Aigburth

No less than three buses were necessary for a slow journey to get me to my first destination of today's survey - It would have been quicker to get a train into town and out again, I think. As I trundled through Garston on the third bus, an 82, I noted the Alexandra appeared shut, and the former Queens is now a restaurant. Along Garston's main street, however, the George, the Mariners and the Dealers are all still open, and ripe for a research trip soon.

I stayed on the bus until my first target, the Toby Carvery Aigburth. Here I found a standard Toby carvery, pretty empty at four on a Thursday. The plastic interior is nicely divided into drinking and dining areas. I selected Doom Bar from the choice of one real ale, but that's not a complaint - I'd rather see one pump serving quality ale than have a choice of six tired beers, and the "boring brown bitter" was spot on. There were a few other drinkers in, watching a quiz on the TV and/or listening to the piped music. Irritatingly, from my seat both were equally audible.

Aigburth Road used to be famous for having no pubs at all until you reached Garston, but that's certainly no longer true, and a few more stops on the same 82 route brought me to the Old Bank, my 1,200th Merseyside pub.

Located in an impressive old building is a smaller than expected one room pub. Somehow it gave the impression of a keg-only boozer but it certainly isn't, and three handpumps at the end of the bar were dispensing three "uncommon" ales, and the one I tried was perfect.
The high ceilinged room was rather echoey, magnifying the chit-chat of the regulars, most of who were sitting at the bar. It's hard to make out the decor here, I'm assuming the carved woodwork such as the columns supporting the gantry above the bar is all salvaged from elsewhere, but I wonder if some is from the bank - the arches have a double keystone motif.

Back on the 82 again for another few stops, taking me to the food and drink centre that is Lark Lane. I walked past about nine bars of various sorts, and umpteen cafes and restaurants, to reach Que Pasa Cantina at the far end of the road. This used to be a "South American" restaurant, hence the name, but they seem to have given up food and now it's a busy popular bar, one of the ones in the Good Beer Guide that I hadn't visited (until today).
Inside, bare brick walls and wooden floor make for a lot of noise, while the barmaid worked hard behind the tiny counter to keep the many customers served. Only room for two handpumps, I had a splendid pint of someone's pale ale.
A number of people came in carrying bikes which they took through to somewhere in the back, and then one of them emerged carrying a back wheel - he wandered around the room a bit and then disappeared again. I'm not sure lycra shorts are suitable attire for a visit to the pub, but anyone who knows me will confirm that I'm hardly in a position to give fashion tips!

So, time to choose one more Lark Lane place that I've never done before. whatpub.com showed real ale at Love and Rockets.  A youth oriented pizza place, it nonetheless has a number of handpumps amongst the twenty keg taps offering a wide range of craft ales, and my pint of WPA from the very local Big Bog Brewery was OK, although a little on the warm side. The white-painted bare brick walls and wooden floor contrived to make the place very noisy, although there was hardly anyone in the place. The smokers' area out front was, by contrast, packed.
Those pretend antique lightbulbs look especially naff if you never dust them and while I'm having a moan, I don't like menus with prices like "8.5", it should say £8.50. I have previously described this as an ugly affectation.
A steady trickle of customers was heading for the back room, and I was invited to join them for the quiz, but decided it was time to be making my way home. I could just hear them starting as I left.
I suppose I'll have to get used to being the oldest person in the pub, it's going to happen more and more often.

A short stroll got me to St Michaels station for my journey home via Liverpool. Annoyingly, I got to Lime Street just after a train left, so my homeward journey was just as slow as the outward one.