day1

drink1
These pints look great but that didn't last long. They quickly became flat. My own more so than Shalliday's. This became a recurring theme which he gleefully attributed to "acid". Tasted ok though if a little chewy for the time of day. We sat in the beer garden amongst the crusties and alcoholics, sipped our pints and talked about the olden times. Then we left. Strangely enough neither the name of the pub or the type of beer is available to my brain at this remove.
(Slug and Lettuce the map suggests)

drink2
Into the Westgate pub. Verging on the superpub but good range of ales and ciders. In fact Shalliday spotted a "Cider Festival" sign outside and our fate was sealed. The barmaid was Scottish but spoke in a broad Somerset accent. Except when she was speaking to us. She reverted to her native Falkirk dialect for our benefit. She let us taste a few ciders. Sadly all around the 7 percent abv mark. We chose the one that tasted least like cheese. A Perry. Then we sat down. This is our hero making a strange face for the camera. Heaven knows why.

drink3
Controversially (and at my partner's insistence), we remain in the Westgate for more cider. He chooses some sort of Scrumpy now. God only knows what strength. Soon we start to feel a little strange. We discuss early onset drunkenness. Early onset bed seems like a distinct possibility at this rate. I use all my ice and Shalliday heroically uses only one block. This backfires on me spectacularly as the addition of more ice simply leaves me with more cider. You learn from these things and move on. So we did. Our hero literally fell out the door of the pub but made me delete the picture.

drink4
Into the excellent Coeur De Lion for more "lionhearted" drinking next. As you can see there was some early onset crisps on offer. And two pints of mild to settle the nerves. A really nice pub this although, the mid-afternoon sun seemed to shine more light on our fellow drinkers than was strictly necessary. To a man (yes, all men) they seemed to be suffering from severely impaired motor skills. Impaired by years of strong drink we concluded.
As you might imagine, our thoughts were now turning towards a beer garden. And cigars...

drink5
...and indeed pork scratchings. Boaters on Pulteney Bridge. As I entered this beer garden I overheard a young girl apparently seeking clarification from her boss. "So let me get this clear, am I fired or not?", she was asking. At the end of the call it seemed that no firm conclusion had been reached on the matter.
Two pints of Gem and two cubans to take the edge off the alcohol. Quickly my pint became flat whilst Shalliday's remained stellar (not Stella). "Acid", he explained.

drink6
Took our stogies for a walk and ended up here. In The Barley Mow. The barman (who himself seemed pished) offered us "one of each". "If you don't like 'em", he added, "bring 'em back".
As you might be able to guess from the picture we liked neither but said nothing. No idea what kind of beer we had. But more pork scratchings. May The Lord Preserve And Keep Us.

drink7
The eyes have it.
Two pints of Landlord at the Pultney Arms. Shalliday quite taken with this pub largely because they displayed their back snack menu on a white board. Sadly no pics.
Total wanker outside showing off his tosser mobile. Attractive woman with bruised legs dumping her kids for the weekend with estranged husband who was supping beer outside the pub. Total bastards all. Perhaps, we conclude, that second cider was a mistake. Time for food...

drink8
For many humans, a visit to an Indian restaurant during an all day drinking session, can be an opportunity to ease off on the drink. Allow some unhindered soakage to take place.
Shalliday, on the other hand, refuses to even consider eating before a gentlemanly, palate-cleansing G&T. Twas ever this.

drink9
By trying not to cause any issue I managed to cause the biggest issue of the weekend. Here's what happened. I was happy enough to have a few veggie dishes so I let Shalliday choose a meat dish for us to share. He chose a Chicken Pasanda (I know) which tasted more like a pudding than a main. He also chose a bottle Pinot Grigio which, charitably, could be described as "medium". I took only a small amount of chicken and told him that, if anything, it was "too nice" and that he should have the rest. He got a bit cross at this point and there was a small amount of unpleasantness. This happens from time to time and you just have to ride it out. His first words to me the following morning were concerning the chicken incident. It had kept him awake all night the poor love. Anyway, here we are drinking some sweet white wine out of (very appropriate) 1970's style glasses. Ching, ching.

drink10
Next to The Bell Inn, an odd but endearing pub that often has live music. Tonight the mood was more sedate and we had a whiskies and tried to focus on the newspaper and Scotland's great election victory. Dalwhinnie with a chaser of green beer. Sweet Alex Salmond!

drink11
The Old Green Tree next. A fine old pub. Pints of something and nips of something. The details are lost to me. The whisky was certainly improving my partner's mood and no recent mentions of the "Pasanda Fiasco". At one point I was wearing a tie the barman let me borrow. Difficult to say why. Almost unbelievably we were only the 2nd and 3rd most drunk Scottish people in this pub. Some cheuchter bampot.

drink12
Two rather elegant looking malts. Er, literally no further details...

drink13
The Raven now. A great pub which probably serves the best beer in Bath. But we were lost to beer now. Two Bowmore's. £8. Shalliday's round. Chortle.

drink14-15
To The Bear now - a gastropub near our B&B. We had nips and half pints here is all I know. No pics I'm afraid. Shalliday also had a pickled egg. Pic above I'm afraid.

END OF DAY 1