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Our pints of Adnams were excellent and very well-kept. It's obvious why there are so many awards displayed: you can get a great pint here. I took an extremely short exploratory journey down the tiny corridor to the back Smoke Room, which is nearly as tiny as the front room. And both rooms have fires and no music, making them wonderfully cosy. There's even a good spot in the corner for curling up with a pint and a good book if you're so inclined. Or perhaps some knitting, which is suddenly becoming very popular, probably because of the Extreme version where people knit and purl while parachuting and the like -- which may have grown out of the sport of Extreme Ironing. But please, one word of advice: because of the extreme lack of space at the Blue Bell I'd recommend leaving your ironing at home.
After our enjoyable city centre pub crawl we had a nice Italian meal and then caught a taxi back to the Old Grey Mare, a 17th century coaching inn close to York City's football ground, where we had booked our room for the night. We sat in the front bar and ordered pints of Theakstons Cool Cask (4.2% ABV, T.R. Theakston Ltd., Ripon, North Yorkshire). Unfortunately, after our big meal, these pints were a bit sweet, so I convinced myself to have patience and to try to ease slowly into this different taste. We'd entered the pub right smack in the middle of a quiz, so we played along by ourselves and realised, after scoring 22 out of 30, we would have lost it anyway (the winners scored 25). By the time the quiz was over I realised I didn't have the strength to persevere with my pint: the Theakstons was simply too treacly for my already indulged stomach. So we moved back into the pool room and drank overpriced shots of Bushmills. As Andrew played pool with the rather possessive young locals I played 5 songs on the jukebox, including the somewhat relevant "People Are Strange" and "Should I Stay Or Should I Go?". When the pub shut we retreated to our tiny room for the night, sleeping on what felt like a linen-covered grilling rack. I have to admit I've never slept on such a lumpy, spring-protruding mattress in my entire life. Fortunately after my years down south, curling my torso each night around the sproinged springs of an antique mattress, I've become expert at positioning myself just right so that I was able to get to sleep. One thing I have to say for the room: at least there were none of those typical cranked-up radiators blasting away and the window opened easily, so my sinuses were happy for the fresh air.
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