I want to run into the kitchen and beg the cook to tell me her secret. Maybe she’s a Black Country witch.
This one goes out to the one I love…
I often wonder about that poor Black Country wench who’s annoyed that her freezer is still broken!
A fairy tale of gin, beer and dancing Mr Darcy.
Well that’s if Elizabeth Bennett had a penchant for beer and scratchings, and managed to pull the drunkest person in the Black Country that is.
Who broke my heart in Brierley Hill?
So who broke my heart on Saturday night? Well it wasn’t the Dudley Beer Festival. Or the Dog & Partridge.
Green door, what’s that secret you’re keeping?
I’d like to feel the same about us Green Duck. The beginning of a long-lasting relationship between wench and brewery. Only this time there’s no need for a hand up the bum or a sad song.
Not enough Old Bush
I was only disappointed with the lack of old bush, but there’s always another night.
Saturday slacker stumped in Sedgley and seduced by Sadler’s
Don’t judge us. You know you would too.
Ambling around Amblecote: a tale of two streets
I have to admit I did stroke a number of the velour chairs while no one was looking.
Dame Barbara Cartland, I never thought I’d see you in a Halesowen boozer
It’s really hard for Black Country pubs to improve on perfection, but serving bread and butter pudding is a noble effort.
Black (Country) Friday: post election pints
Shouting ‘You can go your own way’ across the bar could be misconstrued as verbal abuse.
