Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Pub 60, Day 24 – The Porter Cottage

By Rob

Emptying our glasses (and returning them to the bar, in accordance with Pubquest etiquette) we headed out into the glitz and glamour of the colloquially named 'Eccy' Road. For our guest Lucy, who'd just graduated from university and was now confronted with the hellish reality of adult life, it was important to have another drink. 

Under the guise of celebrating our friend's academic success, we strolled around the corner to The Porter Cottage (ten points to anybody who can spot the link to the previous pub). Lucy, now bearing witness to one of our famous multi-pub events, had to admit that being awarded a degree was only the second most exciting thing to have happened to her that day.

The Porter Cottage was a pleasant little pub: cosy and traditional, while still being firmly 'on trend'. The pub sported an excellent line-up of guest ales, an acclaimed alternative jukebox, and 'Beer Tapas' for anybody with a thirst for variety (three different ales, each a third of a pint, for the price of one drink). 

Given that Lucy had just finished three gruelling years of studying law, and bearing in mind that today represented one of the biggest achievements of her life, we agreed to each buy her a drink. It was my round and Lucy, wishing to celebrate her big day, asked for a glass of Prosecco. I gently explained to the cheeky little bitch that I wasn't made of money and that she could buy her own Prosecco when she started raking the money in as a lawyer, but that in the meantime she would need to make do with cheap beer like the rest of us. 

To that end, I ordered three pints of Wyld Wood cider. I honestly can't recall why, out of all of the various options available, I opted for a cider. Presumably it was just one of those weird, synaptic spasms that happens to people now and again, like when your whole body shudders for no discernible reason. As we've covered in previous posts, neither I nor Andy are big fans of the stuff. However, Wyld Wood was palatable (for a cider). I can't really say much more than that.

Unbeknownst to the staff at The Porter Cottage, they had the honour of hosting Pubquest's 60th visit. To celebrate ticking off another ten pubs, we decided to mark the occasion by inventing another great gimmick, which would go on to become a staple of future Pubquest adventures.

I am, of course, talking about the ingenious beer mat certificates!

The concept was stunningly simple. We would peel a beer mat, like bored toddlers at a Sunday carvery, and then write a congratulatory message on the newly pristine surface. Inevitably, the task fell to me, as Andy's handwriting hasn't really improved since about Year 8, while Lucy was ruled out on account of being a mere guest. Andy asked the perplexed barmaid for a pen and I went to work. I'm sure you'll all agree, the result was stunning.

I finished the certificate as we each drained our glasses. We dropped the empty vessels at the bar and headed for the door, while Andy approached the barmaid with his graffiti-ridden beer mat. 

Now, I was there for this bit, so I have my own opinions on how it transpired, but Andy is convinced that the scene played out like this:

The barmaid, who had spent the last few minutes wondering why Andy had asked her for a pen, watched the blonde man approach. In his hand, he held a note. Anticipation gripped her, as the young woman was convinced that this enigmatic stranger had written his phone number down on what appeared to be a little slip of paper and that, most exciting of all, he was about to hand it over. Her heart skipped a beat, while her eyes (and I am now going to quote Andy directly) "lit up with a look that only the promise of eternal happiness can bring". 

For Andy, who had a girlfriend, it was a bittersweet moment. He handed over the beer mat, then turned and walked away, unable to face the crushing disappointment that would be writ plain across her countenance, as she discovered that he had not, in fact, given her his number. As he left the pub, he thought he heard a sob, carried on the wind.

According to my own recollection, Andy walked up to the barmaid, who was hoping to get her pen back, and handed her a tatty, ripped beer mat that was covered in nonsense. As he walked away, she no doubt wondered what sort of grown man tears up beer mats and how, thanks to him, there was probably a pile of ripped paper sitting on his table that she would have to clean up.

Pub: The Porter Cottage (286 Sharrow Vale Road, S11 8ZL) 
Rating: 8.5/10
Brewery: Westons Cider (Much Marcle, Herefordshire)

NEXT UP: Jazz Night, at The Lescar...

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