January 2026. Cleveleys. Blackpool. This Blackpool tram map is getting some use. More use than the actual trams that Friday, anyway. Two uncoventional new pubs in the GBG in Cleveleys, but the Wobblinn has one thing that might attract the Pub Men. No, not the seating, or the fire extinguisher; it’s the beer...

January 2026. Cleveleys. Blackpool. Dashing from the Beer Shed, I made the Fisherman’s Walk tram stop with 20 seconds to spare. Or actually, 20 minutes, as the trams north seemed to head into Fleetwood and disappear. “Trams every 10 minutes” said the signs, the evidence of our own eyes that Friday rather different....

January 2026. Fleetwood. I’d travelled the length of Blackpool’s tram network for some photos of a noble if faded seaside town and a GBG tick. And, while the Beer Shed looks a bit plain micropub, it’s another exemplar of the model, cheery and chatty and a great advert for cask. First of all, I have to get in. As I...

January 2026. Fleetwood. Not really a cut-out-and-keep guide, and I’d struggle to sell you Fleetwood (pop. 26,232, plus a Football League team) as a holiday destination, but it’s better than Clacton, so there’s that. I had half an hour before my new GBG pub opened, plenty of time really. I’d actually seen the owner...

January 2026. Blackpool. When you left us Mrs RM was in St Annes Spoons, resisting the onion rings but succumbing to Chardonnay and Cointreau after that Imperial Stout. It may be her only relapse during an otherwise impeccably observed Dryanuary. In consequence, she was in no mood to join me in the chill of the St...

January 2026. St Annes. Mrs RM decided to leave the Fifteen at Seventeen Twenty-Three. I have no idea why. “A walk along the bracing sea front, Mrs RM ?“ “No, Mr RM. Tea and back to that nice warm room at the Travelodge“. St Annes was looking pleasant by night, with lots of dining options, including Australian tapas...

January 2026. St Annes. Two nights in St Annes, with Friday designated as “Tick Blackpool Day”, so we went local on Thursday. St. Tanz is the sort of genius pun that BRAPA would be proud of, in a seaside retirement town that lacks trad pubs but makes it up for it in micros. Lytham has the Taps, for many years St...

January 2026. Lytham St. Annes. A confession. The things that stress me aren’t the things that should stress an approaching middle-age boomer. I detest cars. Last Autumn (America – “Fall”) our Citroen’s gears started playing up, the main dealer quoted us £5k just to take the box out, and even with my lucrative...

January 2026. Watton. Norfolk. I knew you’d want a proper post on Watton (pronounced Wotton) ahead of the holiday you’ve just booked on account of the NBSS 4 that I just gave Greene King IPA. Assuming you’re going, here’s some accommodation for next Friday; Personally I would always go for a hotel with “Vibe” in it,...

January 2026. Watton. Norfolk. Obviously no pressure to visit the GBG newbies anymore, but there’s something compelling about them, even if my pinking is a bit half-hearted these days. The places I’d circled were the newbies, and as I’ve completed Norfolk every year since Delia Smith did her “Let’s be ‘avin’ you”...

January 2026. Sheffield. Enough of me, I’m sure you’re all keen to know how Mrs RM is getting on with her 0.0 January. Well, she holds on to the lie that alcohol-free beer tastes just like the real thing, and was ready to have temptation placed in her way with a Sunday in Kelham Island. Kelham gets new housing by...

January 2026. Sheffield. Back home in Sheffield on Saturday lunchtime, I hid under the covers avoiding the Manchester derby. Unless I’m physically at the match, I have to avoid the score till the final whistle and last VAR review. “Ooh, are City losing ?” asks Mrs RM. All her friends are United supporting glory...