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Soup Dragon
09-12-2009, 20:22
Note: Isaac Newton's law.... 'for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction'. These wise words have nothing to do with faith or science, in fact they were written specifically for the real ale drinker and translate as follows:-

For each day out in Bridgnorth, there is a day of atonement in Solihull.

Indeed, as great a heaven that Bridgnorth is, surely there is no greater hell than Solihull. The Lord may have turned water into wine at the wedding at Cana, but i believe it beyond even His powers to make a decent pub appear in Solihull town.

Having met my drinking buddy in Brum, JB and I were pleased to hear the sound of the train rumbling into Moor St Station, so I could avoid the smell of sick that pervaded the station waiting room. A quick journey saw us alight at Solihull and meet Mumfie, our other drinking buddy.

The highlight of the trip was immediate, a quick drive out to The Case Is Altered. Mumfie typed its location into his sat-nav, which answered in a gritty voice, ‘Thank f*** for that, I thought you might want me to direct you to a pub in Solihull’ – I, worried, looked at JB. Mumfie smiled.

The little pub was great, it is traditional, with a few ales. JB and I tried them all, alas Mumfie just the one, on account of driving. I found it friendly and worth a visit and as we walked out, little did we know, the day had already peeked.

We parked up back at Mumfie’s place and headed into town, via the next port of call – The Golden Acres. A dull and depressing exterior does in fact hide a place that has good service and a few real ales, though the place was perhaps in need of a bit of TLC. The chap took one off, as he wasn’t happy with it – fair play to him and out of the choice of London pride, or a Cottage Brewery beer, so I opted for the Christmas Cracker, which was decent.

Nearing Solihull town, the hopes I had for the Red House, it being a Thwaites pub, vanished pretty quickly as we entered the first of a plethora of large, open plan, soulless places. We drank and moved on to eat at the Greville, a Sizzling pub – so quite traditional there then – its multicoloured walls cried out for George, Bungle and Zippy to sing ‘happy days are here again’, in a sarcastic tone.

Having walked through the grounds of the old workhouse, we arrived at The Townhouse, I walked in, turned, and walked out, thinking the Workhouse would have been more welcoming. Next, was the Saddlers. A name that made me think of the real ale pubs of Walsall, sadly, the poor Pedigree returned me to Solihull with the sting of a horse-whip.

TBC

arwkrite
09-12-2009, 22:25
Sounds depressing. I have driven through Solihull a couple of times usually having been diverted by road works on the M40/M42 and got lost.
Closest pubs have been a Beefeater and a Harvester near a big Tesco Extra and handy for a stop over near Birmingham airport. I know where they are because I have been there but I am blowed if I could describe how to get to them.:confused: Can't see me having reason to visit them again but no great loss.
That Isaac Newton had something to do with gravity and apples didn't he ? I know ,he invented a way to test the strength of cider, or did he ? mmmm.

hopwas
10-12-2009, 12:50
The Golden Acres. A dull and depressing exterior does in fact hide a place that has good service and a few real ales, though the place was perhaps in need of a bit of TLC. The chap took one off, as he wasn’t happy with it – fair play to him and out of the choice of London pride, or a Cottage Brewery beer, so I opted for the Christmas Cracker, which was decent.

As regular visitor to Golden Acres (One of close friend lives about 30 secs away) I can say it badly needs a complete refurbishment. However its real ales are outstanding and quite cheap. Did you notice it is half pub and half chinese?

Nearing Solihull town, the hopes I had for the Red House, it being a Thwaites pub, vanished pretty quickly as we entered the first of a plethora of large, open plan, soulless places.

I have to defend Red House, I thought it was cracking little pub and was packed on Monday nite last month. I Had Thwaites Bomber which is in top notch. I guess you went there in daytime, it can be souless but when night comes.. oh boy It will get packed. Had a pleasant chat with barmaids.

We drank and moved on to eat at the Greville, a Sizzling pub – so quite traditional there then – its multicoloured walls cried out for George, Bungle and Zippy to sing ‘happy days are here again’, in a sarcastic tone.

I only go to Greville Arms for lunch or Curry night. Nothing special about this pub

Next, was the Saddlers. A name that made me think of the real ale pubs of Walsall, sadly, the poor Pedigree returned me to Solihull with the sting of a horse-whip.

I last went to this pub when Tamworth was playing Solihull away way back in 2001. I remember grabbing quick pint before set off to Damsonwood wher Solihull plays. Seriously I cant remember what pint I had but I do remember I only stayed there for 10 mins.

oldboots
10-12-2009, 15:06
Good write up look forward to the next part. Have you thought perhaps it's not Newtonian physics but a punishment for deeds done in a past life? :eek:

Is a lifetimes boozing in Solihull adequete punishment for say Hitler or Stalin or is it more at just the Torquemada level?


Of course, if you're really bad in this life you may become the FLYING MILDMAN, condemned to roam the earth for ever in search of MILD :cool:

Soup Dragon
10-12-2009, 16:04
Is a lifetimes boozing in Solihull adequete punishment for say Hitler or Stalin or is it more at just the Torquemada level?


Of course, if you're really bad in this life you may become the FLYING MILDMAN, condemned to roam the earth for ever in search of MILD :cool:

The answer to question 1 is - as they are all dead, i couldn't say - but Simon Cowell would fit in nicely at these places.

Q2) Sounds like the few days i spent in Scarborough

and use the :notworthy: when mentioning MILD;)

Soup Dragon
14-12-2009, 14:54
The next several pubs merge together in similarity and obscurity, in the same way that Fosters, Carling and Carlesburg would. Bitterly let down by The Assembly Rooms and the quality of its ale, we walked in and straight out of places like the Hogshead and O'Neills.

The Coach House was amazing. The pint of Hobgoblin was the best drink we had had in Solihull town, sadly, despite nobody actually being in the place, everywhere was sectioned off for private parties - leaving us to stand at one of thouse circular high tables, like scouts around the camp fire.

The George Hotel (Ramada) must have seen me coming - the strange Staffs accent crying out that i was a country bumpkin in need of fleecing, and boy they did fleece me. No real ale, i shock my head at their offerings, until i made the mistake of saying they HAD Peroni in bottles - within micro-seconds, three bottles were opened at a cost of £11. All i could hear was Conrad saying 'muppet.... muppet.... muppet'

Somehow, JB and I ended up at the station - Mumfie disappeared into the night. We conversed during our return journey and agreed, going to Solihull town was the worst decision since JFK said 'let's take the convertible, i need the air'. However, according to Newton and this thought keeps me going...... 'for every Solihull:moremad:, there will be a Bridgnorth:notworthy:'