March 2026. Burton-on-Trent. A Friday afternoon in search of Burton Bass, and a couple of votes on the Bass fan page for the Burton Bridge, another GBG regular that has had it’s share of turmoil of late. But nothing like the turmoil of the Hangar, aka Crossing; Caliente; Brewers Bar; Cosmo; InnStitute; Cosmopolitan;...

March 2026. Burton-on-Trent. Never blog after six twelve glasses of Kolsch. Never mind, it’s nearly all pictures from the home of Bass, I’ll leave the prosaic descriptions and history to others. I guess Bass in the Coopers is as iconic as Paffgen in Lommies, but I hadn’t been for nearly a decade till Friday. Less...

March 2026. Burton on Trent. Last week seemed like mental torture, another weekend without making it to that Guisborough brewery tap that only opens 3:30 to 4 on Saturdays. But in fact I did manage East Grinstead (whoopy doo) and Burton on Trent (whoop), the latter scratching a major itch. Despite living a mere 42...

March 2026. East Grinstead. West Sussex. Our weekly trip from Sheffield to Waterbeach was followed by the monthly mercy mission to Kent, where we took father-in-law over Sussex border to the Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead for essential maintenance. The Vic is a world-renowned centre for facial surgery,...

March 2026. Sheffield. Our friends from Chicago roused themselves at an uncivilised hour on the Monday and we ferried them back to Luton, a journey which might have shattered their illusions about pastoral England. By Tuesday I needed to get out the house, anywhere, and jumped on the first bus from Langsett Road,...

March 2026. Sheffield. It was two-thirty on our “cultural Sunday” and we still hadn’t taken our Chicago guests (a bit wary of an extended pub crawl, perhaps), in a pub ! Apart from the breakfast pint in Spoons. Five and a half hours later we’d rather remedied that omission, and I think Meighan and Dave had worked...

I’ve never been to Chicago (or Minneapolis), but it’s been on my Bucket List since Ferris took us there on his day off forty (40) years ago. Yes, yes, press PLAY now. Having had their bit of Peak onm Saturday, Sunday was for culture. No, not whippets and Hendos, not even the Park Hill flats, but an aimless wander...

March 2025. Hilsborough. Sheffield. Much of the non-political discussion that Saturday night with our guests from Chicago centred on “service” culture and Wetherspoons. Dave (not THAT Dave) was in awe as I described folk drinking beer with their full English at 9am, and added a morning pint in Spoons to his To Do...

March 2026. Sheffield and the Peak. Last weekend we “hosted” (ugh) Meighan and Dave from Chicago during their whirlwind tour of Europe. I have never seen Mrs RM go into such a cleaning frenzy, which sadly extended to getting me to mow the lawn. What happened to the wild garden craze ? I knew nothing about Meighan...

March 2026. Nottingham. My Nottingham gig ends at a quarter to ten so Rescue Rooms can put on a Harry Styles “Fandom Party” (aka disco), a change from my usual London gigs that start just before 10pm and ensure I’m dashing to Kings Cross for the last train, full of drunk HR professionals from Royston. That gives me...

March 2026. Nottingham. Gig night in Nottingham, a first pint in the Olde Trip in years, and I would have had tea in another contender for the “Oldest pub” title, but the Bell looked a bit scruffy and unloved, so the Joseph Else, my go-to Notts Spoons, gets my business. Yes, yes, it’s non-acoholic Punk with my...

March 2026. Nottingham. The Americans were in town in early March, giving me as busy a gig schedule as I’ve ever had. Actually, Leith Ross is from Ontario, but since Russ is taking a break from commenting I can confidently tell you that Canada is now part of America, and who wouldn’t want to be ? Back from gigs in...