It’s been ten years since the last edition of the ‘Walkin’’ subseries. Ten years. It might surprise you to learn, but walking has been done between then and now, sometimes, a lot, not often reflected upon.
Last year, The European and I visited Snowdonia. Having tried and failed to summit Snowdon because his nibs forgot his hiking shoes and vainly attempted the rain-sodden slopes in a pair of balding Converse the same age as the gap between this post and Chapter Nine, the significantly easier Pen y Fan in Bannau Brycheiniog was somewhat of a redemption. Luckily, we managed it, and then some; in fact, we were eager to go again. Ironically, we found the task of finding a pub harder than the 860m hike. The cute ones we found had no parking and the one that did was suitably picturesque but had a food menu so dire we decided to have one drink and leave. Bizarrely, for a pub in a national park, it completely shuts from three until six in the afternoon, which for us, was a closing time a little over an hour after we arrived. On a Saturday.
We decided to quit while we were behind and head home, via Hereford, as we’d never been there before. We weren’t exactly wowed – in my humble opinion this cathedral city isn’t anything like Gloucester or Worcester – but while we were there, we did manage to find exactly the kind of place that could scratch the post-mountain itch for beers and stodge.
Down by the River Wye, there’s a large, open-air bastion of conviviality called The Left Bank Village. I don’t think I have ever been to quite a place like it. Dotted around a central beer garden, there are various food stalls and standalone restaurants, all of which which serve communal seating outside. Imagine a place like Giant Robot, market halls or Seven Dials Market but a little less um… connected, but still connected. I don’t know, I can’t explain it. It’s best to just go and experience it for yourself.
We took a seat in the beer garden but the Seasick Steve-esque singer was so loud we couldn’t hear ourselves think. We glanced upwards and found Charles’ Bar overlooking the action. With a free table on their terrace overlooking the Wye and giving us a good view of the awesome singer, but at appropriate earshot, we rested our weary legs.
Charles’ Bar seemed to be connected to De Koffie Pot, a restaurant on the other side of The Left Bank Village, as both our drinks and food appeared to have been brought from that direction. We sunk our faces into our I.P.As, and all was well. As it was in Bannau Brycheiniog earlier, the weather was overcast and spitting rain, but we were more than fine.
The predictable food menu was exactly what the doctor ordered. My loaded burger was indeed loaded, reasonably well-cooked and extremely tasty, the heaps of pulled pork covering the patties being the icing on the cake. Scoffing it with the accompanying typical pub fries, I was a very happy bunny. The European was less sure about her truffle mac ‘n’ cheese with bacon. It was under-seasoned and bland, the bacon being its only redeeming feature. With hardly any truffle to taste, she liberally dusted it with salt and pepper in much the same way as when I attempt to cook pasta for the both of us.
Despite mixed reviews, the meal left us replete, a textbook example of where food doesn’t have to be embellished or well executed in any way, so long as it’s served in the right context. It was cheap, and very cheerful. As we ate it, the clouds broke, just as they did the moment we summited Pen y Fan and parked on a grass knoll to eat a sandwich and some trail mix.
Visited on 26th August 2023.
Two beers and two main courses came to £forty.
The food thing. 
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