There’s quite a hive of activity
on the street of the oldest pub in Coventry. We’re surrounded by beautiful
merchant’s buildings and black cabs are regularly dropping off local hotties
for their nightly city crawl. Inside, I pass a corridor with two low beamed
timber rooms branching off either side. One’s full of tables and chairs while
the other’s a sitting room. Then I pass the bar to take a glance at this beer
festival. There’s not much left. A row of stillaging just shows two or three
beers remaining. I grab a couple of pints then head back outside to join some
friends who have commandeered a spot outside where we make use of their table
and watch others arrive. For my next pint I head to the bar which has a bit of
an attraction in itself as the beers look more inviting; while pub-crawlers are
readily coming and going in their quest to tick off as many city pubs as
possible. Suddenly we realise we’ve got to get a jaunt on if we’re to make our
last train back, but we somehow manage to hail down a hackney cab to round
everyone up.
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