Back in February I travelled up to Carlisle to attend an event at The Brickyard.
Having been through but never to Carlisle, my plan was to roam around, look for a suitable boozer, have a couple of drinks and ask the bar staff where to go.
Spotting a reasonable looking target on the high street, I entered and commenced phase 1 of my plan, which tasted lovely.
A couple of jars and some decent people-watching later and I’m read to roll. Being the housetrained pub patron that I am, I returned my glass to the bar and asked the staff how to get to The Brickyard.
Before any espousing of local knowledge on their part, a fellow next to me chimed in, in a very much ‘not from round ere’ accent.
“I can tell you how to get there, mate” he confidently claimed, before adding with enthusiasm, “In fact, I’ll draw you a map”.
I watched as he spent at least two minutes drawing the schematic here attached, and though he didn’t include any indication of scale, his accompanying commentary was surely going to be enough to get me to my destination.
“So, you walk along the main street up there…”
Points to the first pair of parallel lines he’s just scrawled on the paper.
“Now, don’t go up here…”
Adds a further pair of lines denoting an incorrect road.
“…or you’ll be well off track. You need to go left of this pub…”
Draws a circle
“…I forget the name, but you can’t miss it, there’s another pub opposite.”
A second circle appears.
“Go between those pubs and the Brickyard is on the left”
I took the paper and left, aiming in the direction he indicated.
Fifty yards up the street, I asked someone else, then turned around and went in the right direction, woefully dismayed at the state of modern cartography.
by Josefus Haze