Out and About with Pete

Slummed it on the number 42 bus, this week and headed for the farmers market in Corn Street, Bristol. The pieman was present at his stall for a change and a quick transaction later I had secured my pie for lunch today. Caught a number 1 bus up Park Street to The Berkley. I was excited to see that the posters outside and table stand up thingies inside The Berkley were advertising a host of Christmas and Festive ales. I met Pete inside at the bar where we waited and waited and waited in a very short queue for the lone barman to serve us. Eventually all was well but where were the Christmas and Festive ales so avidly advertised. Not a one in sight. Just about four real ales and the usual Ruddells and Abbot and a couple of ciders. Get your act together Weatherspoons for goodness sake.Your prices are rising your service is slipping and most pubs now offer three or four real ales. The incentive for anyone entering a Wetherspoons is, at least for me, beginning to fade. Poor service at the bar, rising beer prices and tables not being cleared and cleaned as quickly as this customer would like. All this points to a Wetherspoons clone being able to enter the market and clean up. What I want is a place that sells a good selection of real ales. Provide decent food at reasonable prices. No television, no music, no fruit machines and no children. If all this sounds familiar, it should. That was Wetherspoons original charter which they did extremely well up until a few years ago and in my opinion have been getting it wrong ever since. There are now a few pubs that offer what I want (and I don't think I am alone) and the numbers are growing. End of rant. On to Out and About with Pete. We both had a pint of Bees Knees 4.2%. A pleasant golden beer with just a slight subtle hint of honey.

The Berkley was beginning to fill up and with only two barmen on duty it was obvious that getting a further pint would take some time. So we decided to leg it over the road, past the university and head down St Michael's Hill where we entered the White Bear. A reassuring notice outside the pub said that a nice warm cosy welcome was within. However, it was a bit cold inside but the barmaid said that the heating had been sorted out and it would soon warm up. There was not a great choice of real ales to pick from, in contradiction to my rant above.  Doombar was off so we settled for the Otter Ale 4.5%. After a brief discussion about Christmas and the coldest conditions we had every worked or lived under we drank up and left. Further on down the hill we entered one pub, which shall remain nameless (mainly because I can't remember the name). It doesn't really matter because we could not find anyone to serve us anyway and besides the choice of real ale was very limited. Ever hopeful we pushed on down the hill and found the Colston Arms. A small but proper pub. Here I met a dog called Harvey and a cat called Mouvey although the person who told me about the cat didn't know how to spell or pronounce the cat's name. Anyway had a very nice pint of Hobgoblin 4.5%. However, time was getting on so we decided that a further pint of Hobgoblin would probably turn into two or three so we stretched our legs and found the Colston Yard. There was small range of real ales but we had the Butcombe Christmas Steps 4.2%, well it is Christmas after all. After setting the world to rights and giving some relationship advice to a couple (not to their faces you understand) who were part of a larger Christmas party we decided to call it day and try and get out of Bristol before the rush hour began in earnest. So ended being Out and About with Pete and we made our merry way down to the Centre to catch our respective buses home.

At the bottom of Colston Street Pete spied a number 1 bus at a stop and hastily headed off. I thought he would not make it as the bus was a fair distance off and Pete has only got little legs. I had a choice either to head over the Centre or up a side street to hopefully catch a number 42 or number 43. I opted for the side street. Making my way there a number 42 and a number 43 passed me by. On reaching the bus stop I spotted a number 1 with a glowing Pete on the top deck. Why is it that Pete just manages to catch his bus and I just manage to miss mine. Are there dark forces at work here or am I destined to always to 'just miss my bus'. However, after a 20 minute wait a number 43 turned up and I climbed aboard. A number 43 meant a 10 walk from Kingswood shopping centre to my house but at least I was in the warm. 40 minutes and a small nap later I arrived in Kingswood. Getting in the house there was a very welcoming bowl of ox tail stew awaiting me. What could be nicer after a hard afternoon drinking real ale and talking bullocks. Tonight is curry night although I might not have a curry. Watch this space to find out what I decide to stuff down my throat.