We've half an hour to wait for our train to Bamberg. Happily the pub next to the station is open. Time for a BB - Breakfast Beer. Don't you just love pubs that open at 10 am? I know I do.
The landlord is having breakfast, but is happy to pull us a pint. Pull me a pint.
Löwenbräu Lagerbier - is it full of beery goodness or beerily good? I may need a second to be sure.
The pub is quite nice. Old-traditionalled with a soupcon of kitsch and a dollop of formica. And dead, dead handy for the station. One of my favourite features in a pub.
Schlenkerla, Bamberg 11:30
We're in the courtyard. Or Biergarten as it's rather grandly called by the owners. Mike and I discussed its status yesterday.
"It's more of a beer car park than a beer garden, Mike."
"But it's got trees. That makes it a garden."
"It has trees? I can't remember that. Are you sure?"
"It's got trees. For sure."
"The Amstelveenseweg [big main road close to where I live] has trees, but I wouldn't call that a garden."
"Don't be silly, Ron."
You tell me what you think. Garden or courtyard?
I'll admit that Mike is right about the trees. Almost. There's just the one. You can see a few of its leaves in the photo to the right.
But does one tree make a garden? Bit of philosophy there. I feel all Rab C. Nesbitt.
Garden or courtyard, it's cool here. Really nicely cool. To the point of drizzle. After the heat of the last few days, it's really cool.
Hang on. I need to try my beer. Been wasting my time chatting to you.
Scklenkerla Märzen - what the f*ck's this? I ordered a Märzen and they're brought me a dark beer. "Oi! Missus! I asked for an effing Märzen. What's this dark shit?"
Sorry. Couldn't resist.
Scklenkerla Märzen - Mmm, mm, mmm, mmmmmm. Mm. Baconly good of beeriness.
Frühschoppen. The menu suggests Rauchbier Märzen. Bacon beer with morning shopping? Yes, I think it could work.
I'm eating Weisswurst. The perfect breakfast. Lunch. Tea. Dinner. Supper. Just perfect.
Church bells are banging away like teenagers on meth. Like a techno track, but without the beat. Noise, basically. Now I listen harder, it sounds like the intro to Foxy Lady. "You make me wanna get up and a scream." Know the feeling, mate.
You know something? I need to get on with my food. And, let's face it, I won't be limiting myself to just one of these Märzens. Let me get back to you later. Tomorrow, say. When I'll have tales of Lederhosen and Lagerbier. That's if my prescience glasses are working right.
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