The Bag of Nails, Bristol

I’ve had a few days away, visiting a friend who lives in Weston Super Mare. As the train goes through Bristol, we met there and went to our favourite pub, the Bag of Nails. It’s a tiny real-ale pub (by tiny, I mean if a dozen people are in there, it’s heaving!), which has a number of cats living there. It’s their home, it’s not like a cat cafe or somewhere trying to rehome cats. Most of them are either black or tabby, like Absinthe here, distressing a box…

but one stands out – Wolfgang (who I keep calling Mozart, for some reason!), whose mother is a tabby and whose father is a random Siamese. When we first saw him, he was around three months old and much lighter in colour than he is now. Those eyes, though… he is handsome and he is fully aware of it!

If you’re ever in Bristol, go visit the Bag of Nails; it’s a lovely, friendly little pub (no children allowed, though – or dogs, for obvious reasons – and take cash as they don’t accept credit cards), fuss the cats, listen to records and play with the various games scattered liberally around the place!

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