Nellies...

To Beverley, for a 'leaving' drink with one of the newspaper people and several other newspaper people and two other ex-newspaper people. The leaving newspaper person is setting up shop down in Cheltenham and bids the town farewell this weekend, so he'd opted to spend his final night in our wonderful company by heading to the darkest pub he could think of - Nellies - where, in the gaslit room to the left, he wouldn't be able to see our faces and, thus, our tears would go unnoticed. Nellies is a great old rabbit warren of a drinking hole. Indeed, as I unfathomably turned up before everyone else, I wandered through its dark dank corridors and inspected each pokey, fusty, nicotine-coated corner of the place. It's so dark that when you first walk in your eyes can't readjust fast enough and you end up walking straight into a regular. As the night wore on I was told off by current landlady Annie (she officially has no surname) for attempting to play a tune on a tin tray. I got off lightly - I was thrown out once for repeatedly singing old blues songs whilst a mate of mine bashed out 12 bar boogie woogie on the piano. It seems they like their peace and quiet in Beverley. Nice pub, though, when I'm not in it. You should go if you get the chance. Or take this virtual tour.