Med Dogs And Abyssinians

At the weekend, Liz and I headed over to Victoria for a trip down to Gillingham.

Not a place we'd go to other than for football - and this trip certainly wasn't to congratulate the Gills on their recent elevation to League One though we are heartily pleased to see the back of their small-minded chairman, Paul Scully.

Mr Scully had recently called for more severe punishments to befall the likes of Darlo and Rotherham this season. Thanks for the solidarity, you git - wait until you're in the clarts!

Instead we'd come down to view the prospective new member of our household - an Abyssinian kitten at the home of breeder Val - just a goalkick or so from the Priestfield Stadium itself.

(right) a cute candidate for the Rowles-Beard household

We've had a couple of Abyssinians for the past 17 years but Dusty died at Christmas and we thought now was the right time to get another to fill the void - get back to full cattage so to speak.

Val had a litter of three ruddy kittens - she was keeping one of the two males for herself and we were having the other once she decides which is best for breeding.

However she sprung a bit of a surprise by showing us their sister who was born with three legs - possibly as a result of some antibiotics given to the mother during pregnancy - and she wondered if we'd like to take her as well?

After a few seconds to consider this offer it didn't take long to say "yes" - it would seem a shame to let her go somewhere on her own and I'm sure they'll both fit onto my lap without much trouble. No doubt our current cat-in-residence, Emma, will appreciate the catty company.

On the way back home, we took the opportunity of dropping into nearby Rochester to try out a few of their pubs. I'd not come unprepared - a map of the better establishments had been knocked up in typical DAFTS-stylee and chum Chris Turner had not put up much of a fight when asked to come along.

The first port of call was the Man of Kent where we found that Chris had got there before us and was into his opening pint.

I say the first port of call but in reality we ended up staying here the whole afternoon - it was just the sort of pub that I love.

(left) Man of Kent

The exterior was described to me by a local as "Medway Tudor" - it's certainly a classic in the same way that many Watney, Combe, Reid pubs are in London - the pub sign itself is a beauty with a Viv Stanshall-esque character as the Man of Kent.

On entry you're met by a big roaring fire and a large hairy but friendly landlord - no TV screens or loud games machines either - just a cosy atmosphere with plenty of liquid choice.

I started off with a pint of the Larkin's 3.4% Traditional - an easy entry into the day - whilst we perused the range of Kentish beers (or Beers of Kent as I suppose it should be) on offer.

They had a Kentish Dark and Kentish Gold from the Millis Brewery, Golden Braid from Hopdaemon, Faversham Creek from the Whitstable Brewery, Gadd's Dogbolter and finally Silver Star and Gold Star from Goacher's.

In addition they had a fairly decent range of foreign bottled beers - including an exotic range from Mongozo (Coconut anyone?) - plus three taps for the Meantime Brewery.

One of the Meantime offerings was the Elderflower Maibock which a few of us in the bar had a small taster of. Quite a flowery smell as you'd expect but not a lot of flavour - rather disappointing on the whole.

One feature of the pub that you simply cannot ignore is the pub dog, a big black Staffy called Dude - he likes to sit amongst the regulars but was more than happy to come and spare some time with we newbies.

After buying some nibbles we were put under strict orders from the landlord not to spare any for the pooch.

(right) Dude, the pub dog, and a regular in perfect harmony

And Dude seems to be well aware of this - he eyed us up with interest as we opened our packets but knew it would be pointless to come over and beg for some.

After trying a few more beers, Chris and I settled on the Golden Braid - the best of the bunch for me - before finally we headed home as hunger pangs got the better of us.

The Man of Kent comes highly recommended - on our next visit we must start the crawl somewhere else...

Jumpers For Goalposts

This month my old primary school is celebrating it's centenary year and as a result my Mum and I have been going through some old school photos to scan in so they can be put on display and show the pupils today just what it was like "in them days".

As well as myself, my two sisters both attended the Applegarth in Northallerton and the school still plays a large part in our family as my Mum continues to work there for a few hours each day as a playground assistant. Not bad for someone who should really be retired but she really enjoys working with the kids and being a part of a nice little school like this.

Seeing the photos it was difficult to reconcile the modern-day me with the young, thin chap starting out in life that you can see in the photo below.

Applegarth Primary football team, 1971

Can you guess which one was me? No beard to give you a clue unfortunately. A nice mixture of football boots, shoes and sandals on display - no poncy white boots here.

There's also another Darlo fan here - David "Sam" Turner - who was a regular home and away attender for many years but who now just comes to the odd game in the north-west.

This was the last year in which this rather old-fashioned, rugby-type kit was used. In 1972 when I was in the top class we got a new kit - more or less the West Germany World Cup kit - all white with black trim. Very smart.

Did you find me? I'm in the front row, second from right - looks like I've even got a scab on my knee. Sam Turner is second from the left in the same row...

London Bridge Calling

There was a small but perfectly formed batch of Darlo-ness in London Bridge last night when a few of the capital's DAFTS got together for a few beers.

The venue was the Wheatsheaf - the new version of the pub of the same name just round the corner by Borough Market - the original is now closed so that work can be done to try and eradicate the rail bottleneck between Charing Cross and London Bridge stations. I'll believe that when I see it.

The new place is a basement pub - what used to be a Davy's Wine Bar apparently - which lies under the impressive Hop Exchange. It's quite a decent place - stone floors, plenty of seating, Sky TV (but not intrusive), not too noisy and decorated with black and white photos of the original Wheatsheaf's regulars (including a couple of topless ladies who I don't remember seeing in the old place unfortunately).

The place still appears to be a Young's pub and has two of their beers but there were about 4 or 5 interesting guest beers on. Howard and I arrived together and both opted for the Elgood's Golden Newt - as the name suggests it's a golden ale - slightly flowery and not too hoppy - easy drinking.

We were soon joined by Christopher - due to be back in the capital on a permanent basis before too long - who was just in time to get the drinks before John turned up and we got into the thick of things Darlo-wise.

The consensus of opinion is that we're very happy to still have a team in the league next season but obviously wary of how things will go - not so much on the pitch but in terms of the long-term stability of the club.

(left) The Wheatsheaf

The chairman has not made any friends and it's fair to say that the spotlight will be on him throughout the coming months.

Next season will undoubtedly be a slog - a reduced budget will gives us a much smaller squad which won't match the quality we seen in the past ten months - I'm sure we'll get the more traditional type of Darlo performances and will sap our reserves of optimism - new manager Colin Todd has his work cut-out.

But it's a situation like this that means the DAFTS way of approaching things - have a good time in the pub before the game so the day isn't a total waste - will come into it's own. We're an optimistic bunch - why else do we turn up? - so I'm sure we'll have some fun along the way.

As ever there's been a lot of hot air on Darlo messageboards - a few fans seem set to boycott home games so as not to line the pockets of George Houghton (as if) - I think we all know where they're coming from but actions like this are ultimately self-defeating.

So I'll be renewing my season ticket and my player sponsorship - the club needs our money and support - but that doesn't mean I condone or forgive George Houghton for his actions of recent months.

All this bluster was thirsty work and so time for more beers - this time I tried the Loddon Hullabaloo - slightly darker and maltier than the Golden Newt but a nice drop all the same.

It was all too much for Howard though - his elderly bladder called time on his night out - and then Chris (and other half Susie who had also joined us) went off in search of some food.

John and I stayed for another couple before wandering over to the nearby Rake - we tried each of the two beers on handpump, one of which was a wheat beer from Springhead which was OK but slightly dull. I forget what John had.

We decided we'd also have a taste of the 10% porter from Stone - which is where the third of a pint glass comes into it's own. The porter was a very full-on affair, extremely liqouricey, and a half would have been too much for us at that stage - nevertheless a very good one-for-the-road beer. And it was then time to hit the road...

Over for another year...

And so the Macc beer festival is over for another year - Friday night was sold out and Saturday wasn't far off whilst the free Saturday lunchtime session saw a healthy number of CAMRA members and families coming to enjoy a more laid-back experience with only the strains of some acoustic music to trouble the ears.

When I arrived on Thurs afternoon, the barrels were all set in place and labelled up - just a few small jobs remained such as sorting out the cider and perries.

Once these were in place, we had a check of each and found that there were a couple of real crackers - the 4.5% Happy Daze and 6% Pyder, both from Gwynt y Doraig, were extremely drinkable.

(left) Glasses at the ready

The vintage dry from the monastic Prinknash Abbey - it's last offering for a while apparently - was sadly disappointing.

In the evening Keef (and Jill) took me to try some beers from the new-ish Bollington Brewery Company at it's brewery tap, the Vale Inn in Bollington - a couple of barrels had finished just as we got there so we got stuck into their Wheat Nancy which was very drinkable.

Friday morning wasn't very demanding - the odd last minute touch to the bar and a final watering of barrels - and then it was time to drop into the Waters Green Tavern for a beer and a bit of snap.

The Beartown Blonde that I tried was a bit on the watery side but there was an excellent stout from Thornbridge on offer called Brock plus a refreshing brew called OTT from Phoenix.

(right) Trev and Dave Hasler check the beers

On return to the marquee, it was now time for one of our favourite tasks - checking the beers - with Trevor leading the way and Keef and I following in his wake.

By the end of the 120-odd barrels it was a bit of a blur trying to remember what was what - I don't make notes - may be some of the dark beers were a touch too cold and may be could have done without that last watering - but they'd warm up once we had a few bodies in.

Friday night tends to be the busiest session of the three - and this was no exception - thankfully the warm weather meant people could wander outside. W e had a healthy number of volunteer bar staff too and so didn't get too rushed off our feet.

I was at one end of the bar (breweries T to W) where the peoples' favourites were Wibbly Wallaby from local brewer Wincle and Original Blonde from the White Rose brewery in Sheffield - these were popular with both sexes and took a real hammering during the session.

By the time the bar closed at midnight, we'd all had a good time but the work wasn't quite over - Trev, Keef and I needed to check each barrel so Trev could see how we were doing for the rest of the weekend.

Dipping barrels using a dipstick has always proved problematic and slow going in amongst the scaffold of the bar so Trev has developed a little device that uses a piece of beer line, a L-shaped piece of wood and basic physics to give a reading of how much is left in the barrel - it turns out to be a lot quicker than using the dipstick and we were finished well before our taxi arrives to whisk us back to Bolly.

Nevertheless, it was still 2am by the time I got to bed and so we didn't make it back to the festival until 11am on the Sat morning by which time the marquee was looking all spruce and clean once more.

The previous nights readings had been feed into Trev's spreadsheet and he'd determined we were on course with no need for any emergency barrels.

(left) Keef checks the tasting notes

A queue had gathered almost an hour early for the lunchtime session as it's very popular with the ticker community and those who prefer a more peaceable environment - Darlo chum Colin Fletcher was amongst them along with his collection of Panda Pop bottles so that he could do a bit of bottling.

Also present, as he is every year, is local MP Sir Nicholas Winterton doing his bit for the traditional brewing trade.

Fewer bar staff in action but it never got too busy and there was plenty of time for us to chat with the customers. By this stage, a couple more beers started to grow in popularity in my area - the hoppy Yard Hopper (4%) from Ferryhill's Yard of Ale brewery and the Great Wegber (5.5%) from the Yorkshire Dales brewery, an extremely smooth porter.

Once the session closed at 3:30pm there was another flurry of checking the levels before Margaret (the soon-to-be Mrs Trev) and I wandering into Macc for fish and chips though precious few seemed to be open after 2pm.

And then it was a matter of waiting for the evening session - basically thumb twiddling until 7pm.

This final session saw a lot of younger Maxonians - many in groups and clearly not familiar with cask ale and usually asking for something like lager - "got anything like Stella, mate?".

Normally we do try and suggest alternatives to those not familiar with cask - the Yard Hopper is quite light and was a decent alternative to lager close to hand - we don't want to preach to them as that doesn't really work whereas giving them a few samples so they can get a chance to try other tastes often brings interesting results. However it was just far too busy to do this.

(above) Busy bar in action

The Wincle Wallaby and Original Blonde soon gave up the ghost, the barrels exhausted in less than 30 mins, by which time the Lavender Honey from the Wolf brewery had been put on having finally settled and was proving very popular.

It was a hard session - I wasn't particularly in the mood for beer and probably had one pint all night but did manage about four cans of lukewarm coke - I was glad when it was all over to be honest.

Well not quite over - a final measuring to see how much had been drunk before we then had to strip down the bar ready for the marquee to be taken down at 6am the following day - any barrels with beer left just had to be emptied - a sad waste but what can you do? Most people have had enough by then.

In all 11,509 pints of were drunk over the weekend - not to mention foreign bottled beers and the 20 pins of cider and perry which went in double-quick time - the order for that will certainly be increased for next year's festival.

And virtually every one had a good time with few incidents of note thanks to the efficient security and the friendly nature of the event. See you there next year...

Macc Fest

This week I'll have the pleasure of working at the Macclesfield beer festival as for once in recent years it doesn't clash with a Darlo game.

The Macclesfield Charity Beer Festival (to give it it's full name) is not your normal average beer festival - it's a joint effort with the local Round Table, Macclesfield rugby club (who host the event ina marquee in their car park) and members of the local CAMRA branch.

It's through the latter that I got involved since my mate Keith was a local member and was one of those originally tasked with sorting out the beer side of things for the inaugural festival in 1994. I came along to help him look after the bar and have only missed about four festivals since then.

The event heavily features musical entertainment each night and as such it attracts a wider range of people than a normal CAMRA festival - more your average sort of weekend-town-centre-drinker in attendance - and it's a much looked forward to fixture on the Macc social calendar.

(left) Trev and Keith check ale is well

My other mate, Trevor, has taken on the role of bar manager for quite a few years now and each year sees him put together a very impressive range of beers.

And each year the vast majority of them are served in tip-top condition by a bunch of volunteer bar staff- there's always one or two barrels that don't drop or are off but they're few and far between. You'll do well to find anyone who leaves disappointed.

Looking after the beer is always fun as the weather in May can vary from one extreme to the other - in the early days things were quite primitive, some years we're struggling to keep the beer cool and other years it's too cold - incontinence pads were used to either keep the barrels warm or dampened to keep them cool.

With upwards of a thousand folk each night, it's hard work keeping them all served and happy - especially when they don't know what they want.

"What do you recommend?" is the question I hate most - almost as annoying as "Don't you do Boddies/Stones?".

(above) Everything ready - just waiting for the punters

That is why I prefer the relative calm of the Macclesfield and East Cheshire CAMRA Saturday afternoon session where it's a more familiar crowd of "individuals" along with tickers from the north-west and Yorkshire making their way. Entry is free and it's a very relaxed lunchtime session where you actually have time to talk.

If you're in the area this weekend, do drop in and say hello...

Bees Sting

I knew deep down that I should have ended this season's attendance at Spotland last weekend - a truly excellent day out as Bill (or Ted) might have said - but instead habit drove me along the usual early morning trail to King's Cross to take in my final game of the season.

In theory it was a last visit to Da Vinci's for breakfast - I'm now known by the staff and no longer have to order - "your usual, sir?" and a nod from me is now enough to get me my early morning plate of plenty. And it's been consistently very good throughout the season. However I'm sure I'll find an excuse to pop in during the close season.

The journey north was pleasant enough - we were sat with a nice chap from Reading who was a Leeds fan - off to Hartlepool for his sins.

In fact to qualify for an away ticket he'd had to attend a minimum of 19 away games - very credible, or very sad, depending on your point of view. Although I subsequently heard that a lot of Leeds fans got around this by simply paying cash on the day to go into the home areas.

Arriving at Bank Top station at 10:30, there were a few police awaiting the expected hordes of Brentford and Leeds fans - in fact there were a handful of Bees fans waiting expectantly outside Hogans.

As ever all the handpumps were in use in the Quaker today - and quite a few dark beers amongst them too - which included York Brewery's Terrier and Last Drop Bitter; Quartz Heart, 3 River's Delta Mild (not too popular it seems - had been on over a week and still some left!), Stump Cross Ale from the Richmond Brewery, Hadrian & Border's Secret Kingdom and from the Jarrow Brewery, Venerable Bede and Rivet Catcher.

There was a decent quota of DAFTS on parade too - John Wilson had travelled up the night before, Steve Duffy had flown up to Newcastle from Cardiff and Keanu Reeves body-double Brian Elsey had travelled up from Sheffield - obviously no Hollywood duties this weekend.

(left) Keanu Reeves - it had been a hard week

As usual we then wandered up to Number Twenty-2 for an hour or so - there looked to be an interesting stout on offer but it was just too warm for that. By this time we'd been joined by Tony and Lesley plus John, her Dad, neither of who had been to a home game for quite a while.

Arriving at the ground it was interesting to see a bunch of bulky rugby league players handing out leaflets to the fans - it seems that Gateshead Thunder are playing their Challenge Cup tie against Oldham at the Arena on the 9th May. Let's hope they get a decent crowd for that.

I wandered off to reception before the game for my usual quick chat with John and Eric - today I was also picking up Steve Foster's away shirt, sponsored by yours truly for the second season running, as I wouldn't be attending the official presentations following the All Stars Game.

Any misgivings I'd had about attending this game were put to bed within seconds of the kick-off as Alan White's careless (and that's being diplomatic) aerial challenge on Damian Spencer fully deserved a red card - the Brentford man suffering a fractured cheekbone in the process proving he wasn't making a meal of the clash.

It's not the first time Whitey has been sent off for a challenge like this - I seem to remember something similar at Exeter a few weeks ago and overall it's his fourth red card with Darlo in two seasons - and it put paid to any chances we had of getting any sort of result from this game. And what is most frustrating is that it the challenge was on the touchline - not even in a dangerous area - and totally unnecessary other than to make a strong first impression on an opposite number. Well, that was certainly achieved - well done...

There was a rapid reorganisation and Darlo looked to be holding out quite well despite a lot of Brentford possession until the Bees were awarded a disputed corner - the refereee apparently over-ruling his linesman - and from it they scored.

And then any expectation of beating the odds a la Lincoln were extinguished when Billy Clarke headed a second just before the break - at least he had the good grace not to celebrate too frantically in front of us.

(above) Three wise something or others

A shame really as we'd had a couple of good chances - including a cracking free kick from Franz which clipped the bar.

The second half saw Brentford get the benefit of some further dodgy decisions from the referee - Franz went down (rather theatrically of course) after being taken out in the box but it was a stonewall penalty. But no, not a sniff from the ref.

Instead Brentford got the ball down the other end very smartly and Clarke made it 3-0.

Despite fears of a rout, Darlo tightened up and even pulled one back after Abbott slid the ball under the keeper. The last few minutes were a bit fractious - one their defenders should certainly have followed White for an early bath after manhandling Abbott but the ref was happy to only book both parties - an equal opportunities ref obviously.

These decisions would probably had no impact on the overall result but it just left a bad taste - fair play to Brentford on their promotion but it was hard to take when we really should have been in the mix as well. With this in mind, there were plenty of anti-Houghton chants throughout the game and apparently he made himself scarce in the second half.

Whereas Bank Top station at the end of last season saw Dagenham & Redbridge celebrating their eleventh-hour retention of their league status for another season (and look where they are now), this time it was Brentford fans raising the rafters.

Our carriage was full of them chanting all the way to Kings Cross - some dotty old passenger optimistically asked them to "please stop singing" - some hope dear. Thankfully my walkman and the fantastic new album from Mastodon came to the rescue whilst poor old Martin simply had to suffer in silence.

On arrival back into Kings Cross the celebrating Bees all headed straight down into the tube, back to Brentford and champagne in the Griffin (or so they were hoping) allowing Martin and I to escape to the relative peace and quiet of the Betjeman Arms where we met Paul, our Wycombe chum, and his friend Dave.

Paul had been up to Stoke to see Wycombe settle for a point at Port Vale - and so they're still short of automatic promotion for another week - whereas Dave had been to Derby to see Charlton get beat in front of a very respectable 33,000 crowd. A season of highs and lows for all of us.

Also in the pub were a pack of London Wolves who were still celebrating their promotion to the Premiership - last time we saw a couple of these chaps in the Doric Arch they'd been very much the worse for wear but they still recognised me from our chat that day - "Hey, Beardyman!" - well, I assume they meant me...

Up Hill, Down Dale

I popped along early to King's Cross to check that Martin caught his train to Leeds - he's just so disorganised when left to his own devices - before I headed over to Euston for a last visit for the season to the Double Six for breakfast and then on the 8am train to Manchester.

For once in my life, a Virgin train journey to Manchester actually went to schedule - arriving at Piccadilly in just over two hours - which meant I could get a train from Victoria so that I was in Rochdale by 11am. Why don't they always work like this?

(left) Rochdale Town Hall

The weather was all bright and beautiful, blue skies and lots of sun, so I took the slighty more scenic route into town via the park overlooking the town hall - not at all grim - and then wound my way through the shopping precinct to the delightfully named Toad Lane and our pre-match pub, the Baum.

The pub is right next door to the Rochdale Pioneers Museum which is based in the preserved original store from the early days of the Co-operative movement. But no time for culture today though.

The Baum was brought to my attention in Tandleman's beer blog - a great source for info on pubs in the Manchester area - and Liz took the London Millers there a few weeks ago when they were at Spotland. They enjoyed their visit so much it became their trip of the season.

Beers on offer included Holts Fifth Sense, Black Banjo Stout from local brewery Green Mill, Flowers IPA, Boggart Bogeyed and Phoenix Spotland Gold. I tried the latter two and both were nice, steady session ales in good condition and perfect for early lunchtime drinking.

Colin "I'll have an 'alf" Fletcher wasn't far behind in joining me there - he'd narrowly missed joining me at Victoria station - and predictably he went straight for a half of the stout.

The pub is quite similar to Number Twenty-2 in some respects - off the main circuit of town pubs and with probably a slightly older set of drinkers plus those who pop in for a coffee after visiting the museum next door.

Speaking to the manager though he said he'd had about 100 Port Vale fans dumped on them by the police before the last home game. Lucky Vale fans, less lucky for the bar staff.

(right) The Baum

We left the pub and headed up Spotland Road and just made it into our seats with seconds to spare before kick-off. A decent turnout of Darlo fans given the late re-arrangement of the fixture for television - I'm sure Martin wasn't the only one who lost money on non-refundable rail tickets but do Sky really give a toss?

There was action at both ends from the off - Rochdale first went close then Pavel Abbot was put through only to hit the ball straight at the keeper.

We didn't have to wait long for first blood though after a nice bit of interplay saw the ball bounce up nicely for Jason Kennedy who looped the ball over their keeper - an absolute scorcher. But had we peaked too early?

The goal stunned Rochdale - not just the players but the crowd who suddenly went very quiet and nervous. Darlo fans all know this sensation far too well because we've experienced it enough times at home games - freezing on the big occasion.

Thereafter Rochdale had the lion's share of possession but didn't make it tell - White and Miller dealt with most things thrown at us and when Dale did get through on goal they either blazed wide or made it relatively easy for Kazimierczak to save.

Darlo were no slouches though and had their own chances during the half - Abbot wasted a great chance to put Poole though on goal and Miller beat their keeper only to head wide - but it was Kennedy's goal that separated the teams at half-time.

Rochdale came out fighting in the second half and Darlo rarely got out of their half in the first ten minutes but we slowly came back into it a bit and looked dangerous on the break until we finally doubled our lead in the 65th minute.

From a partially cleared corner, captain Ricky Ravenhill headed the ball back into the box - from this Abbott looped his header against the post and a Dale defender knocked it into his own net while attempting to clear the ball.

Rochdale never really recovered from this - they huffed and puffed for the remainder of the half but Darlo more or less closed the defensive doors and ran down the clock.

A well-deserved victory through hard-work and team play.

(left) Colin and Martin in the Baum

We popped back into the Baum, dragging Martin with us, for a celebratory pint and to enjoy the moment - very sweet. We can be magnanimous in victory when we have to...

We then wandered back to the station and headed back into Manchester for a trawl of some of the pubs between Victoria and Piccadilly stations.

First point of call was the Smithfield Hotel - a veritable Mecca for tickers - where I had a pint of some hoppy Easter beer - I stopped paying too much attention at this point. It's a cheap and cheerful hotel reminiscent of the Dalesman - the bar is a bit rough and ready but it was full of folk ticking beers and watching the Villa-West Ham game. And with some small dogs in attendance, what more do you want?

From here it was just a short walk along Swan Street to the Crown and Kettle - a nice pub which has a very ornate ceiling of which only part has been renovated - some decent beers on tap as well. We had a pint here but as soon as the Arsenal-Chelsea FA Cup came on the TV we voted to move on.

Just over the road is Bar Fringe - it doesn't look the type of place to do real ale from the outside but they had four beers on tap when we were there - and a nice lively atmosphere. It's been described as an authentic recreation of an Amsterdam brown bar - hmm, not quite that but worth a visit all the same.

A pint was enough for us both at this point - Colin had already gone for his train home - and we soon followed in his footsteps to catch the 18:55 to Euston. Not surprisingly we were soon out for the count, waking in time for another on-time arrival.

A very good day out in all respects and for me, a great way to end the away trips for this season - good rail journey, great pubs and a great result.