23/06/24 - Trowbridge Pub Crawl

Why did the Romans call Bath, Bath?

Because it is next to the toilet that is Trowbridge.

This was the punchline to a joke found in my google inquiry as to why Wiltshire's County Town was so - how can I put it delicately? - grotty.

The architecture is similar to Bath. The maintenance isn't. This is a row of fine houses called the Parade, containing the blue plaqued home to the Great Grandmother of Queen Mary II and Queen Ann.

Architecture

Sunday is never the best day for pub ticking, but there are more street drinkers than pub customers. The Blind House - a windowless jail from the C18th - a particular favourite spot.

Maybe the best way to experience the town is from on-high.

Up, up and away

There's even an anomaly with the Good Beer Guide. The 2024 book has two entries. Yet the on-line database lists only one. Investigation required.

The Kings Arms is the pub that appears on both. A solid enough drinking pub, with a very pleasant beer garden with music piped in at just the correct volume. A freehouse, with Butcombe Original and Dartmoor Legend on cask.

The Pick of Trowbridge

I probably should have stayed longer, but needed food. The international gauge of Indian restaurants is the runniness of the mango chutney. Daz powder whites is going to have to earn its corn.

Euro's are on - so I catch the first half of Scotlands brave attempt to entertain nations with a stop off at a railway pub. The Rose and Crown goes as far as having a genuine electronic departures sign above the bar. Who knew you could get a direct train to Portsmouth from here? A plan is hatched but then instantly discounted for its own stupidity. All the football fans on EuroFizz and Cider and happily, I can report the Exmoor Gold was in good shape.

Railway Pub ahoy....

Stallards is the GBG anomaly, which I can only assume has been dropped. This is rather annoying, through the windows I can see a crowded bar, with the half time punditry on TV screens. Yet the door is firmly bolted, with the sign saying "Closed at 8pm". I am not even sure if the Dubious Ticks committee needs to be informed.

The one that got away

But I'm not giving up. The Greyhound has to be worth a go for the 2nd half. Cash only for transactions less than a fiver. The Stella is £4.80. Its one of those bonkers pubs that makes travel a joy. I can't say I have ever met a more friendly crowd. Or more pissed. Two men introduce themselves independently, shaking my hand and asking "why am I here?". That sounds more sinister than it should. New friend one sees I am interested in the football and tries to pal me up with the only punter focused on the game. New friend two is keen to help him win an argument about egg and spoon racing. The conversation could have flowed better but I needed Gerald from Clarkson's Farm as a translator.

A lot can happen in 45 minutes and I cannot be sure, but I think the youngest of the drinkers was trying to pair off his mother with a new step dad, of which there were two main suitors. Music and dancing was involved in a courtship ritual, the like of which I have not observed elsewhere.

"Make sure you tell the West Midlands about the Greyhound" shouted the friendly but bemused bar staff as I made my eventual exit.

I'll tell the world

I was keen to try the solid Wadworths house - The Lamb - spied as I entered the town for the first time earlier in the evening. A temporary kebab van outside is always a good sign of free enterprise in action.

Kebab van stopping me moving further backwards

Unsparkled 6X, an outside bench and a chance to ponder the eternal question of the vagabond.

Where next?