If you missed Part One: Gosport Pubs, you can find it here.
After a pretty full on day yesterday, I made a conscious choice to take it easier today, to avoid the burnout that happened after two full days on the lash in Clee and Lincoln a couple of months back. That said, I had seven pubs on my itinerary for today…
I’d had a good night’s sleep and woke up feeling refreshed and relaxed. I decided not to do the Premier Inn breakfast and, besides, Goport was SO yesterday. Today was all about Southsea, so let’s get over there.
As I emerged from the Premier Inn, I consulted Google Maps, which told me there was a bus to the ferry due shortly. As I emerged onto the main road, I could see the bus idling at the bus stop. I started to run, hoping the driver would guess I wanted his bus, as I was approaching from the front and he could clearly see me. I maintained my pace whilst double-checking the time. Yes, I still had a minute before the bus was actually due. Within seconds of me getting there, the driver indicated to pull away. I stuck my arm out (at the same time thinking ‘fuck off you twat’) and thankfully he stopped indicating and opened the doors to let me on. As I boarded and dug out my £2 fare, I made a little joke with him and was met with a blank stare. Perhaps he had somewhere to be?
I dug out my book to read on the half-hour bus journey but found I only had a few pages left so that didn’t last long. Instead, I gazed out of the window and spotted a lot of the pubs that we’d visited last night, as well as restaurants I’d wished I’d visited. I hopped off the bus at the ferry terminal and was soon on a ferry back over the other side to continue my explorations.
Dorchester Arms (1975 Good Beer Guide Entry)
My first mission was…well, a pub. You may or may not remember the hunt for the 1975 Good Beer Guide pubs that I appear to have become embroiled in on a recent trip to Wigan. Anyway, basically Sarah almost died when hunting down a 1975 pub in Plymouth back in September, ‘going through places that NOBODY would ever want to go to’ on ‘a TERRIFYING wild goose trail.’ This is relevant here because this pub that Sarah had been looking for was actually in Portsmouth. And she was in Plymouth. I fucking LOVED that story, hence immortalising it here. But I also felt I owed Sarah (and Philippa, whose mission this is) a ‘tick’, hunting down the actual pub. The fact that I was actually in Portsmouth set me at a distinct advantage to Sarah.
The Dorchester Arms isn’t a pub any more and I wasn’t EXACTLY sure where it was, but I found the general area on Google Maps and figured I’d wing it when I got there. It was a 35 minute walk up to Market Way from the ferry and I swished through the autumn leaves and ruminated over that blank stare from the bus driver. This hadn’t been the first blank stare I’d experienced when making a little joke with someone since arriving in Portsmouth. I’d had the same when buying a bottle of water at the ferry station/terminus/whatever yesterday. Was this a Southern thing? Or perhaps they didn’t understand my accent? After all, I hadn’t understood Marcus when I first met him (see #carskgate here).
Anyway, I arrived at the general area of the former pub and, after much deliberation, guessed that this was probably it.
I wasn’t 100% sure at the time but, having looked at pics of the pub here, I can see that the windows and chimney match so I make that a result. I felt like I’d really achieved something today already and I’d not even had my breakfast yet. There’s a buzz to be had from this pub ticking but I WILL NOT BECOME A PUB TICKER I WILL NOT BECOME A PUB TICKER.
It was almost noon by now and my tummy was rumbling. I’d missed the cut off for breakfast at Southsea Beach Cafe (where I’d have been torn between the French Toast and Black Pudding Hash) – and Google Maps confirmed it was a further 30 minute walk to my pub of choice for lunch. I thought ‘fuck that, my feet hurt’ and tootled off into town to find a bus.
There was quite the queue for the bus but it soon arrived. On boarding, I handed my £2 fare to the driver and was met with a blank stare.
‘You can’t just give me £2.’
I returned the blank stare.
‘Well, where are you going?’
‘Oh I thought it was £2 everywhere?’
‘It is. But I need to know what zone you’re going to.’
Well I didn’t bloody know, did I? I was only here on my hollibobs. I hadn’t realised I needed to read ‘Portsmouth Bus Zones’ by Blank Starer, otherwise I’d have ordered a copy from the library.
‘The Vaults pub.’
He continued to look at me blankly. For fuck’s sake. I NEVER get asked where I’m going. It doesn’t fucking MATTER where I’m going. It’s £2. Nationally. It’s a simple system and that’s what makes it beautiful. Just take my fucking money. There’s a huge queue forming behind me here. I referred back to Google Maps.
‘Kings Theatre?’
That did the trick and I finally got my ticket with a harrumph. I was a bit angry now. Hangry, probably. Food would help. And beer.
The Vaults
The beer at the craft bar was VERY exciting but (a) not for breakfast; and (b) there was no-one manning this bar, so I headed for the main bar in the room on the left.
I knew they served food here but I couldn’t see a menu on their website so I had emailed them whilst researching my trip (but not the bus zones) earlier in the week. They got bonus points for emailing me back quickly with a copy of the menu. Phew! It wasn’t just pizza. When I asked for a menu in person today, I was handed two copies (but there’s only me!). As I mulled over the menu – still waiting at the bar and keen to get my order in before I sat down, trying to make a little joke with the barmaid – I was told I was welcome to take it back to my table and come back when I’d decided.
The chilli (which I’d wanted) wasn’t on, hence my delay, but I eventually opted for the Black Cab ham, egg and chips. I didn’t know what Black Cab ham was but it sounded fancy.
I wasn’t ready for leaving after this and, in the meantime, had observed a group of men ordering from the exciting crafty bar, so I decided to do the same. I ordered the Werewolf Hell-O-Ween pumpkin spice beer and it was fucking LUSH. Whilst over there, I found this list with ALL THE BEERS on.
There was a lot to look at in this pub and I’ll be back later to show you more but meanwhile…
Not to leave without the obligatory Loo Review.
Right. Now to check into my pad for the night. You know how in Part One, I explained that I consult the map and then head off and sometimes don’t notice for ages that I’m heading in the wrong direction? Yeah, that. At a point when I’d already done ALL the walking. At least I saw some interesting stuff not on the way.
AirBNB
At length I arrived at my AirBNB and successfully undertook my quest to locate the key and access my room. I quickly unpacked and decided to have a bit of a lie down to recover and then Chris rang. You haven’t met Chris, yet, dear reader, but he’s a fellow Seasider who I used to travel with to Blackpool games (and go on pre match GBG pub crawls) back in the 2000s. Anyway, I bumped into him when I was selling fanzines outside the ground the other week and I said we must catch up and it transpired we were both in Portsmouth this weekend so today was the designated day. I was keen to meet up sooner rather than later for fear of (a) falling asleep now and (b) flagging later so we agreed to rendezvous in 45 minutes time. As soon as I put the phone down I realised this left me all of about five minutes to go to the museum at the end of the road but I’d heard there was a dinosaur so I wasn’t missing out on that.
Cumberland House Natural History Museum
Of all the times to be greeted by a friendly, chatty person, this wouldn’t have been my preference.
‘Good afternoon. Have you been here before?’
‘No but I believe you’ve got a dinosaur.’
‘Oh we’ve got a dinosaur, all right. It’s through there. But I’d recommend you start by going out into the butterfly house and then you can just follow the arrows around the museum and they’ll take you through there and up there and at the end you’ll come out down here by the dinosaur. It’s a free museum but you’d like to give a donation there’s a box there.’
Dear reader, I practically ran around the museum. Mercifully it was only small. Here’s a whistle-stop tour with zero context because pub to get to.
Right. Time to scamper to the pub!
Hole In The Wall
I was first to arrive here so headed straight to the bar to consider the pump clips.
While I waited for Chris to arrive, I snapped this beermat to send to Karen because she’s ALWAYS going on about this beer.
As I hadn’t seen Chris properly in yonks, we spent some time catching up in here (hence the three drinks). As we chatted and drank, the small pub gradually filled up, precluding me from taking as many photos of the interior as I’d have liked. Note to self: take pics straight away if the pub is quiet, else you might lose your chance.
Then it was time for the short walk to the next pub. This wasn’t on my itinerary but I’d passed it en route to the HITW and Marcus had mentioned it yesterday as being worth a visit so fuck it why not?
HUIS – Belgian Bar & Kitchen
This place did not disappoint. In fact, we liked it so much, we stayed here for multiple drinks (well two) as well. Lots to show you here!
Right. Let’s consider the beer menu, shall we?
Right now it was time for scran. After last night’s disappointing curry – and the tantalising aromas emanating from the Indian restaurants on Gosport’s high street – I was determined to have a good one tonight. Happily my dining companions complied.
Spice Merchants
You’ll note I said companions plural there, dear reader. This was because MG was now in town. He’s another fellow Seasider who was down for tomorrow’s match. He and Chris didn’t know each other but we’re all Seasiders, aren’t we, so all was good. It turned out that they had friends in common (apart from me).
I’d briefly researched the menu online earlier today (as I hadn’t had much time), but I’d had enough time to spot something exciting on the menu and obvs I was having that.
We liked it here and I would recommend it to anyone visiting Portsmouth. There were also lots of other restaurants on the same street (Osborne Road) that looked appealing.
I was relieved when MG offered to give us a lift to the next pub as my feet were very tired of walking now. This was my second trip in an electric car in as many days and I’ll confess I’m still getting used to the sensation of heated seats, as it feels a bit like I’ve wet myself (not that I recall ever doing that, although I came close on the way home from a Chase match once, after two hurried post-match pints, when Mick took the route with ALL the speed bumps).
The Vaults (again)
Unless you’ve got a very short memory, aren’t paying attention or only look at the pictures like Martin, you’ll recall that this was where I went for lunch. Well it was a COMPLETELY different vibe here now. It had been slow and sleepy this aft but now it was buzzing and vibrant and RAMMED. I wanted to bring Chris here because it was a Good Beer Guide pub and he likes those. Also, that beer list…
Chris was starting to flag now but found his second wind and soldiered on to the next pub on the crawl.
The Merchant House
This place was busy, too, with a mixture of people of all ages.
I wasn’t feeling any of the above beer types, so I made further enquiries with the barman.
‘Have you got any dark beers on those taps at the back?’
‘Well we’ve got one…but it’s an imperial stout…and it’s 12.5%.’
‘Can I have a taste of that please? … Mmm that’s nice.’
‘It works out about £11 a pint…’
‘Can I have a third of that, please?’
What is it with these Hampshire barmen talking the little woman out of having a strong beer? You may recall that I was Fucking Fuming when this first happened to me in Southampton earlier in the year.
My OU studies encourage me to see things from both sides and I’m annoyingly well versed at this so don’t expect me to take your side in an argument, as I’ll end up trying to keep the peace and trying to get you to see the other side. Anyway, in defence of the barman, if it was the beer he didn’t want to sell – as opposed to not wanting to sell it to the little woman per se – then why stock it? A nice milk stout would have gone down a treat on that menu. We don’t all like IPAs. Anyway, next time I’d like to recover from my shock in time to actually ASK why I’m being talked out of buying a beer by someone who’s job it is to sell me beer – then I’ll have the answer.
To be fair, I couldn’t even finish the third, it was that chewy (see, I know the terminology and everything). After that three-course Indian (if you include the poppadoms), I think I’d have been sick if I’d finished this third, I was that full.
I realised I’d reached capacity now. Handily, this was also the nearest pub to my AirBNB. So Chris and I parted ways and hopefully it’s not quite as long before we enjoy our next GBG pub crawl.
Now it was time for another good night’s sleep before hitting a DINOSAUR THEMED BREWERY ahead of tomorrow’s match. Yes, I’d forgotten I was here for the football as well…
Next Up: A Football Tourist’s Guide to Portsmouth – Part Three: Portsmouth v Blackpool.
Blimey. First up, totally agree on buses. Hate buses, asking you where you’re going and stuff, and where you got on. Holding up the bus and stuff. And they cost a fortune.
Re your Pompey story. As a regular bus user I learned a long time ago not to engage with drivers beyond a cheery thank you ( apparently it makes them very happy), as I disembark, so I hope that gets them through their shift.
I noted the Carcassonne board game in one photo and as a 20 year part time resident of the French town I still have no idea what it is. Observant aren’t I ?
Great read as per.
Up the Blades
I didn’t thank that driver on principle but otherwise always do.
I will look out for Carcassone in future pubs and endeavour to find out!
It’s a tile-laying board game where you try to make cities, roads and the like. It needs a decent size table though. It’s a modern classic.
https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/822/carcassonne
I know generalisations are dangerous but…
I too have been greeted with blank stares or even outright hostility when trying to engage in casual or light-hearted conversation with people from Portsmouth. I thought it was just me.
I do resolve this in Part Three…