Blue Badgers at the Fleece

There have, to my inebriated mind, only been two times in my adult life when the landlord of a pub has cautioned me as to the strength of his beverages. Once was in the Coronation tap in Bristol, where they only serve half pints of their cider to unwitting outlanders and where once by seven thirty I had lost control of my knees. The other was this evening, where he warned me but yet still poured pints of the stuff into my glass... However, that is tantamount of being no more than a subtext to the excellent evening Janet and I had at the Fleece in Hillesley, where Rory's dad controlled the beat with both cajon box and djembe, and bluegrass folk and assorted wonderments took place, in quite a small venue that allowed me only to dance gently with the lovely enthusiastic and, well, enthusiastic lady in riding trousers... did I mention the beer? Bristol Beer Company “Bristol Export” and 5.8% apparently, and that only take hold after the fourth pint. Up til then it alls seems so cosy and wobble...