DNF, Day 52 – The Wellington

The final stop on our pub crawl with Pete from Sheffield Ale Pubs.

By Andy

By this stage, I was struggling.

It was our sixth pub in quick succession, and our 11am start time meant I hadn't eaten a thing since my Corn Flakes.

That's not to say it was all the fault of my poor preparation.

You see, dear reader: I suspected foul play.

In the Sheffield pub-blogging world, we were the plucky underdogs. We had been to a mere 143 pubs, while Pete had visited a mammoth 204. It was clear he didn't want anyone moving in on his patch.

He excelled at giving off the nice-guy image – striking up delightful conversations and cracking jokes along the way.

However, his true motives became clear at Shakespeares when – as it was his round – he 'kindly' purchased us a 7% beer, while opting for a 3.8% drink himself.

The technicalities of which beer we asked for are neither here nor there.

Deep down he must have known it would show us up to be pathetic little upstarts in the pub-blogging world, and yet he chose to buy it us anyway. A bit of gamesmanship there, I think. 

I had already been through my 'talkative' drunk stage at The Bar Stewards, and had now progressed to my 'sit in the corner and try not to vomit' stage. The conversation completely passed me by as I steadily rocked back and forth, desperately concentrating on anything but the sickening churn of my overworked stomach.

Rob was also drunk, but holding it together better than me (he must have had a bigger bowl of Corn Flakes). Pete, on the other hand, seemed stone-cold sober, and could probably have set a new lap-record around Monaco.

The pub seemed a pleasant, old-fashioned boozer – not the biggest but with ample corners to sit with your mates. The beer selection was decent (if a little reliant on one brewery), and the place felt like somewhere you could proudly call your local.

I'm not sure who bought it, but I ended up with a pint of Apex in front of me (by Neepsend Brewery). I didn't like it, but then again by this stage my body would have rebelled against anything.

I watched Rob and Pete speak, and tried to remember how conversations work. What do I do again? I think I'm meant to open my mouth and make sounds.

“Blahf-bloo-bla,” I contributed.

At some point, my nonsensical noises must have put Pete off, as he made his excuses and left. Both him and Rob had finished their pints long ago, leaving me tightly gripping my (completely full) vessel.

Rob tried to motivate me: “If you don't drink this, we'll have to come back!” – but it was no use, the room was spinning.

For only the second time on Pubquest, we failed to finish our drinks. (Both times I was the guilty party.) The rules being as they were, we couldn't count this as a visit.

On the tram back to the train station I thought I was going to throw up – my head was pounding and the floor was swaying. I managed to fight it off, and was moderately proud of myself for not being sick all over the seats. I devoured a sandwich at the train station, and reminisced over the day – a fantastic drinking session with both an old friend and a new friend.

On the train home I was sick three times. All over the seats. I had to tweet CrossCountry Trains to apologise.

Pub: The Wellington (1 Henry Street, S3 7EQ)

Rating: DNF

Pint: DNF

NEXT UP: Take two, at The Wellington...