Lunches with my good friend, Terry, invariably involve copious liquid refreshment and this being the height of summer it's essential to stay properly hydrated.
We start off at Primitivo and wash down a very respectable piscine sharing-platter with a good bottle of white. Usually at this point we retire to The Wellington, Birmingham's finest real ale bar but today we choose to venture out into the Jewellery Quarter.
After a short, but pleasant walk we chance upon the Pig and Tail, a splendid bar come bistro refurbished very tastefully some three years ago. We're served by the friendly landlady who tells us a little of the history of the building whilst pouring us each a rather fine pint of the curiously named, 'Shin Digger'.
Suitably refreshed we set off again, this time to visit the famous Rose Villa Tavern, nestled in the heart of the Jewellery Quarter next to the historic clock. The Tavern is a Grade 2 listed building and boasts tiled walls, fantastic stained-glass windows and an old GPO telephone box by the door.
The beer is good and the decor is fine, but somehow it seems to lack the friendliness of the Pig and Tail. We drink up and move on.
At the start of our return leg we admire the many beautiful Victorian buildings dotted around the area. Even the abandoned factories have a certain faded charm all of their own.
Before crossing the bridge back to the city centre we stop off for a beer outside the Actress and Bishop on Ludgate Hill. Apart from the excellent live music hosted here on a daily basis, the pub is famous for being the site of the last public hanging in Birmingham.
Thankfully, the only rope we encounter is encircling the outside drinks area where we consume another welcome pint.
And so onward to the city. We spot a random pair of abandoned trousers on the bridge across Great Charles Street. Perhaps the uncommonly warm weather has tempted a passing pedestrian to cast caution to the wind and unleash his whitened nether-regions on the unsuspecting public for an impromptu mid-bridge sunbathing session.
Safe on the city side things turn more serious. Waves of office-workers stream past us, freshly released from their air-conditioned pens. The vast majority are on their mobile phones, oblivious to our presence and indeed much, if not all, of their immediate environs. Smiles seem hard to come by.
The penultimate stop on our alcohol fueled tour of Birmingham's best is the chilled basement of the Post Office Vaults, a hidden jewel in the crown.
Terry eschews the extensive bottled beer menu and calls for two Trappiste ales of mind-blowing potency.
Terry's train is almost due at the station but there's still time for one last pint before we slur our farewells. We take it in quiet side room at the back of the Old Joint Stock.
