tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396204660331057802.post6964423503370210984..comments2024-01-02T00:13:16.771-08:00Comments on When My Feet Go Through the Door: The lines they aren't a-changin'Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00387170913578542671noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396204660331057802.post-15046907693081009772018-10-11T23:48:21.263-07:002018-10-11T23:48:21.263-07:00I stopped going in my local of twenty-odd years as...I stopped going in my local of twenty-odd years as during its transformation from cheap, smoky boozer to pretentious dining pub (knocking through the vault, removing the dart board, introducing a deli and ice cream counter) they increased not just the prices of the beer but the number of handpumps from two (bitter and mild) to five, and I got fed up paying over the odds for tired beer just so people eating pizza and drinking prosecco could admire the shiny range of truncheons on the bar.Matthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00387170913578542671noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396204660331057802.post-36102929409333430452018-10-11T05:34:16.584-07:002018-10-11T05:34:16.584-07:00Spot on.
Any idea how many pubs of cask get sold ...Spot on.<br /><br />Any idea how many pubs of cask get sold a day in your local, whatever that is ?retiredmartinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15429804437739227082noreply@blogger.com