Oasis

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Went up to The Stretton Fox at Junction 10 of the M56 to rendezvous with Jane and Kev after her Lancashire visit this week. We always time it so the that bar is open for a quick pint on the turnaround, and I usually opt for Wainright's or Timothy Taylor's, depending on availability. But as soon as I walked into the place my eye was immediately drawn to an oval pump-plaque with a prominent red triangle on it. Bass. Decision automatic. Beer in top nick. Could have stayed on for more, but the drive home beckoned, so just the one it was. There was a time when Bass was ubiquitously available around here, but not any more. I've written about the paucity and variability of supply of the amber nectar in these parts before. It's a crying shame to have to limit myself to two pubs locally - one in Caernarfon, one in Biwmaris, both over ten miles from home, to get a pint of the stuff; let alone to have to drive nearly a hundred miles to Warrington on the off-chance it will be the Fox's guest beer of the month. Add in the three-out-of-seven-day availability at The Bull, and the only chance of a genuine, ad hoc, drop-in pint of the golden ale rests solely with The Black Boy in Caernarfon. It's annoying - nay, tragic - but at least the stuff is still around, if a little thin on the ground on my turf...

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