Type Keyword and Press Enter to Search


In June, I had the pleasure of spending a freedom-filled and frolicking weekend in Rye, England. While in Rye I visited the oldest pub in the town, The Olde Bell. Built in 1390, it has the real feel of a boozer. 

After such an ungraciously long time putting up with what we have this past era of life, being able to go out in a pub, have a proper tipple and enjoy a public house was a real joy.

Of course, as you, there are a number of things I have missed about going to a pub. The bold skullduggery of pinching the only free, tenable table, just as a group have left. The immune system teasing task of neatly collecting remaining glasses for the bar staff to gather when they come to spray your thighs (and the table) with 99% proof cleaner. The dread of knowing you may not like the taste of the bubbly liquid you have just bought. But most important, undoubtedly, is the first sip of that sweet, sweet beer.

On this day, I tried Laine Ripper IPA. Solid. Sessional. A bit of me. It was a bit citric, and still bittery, which I was not expecting really.

Rye is a small town, and well connected by its thin, short streets.. which was fortunate for me as all I really wanted to do was quench my year-long thirst, forget the way I had walked in from, and inevitably let the ripper take me to where I needed to be. Alas, Lauren said we had to go for dinner. 

That's all for now. But visit Rye and give Laine a look if you're interested. 


No comments: