R*n 474: Lancaster

This was it, folks - the big day had finally arrived. A golden opportunity for LVH3 to redeem itself. A chance to prove that we really could organise a p*ss-up in a brewery. On our last visit here, of course, due to what on "The Fall & Rise Of Reginald Perrin" would be referred to as "a c*ck-up on the catering front, we singularly failed to pull it off and had to adjourn to other licensed premises for our liquid and solid refreshment. It was a black day in the history of our organisation.

I remember that, as GM, I was particularly miffed by the fact that we had been displaced by, of all things, a christening party. For me, this was a humiliating snub, as I had several christenings of my own to perform that day - Four Candles, Shortcutter, and Footloose, if my memory serves me well - and I had not been asked to officiate! The miserable so-and-sos had probably gone to a church or some similar establishment, when I could have done just as good a job in the car park with my bottle of tap water. It's a mystery to me why some parents still insist on choosing their own name for their baby, but hey ho.

So, it was now incumbent upon Baldbrick to do what Cyberseptic had singularly failed to do, and get us into the Brewery, and - SUCCESS! Mind you, there were a few minor hiccups along the way. That world-renowned expert on all matters beer-related White Noise was quite adamant that her glass of Lancaster Blonde was more, well, brunette, despite the barman swearing an oath on the holy book that the correct beverage had been served. Also, not everyone got the meal they ordered, but I've always found democracy and freedom of choice to be vastly overrated - eat what you're damn well given, that's what I say! What we had, though, was nourishing and cheap, so we weren't too bothered!

The r*n? Well, I've often complained in the past that some hares don't do enough to prepare the trail to an acceptable standard - soaking up puddles with a squeegee mop, shovelling away the shiggy, changing the weather, that kind of thing; you certainly couldn't accuse Baldbrick of that! Not only had the lad cleared all the sheep, cows and bulls from the theatre of operation, he had actually built roads, pavements, bridges and flights of steps for us to use! He had also, most thoughtfully, put lampposts along the route just in case anyone (Highway?) got lost and came in after dark! He even built a proper brick loo for Morticia to use (17 minutes into the r*n, for those of you collecting statistics). Such dedication to detail is rarely seen - well done Baldbrick!

Another couple of christenings to end the proceedings - what is it about this place? - so welcome to the LVH3 family HMS Twiggy and Fit Fanny. With so many namings and visitors (do come again, folks!), my brain is beginning to hurt, so excuse me while I go and have a little lie down....

On on to Glasson Dock on the 19th!

STT.