Have i ever mentioned that there's no better smell than that of burning wood in a real fire (reminds me of bothying in the Scottish highlands). So to find a boozer in Digbeth's backstreets that had an open hearth full of crackling pallets was just heaven. I'd tell you where this paradise is but the picture would probably be used as evidence and i'd be labelled as Brums Smokeless Zone nark weasel!.
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