales festival was due to launch on the Monday, so I thought I'd plump for something at the opposite end of the scale - Leeds Pale Ale. Only my second from this newish brewery; I had their Midnight Bell the weekend before at the Flowerpot and was greatly impressed. This certainly was a lightale, just managing to retain enough bite and dryness.
With the weather cheering up to a slate gray , it was time to let the train take the strain, But, as it would it rude to walk past and not call in, time was made for a swift half in the Brunswick.
And the sight of something I've never seen before - no Brunswick beer! Cooling problems earlier in the week had forced Graham to ditch the lot, lest any batch had been contaminated. So, it was like a beer festival at the Brunnie, with all pumps put to guest beer usage. My Reluctant Scooping skills were severely tested, but all this damp in my bones demanded something rich and fruity - Burton Bridge Damson Porter. Always ready to ignore a scoop when I can have a lush glass of this stuff.
On then to the station to meet up with a drinking pal of mine from the Brunswick, 'Cycling' John Horton. We hadn't seen each other for a few weeks - my new job has put the stoppers on lunchtime imbibing - so we caught up on gen and gossip. Into Leicester, a brisk stride down New Walk and onto the first port of call here - the Swan And Rushes.
And who should be by the bar but that renowned beer blogger, the Wooton Wonder himself - Mark 'no-body calls me maeib' Edwards. Glad to see him; after all, the plan was to meet him here!
It was festival time here, with some interesting British casks, albeit not overly rare (though there was a beer from relative newcomers Bridgenorth). Most were a little bland around the edges - even the Potbelly beer (Jingle Bellies). who usually turn out a tasty brew. Mind you, temperature was a killer, beers from the cellar were very cold, the stuff from the stillage outside was almost frozen. Sadly, that's where the Belgian guest draught beers were, which knocked all the subtly out of them, though the Gordon's Xmas beer wasn't too bad. Beer of the fest for me was the Thornbridge Hark which offered a redeeming gingerness. The food was a little on the light side as well - last year's hearty cooked meals had given way to a rather miserly bratwurst but (at least it was tasty and hot).
We decided to venture forth and find warmer beer. The Criterion is a must-visit pub on any Leicester visit; by 2pm it looked like half of Leicester had the same idea. 
With musicians warming up in the lounge, the bar area was busy. Nevertheless, a table corner was commandeered and we then sallied forth to the bar. So how come I eneded up with the blandest beer, Bartrams Green Man.? I've had some cracking Bartrams bottled beers, but this was thin and untainted by any tasty malts.
Mark was soon hankering after a bottle, and I only had to gently twist his arm into trying a bottle of Flying Dog Dogtoberfest. I found it was decidedly average - usual FD approach, subtle as a box of frogs. Whereas with other styles they can just use bludgeoning amounts of hop and carry it off, here it just made for an over-brown beer.
There was only one way to put a atop to this bland beer madness - go for some keg larger. Just round the way from the Criterion is the Shakespere's Head, a wedge of confused Art Deco abandoned in the cleavage of the ring road. 
Walking inside was almost like entering a middle-range hotel, all plush and self-consciously smart. Thankfully, the bar was full of sweary labourers who had scattered various supplements from the Sun all around the room. John was here to sample Oakwell Old Tom as at unfeasibly cheap price, even for the Midlands. Mark and I are made of more adventurous stuff, mind; only their finest lagers would suffice. Sadly, their finest lagers seem to have run out and instead they'd hooked up some cunning Heath Robinsonesque device to siphon the urinal flow straight into the lager lines. At least the Oakwell Lager had a faint whiff of a lager malt. Or was that just the drains? Mark's Oakwell Acorn Lager had a chemical sweetness to it; ever wondered what the blue cubes in the urinal bowl taste like?
(If you really want to know how I know what the blue cubes taste like, that's a another story. Like drinking the aftershave given to me by a Richard Branson look-alike in Amsterdam. So many stories, so little.. er.. enthusiasm to keep telling them)
Now, it's still raining, it's approaching time to go home, so it's shit or bust. One of the great things about Leicester is that, if you're on the way back to the train station, there's a cracking pub. Out Of The Vaults, therefore, was our last stop.
Remember - all good things come to those who wait (and ignore Guinness). A stonking selection of stuff here with plenty of dark beers. At the end of the bar sat one of my absolute favourites - Beowulf's Dragon Smoke Stout. Pure class. The rugby (Wales v South Africa) was just starting, Good beers, good sport, good atmosphere, good friends - pubs don't get better than this.
Mark had to go to catch his bus into the heart of darkness - sorry - heart of Northamptonshire. John and I just had time for a round of E&S 1872 Porter before making a breakneck march back to the station, just in time for the Derby-bound train.
We soon trundled into Derby, and with no Brunnie beer on offer it was into the Alex for a quick snifter. John was keen to try a beer he'd enjoyed the day before (the name of which escapes me) and I (as ever) could not resist the Thornbridge Jaipur. After all, when a beer drinker is tired of Jaipur he is tired of life....
Overall, a typical Midlands beery day in an above average Midlands city- some average beers, some dire, some surprising, some outstanding.
>
