THE week had not begun well on the pub front. The original intention had been to find an alehouse in a picturesque setting, preferably selling real ale.

This was, as usual, tracked down by the Pub Column's faithful sniffer dog, Lady Penelope of Pensby.

She'd remembered a little backwater just down the road from her luxury mansion, or rather, two bedroomed flat. And it did, indeed, seem perfect. With the sun beaming down between leafy groves and nestling next to a village green it seemed to be the perfect boozer to have a leisurely sup before idling back to put the roasties and the roast in the oven.

The illusion was shattered by the ale itself. The pint of Black Sheep tasted like the sheep had been taking a dip in it and Lady P's gentile glass of Stella was as flat as a fluke.

The Litmus testing time to leave in pub terms is when you get served a Stella as lifeless as the Dead Sea especially when there's little change from a fiver.

Which is what we did.

Time therefore to visit a tried and trusted perennial to restore our faith in local hostelries.

It came later in the week at the Everyman Bistro on Hope Street. It's become a regular in the drinkers' Bible, the annual CAMRA Good Beer Guide, the latest edition proclaiming that it has become as much of an institution as the theatre which stands above it.

Personally, I've always liked it because it's the perfect place to people watch due to the huge range of different species who flock here.

If you were a scriptwriter this is the cosmo heart of Liverpool to mould the characters for, say, a budding sitcom. They're all here from students and academics to luvvies and streetwise Scousers.

Early evening is perhaps the best time to interlope when the Bistro is  buzzing with a pre performance crowd eager for their tea to be served up from the award-winning food bar, overseen by the nosh major domo, Paddy Byrne.