Welcome back. And if you joined us for the previous episode, you'll know that I was on a long bumpy bus ride back to Scarborough on a dark wintry evening, having ticked off four of the best/worst in Whitby and Robin Hood's Bay.
A drunk Mum has to helped off the bus by her apologetic daughter somewhere close to Cloughton. A couple of times, drunk Mum had tried to get my attention. I ignored her. "Oi, you think you are better than me, is that it?" she eventually slurred. The answer of course, was 'yes, I very much am'.
Being 6:40pm, my final GBG tick of the night (a club) was not open yet, and you can't say that very often. So I let the bus go right through to the railway station, so I could have a widdle ('in' not 'on', I'd like to clarify for those of you who still haven't forgiven me for Newark. I lost more followers than Kurt Zouma that day).
I made my way through the Scabby mean streets until the club came into view. Light on, door open, someone at home. 6:55pm. Now, if this was 11:55am, I'd wait until 12:01pm in a bid to be deferential, but at this time of day 'sod it, what kinda place opens 7pm anyway?' was more my attitude.
|Might need a top up on my Azacca, but I'm not asking!|
|View to a snooker room|
|Keano gets a taste for the ale|
|Blind Sooty - always the sign of a classic (RetiredMartin taught me that)|
|Blackpool Jane spotted a ghost in this photo. Can you?|
|Sausage & Cheese muffin in the foil, if you wondered|
|I'm on the Quaffer, which used to be Guzzler. Even I didn't know that. Top bloke, top pub|
|The Dewhurst's are back, and Col is delighted to see his old mates|
|That's some proper pub carpetage|
|My phone is so #WokeSi2022, it wouldn't focus on the sexist pump clips|
|Now that's what I call a menu|
|Look at the pub's little face|
|Brewers Gold + 5 Yorkshire ales|