Last time Dave and I went to Holland, Nova Gough was away on business. This time she was there, however as events will prove, we only managed a full complement of four people on one evening. Once again, we elected to fly from Luton and as customary it is traditional to have a quick pint of Guinness from the Bar de Voyageurs in the airport terminal. It is a very formulaic airport bar, so not much else to say. I don't think we had any booze opportunities on the 'plane, so, once we had met Nova, dropped our stuff off, seen the flat, opined where a bar should be sited, and got back into town, it was high time for a beer at Rootz in Den Haag. This is an excellent bar and contains all the ingredients that make for a good score, and indeed so, as we achieved a record under the new marking system of 20¼. The website at www.rootz.nl does the pub full justice, but for those that can't be bothered to access this site, I will try to describe it. It is a dark, cosy place which is very busy and has lots of small wooden tables and chairs. Waitresses bring beer out, and there is an extensive array, both bottled and draught. Waitresses also bring out some quite interesting bar snack meatball type things that are listed on the very extensive beer menu on the wall.

We stayed in there for quite a while, as we were waiting for Simon, sampling all sorts of strong Dutch and Belgian ale. I became particularly fond of the Kasteel stuff which is about 11%. Next stop was at the packed Zwarte Ruiter on the market square. It was so busy inside that we had to sit outside in the rain, under a canopy near a pile of chunder, and drink up there. I popped over the road to another pub for a piss at the same time. The Zwarte Ruiter was another dark looking establishment, and there were a fair amount of beers available. Leopold turned out to be the final stop of the day and it was much quieter and though in the same kind of style of the previous two, it did have an air of trendiness. I am sure that we had some sort of inappropriate WWII conversation about Hitler etc, whilst getting progressively more pissed. Eventually it was time to knock it on the head, so we left. We commandeered a Mercedes taxi and sped back to the flat whereupon we all passed out.

A new month dawned, and Simon, Nova and I awoke early to perform some shopping in the local Spar. Dave Wacey had consumed far, far too much booze the previous day and was still in his sick bed when we returned. The plan for the day was to go out and about in Delft, and then make our way back to Den Haag for an evening of drinking. 'Perhaps Dave would join us at a later stage', we speculated. We had a very light limbering up during the afternoon, and spent much time looking at typically Dutch things in Delft. There were canals, a market selling all sorts of things including cheese and flowers, some tall people and a giant novelty clog in the town square (which had a church that was too tall to capture properly on camera). Simon and I posed stupidly in the clog. As you can imagine, this was thirsty work.

We made our first one a late luncheon stop in Stadscafe de Waag, which was quite an interesting pub with a mezzanine floor. This was light and airy and the interior was very brickwork like. The range however was good, and I opted for some Cine or similarly named local beer, though De Koninck, Grolsch, Gulpener Wit and Grimbergen were available. We could have stayed all day eating chips in chip sauce (mayonnaise) and drinking beer, but decided not to. Starting to make a move back, Locus Publicus was the next stop, a highly recommended bar. This one was quite basic, not swish at all, but had a very friendly atmosphere and an extensive beer menu, and we sat outside to take advantage of the last of the sun. The bar itself was quite small, long and thin, covered with posters. As a result, it scored a commanding 19¾ out of 25, reflecting its greatness on all levels. It was getting on a bit, and so we decided to leave Delft and get the tram in stages back to Den Haag. A stop was made at Rijswijk and the Cafe Witsenburch, a traditional Ditch drinking den with carpets on the table and some locals with whom we were not that easy with so we sat outside. We were not particularly easy with the toilets either. On reflection, the beer was actually not that bad and they had De Koninck and Wickse Witte on draught. Still no sign from Dave.

De Paas in Den Haag is one of the greatest bars that I have ever been to; so much so that it also scored 19¾ out of 25. They have a website at www.depaas.nl, which Dave will have to visit as he was still feeling wretched at about tea time on the Saturday. We found ourselves a large circular table and proceeded to study the menu, which contained many useful facts and figures. Pleasingly, they have a no-smoking, no mobile phones policy to allow the punter to sample the beer in peace. And as the picture shows, the selection of beer is quite astounding. There are lots of bits of paraphernalia round too, including a Yeltins glass, shaped like a boot. A very traditional place, with a quiet but excellent feel. Also of note was the 'wanker' toilet; a toilet with a wobbly seat, for wanke in Dutch means wobbly.

We met up with some of Nova's friends in the Mercure Metropol hotel bar. This was actually a very good and reasonably priced version, unlike the awful one in Budapest. It was noted that the marquetry (carved wooden panels) was excellent as we reclined in some comfortable chairs, and that free bar nibbles were available. There was not a huge amount of ale available at Berger, a pub that I think we stood outside of for quite a while, a few doors up from Leopold, perhaps next door, perhaps it was even Leopold, I forget such mediocre places. We had been to Boomers last year, complete with the tree in the middle of the drinking area which is still there. As last year it is a lively, vibrant bar with a moderate selection of drinkable beers on. We had Hoegaarden, and held a conversation with a pissed Scottish guy who was loosely associated with our party. Nova suddenly began to feel awful, so requested that we made haste back, which we did, this time by bus, alighting at the terminus just round the corner from their house where she prompty threw up all over the street, then splashed through puddles for the remainder of the way home.

On the Sunday morning, it was Nova's turn not to surface, whilst Dave having finally been able to accept solids at a late stage of the previous evening, was well up for some beer. I wasn't feeling overly enthusiastic, so a decision was made to visit Amsterdam for a leisurely day rather than go somewhere by international train. Amsterdam is an excellent place, with its fair share of sex shows. We were thinking of our stomachs however, and after having some Italian food and a wander around, elected to watch some Premiership action in the quite ordinary 'Remember' pub, which looked a little like a dire Irish bar. I did not have a particularly pleasant stay as I felt quite vile although fortunately, they only had Heineken, and so wasn't much bothered. A minor miracle happened in the Cafe Corso, a street corner pub with carpeted tables and not much beer that was also showing the football. When I went in I felt awful, but by the end of the game and two pints later, I had regained my appetite for beer.

This was just as well as the next pub was the outstanding Gollem which we luckily stumbled across and stayed in for a swift three each. The record set on the Friday was broken and pushed to 20¾, as the pub was excellent, but in an even greater, quainter way, and was much more cosy and quiet. Illumination was by candle light, and the 200 plus bottled beers, as well as the dozen or so draught beers were listed on a blackboard menu all the way around the room. In the end, we mixed bottles with the outstanding Erdinger Dunkel beer. Dave couldn't quite get round all the occult beers as though Judas and Lucifer were in stock, Satan was not. The pictures below try to do the pub justice. After popping to the off licence across the road for some takeaways, we went back to the station via the red light district which had become quite busy. We also took the oppurtunity to visit La Vie en Rose, a side street titty bar, with topless barmaids, pole dancers taking turns to strut their stuff now and again and absurdly expensive Heineken.

Simon and Nova had to go to work the next day, but Dave and I did not, indeed revelling in the fact by watching some quite inconsequential football until the small hours. Time frittered itself away very well, but we did manage to slip a half in at the actually quite good Rembrant at Schipol airport which had a good selection of draughts on tap. And once we had alighted from the 'plane, we felt it churlish to let the opportunity to do the Rising Sun at the amusingly named Slip End pass us by, so we stopped for a half on the way back. Reasonable London Pride and not much else if I recall correctly. Another excellent weekend, though it was a shame that Nova and Dave barely got to speak to each other, such was the state of their beer induced sicknesses...