While Pixie and Sparkly were out and about in Worcester doing something doubtless involving handbags or lady's clothing, Peter and I took ourselves off to the 'Farrier's' in Fish Street. There we drank, or is it quaffed, a superb real ale named Hobgoblin. My, was it a cracking pint! Rich, nutty with a mouth warming sweetness and a sizzling slice of hoppiness. Served at a perfect, just below, room temperture. Coolers? Frosted glasses? On your bikes! This was the drink for men, not your namby-pamby, ice-cold, foreign muck.
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