It strikes me I may have mis-sold yesterday's DoPubs! venture as a bit of a doss. Brimming with fun as it was, this was also to be a day of hard graft.

Welcome to the planning base of our "Day of Pubs". On the face of it, a table at the Three Guineas in the old Reading General station building, but in reality a nerve centre where lightning decisions would be taken at the drop of a pint glass. Completing CAMRA's Mid-Berkshire real ale trail was to be no casual adventure.

Well versed in the timetables for Reading's motley network of bus services, we began our attack on the furthest flung rural pubs. We wouldn't finish all 24 in a day, of course, but we'd bag the tricky ones in time's nick ahead of an evening in town.

Getting around Berkshire by bus is far from easy as our tales will tell, and nor is it for those light of wallet. A whopping £1.50 minimum single fare makes Reading Buses' BusAbout ticket seem like good value at just £3.00. In theory, this is the equivalent of London's Travelcard or Oxford's Freedom ticket, giving you full run of the Reading Buses network. In reality, its scope is limited to central Reading routes, and is therefore useless on our kind of venture - as it is for most, I should imagine.

Guy and I discovered this flaw, not as we were sold the ticket, but the first time we tried to use it. A suitably discontented driver accosted us as we tried to board his bus, exercising no discretion in the extra £5.20 he charged us for the two miles between the BusAbout boundary and our destination. After that, we needed a drink.

Good job The Six Bells in Burghfield was well worth the journey. Great local beers on offer, an open fire, good conversation... it was a shame to leave.

But leave we had to - to come here:

Welcome to Riseley, only 8 miles south of central Reading, but undoubtedly the most ambitious trek on the trail. Meticulous planning went into catching one of the hourly buses that serves rural Riseley, and we were delighted to have made it when we arrived around 3pm. Bloody shame the pub shut at 2.30...

As you'll see, options for entertainment during our 70 minute wait for the next scheduled bus were somewhat limited. In the cold, damp conditions of an afternoon in March, the prospect of a country walk wasn't nearly as appealing as a late running bus back to Reading would have been.

Sadly, buses were not forthcoming (the Reading-bound service had passed at precisely the moment we realised the pub was locked), and we were forced to make our own amusement, Riseley-style...

Good job we'd brought country provisions...

At 4.20, we were whisked away by the friendliest bus driver I've met for a long time, who engaged us in conversation all the way back. The small but obviously well-managed Countywide Buses may take pride where Reading Buses should feel ashamed - hard to imagine this amiable driver telling a customer to "change the number (of the bus) yourself if you're bothered it's wrong", as we'd heard a Reading Buses driver doing earlier in the day.

Hot foot from central Reading to a legendary Berkshire pub I've tried so many times to find. And when you do find it, you're not quite sure whether to knock or ring the doorbell...

This is a pub with a difference. The multiple award-winning Magpie & Parrot in Shinfield is little more than two rooms in a private house, but it has an unbelievable atmosphere which is unlike any other pub I've visited. It feels just like popping over for a drink with friends; you enjoy your drink in the comfort of an armchair; you're surrounded by books and trinkets which could (and did) keep you amused for hours; you've fresh nibbles on your table at all times, replenished before you can even notice you've eaten them; friendly locals, great beers, and a beautiful pub dog (who has as much character as the pub). There's even a classic car rally in May, to which we'll be bringing Guy's Triumph...

Next time you come to visit me in Reading, make sure I take you here for a drink or two.

Question is, how will we get back? Shinfield is on a main bus route from Reading, but after our experiences yesterday I won't be using it ever again. Last orders at the Magpie take place (charmingly) at 7pm, and a conveniently timed Thames Travel bus passes at 6.45. It passes even when two young gentlemen are standing at the bus stop with their hands aloft, waving like fury as the bus draws ever closer. Not only does it pass, it does so with great gusto, as though the late-running driver had put his boot to the floor at the prospect of passengers who might delay him further. Furious, I left Thames Travel - the worst bus operator in the world - a well considered message on their 'out of hours' travel line (yes, this was 6.45pm). They've yet to reply, but I assure you, there will be a conversation soon...

A taxi to Reading allowed us to catch up with a few of the central pubs on the trail, some of them regular haunts, others getting a visit for the first time. For The Queen's Head on Christchurch Road, it would probably be the last visit, too...

Not so for the magnificent Eldon Arms, a long-term favourite and such a beautifully laid-back pub in which to drink. Famed in our minds for its choice of milds, we weren't disappointed to find the full range was 'on' (as we drinkers say). A little merry from our cumulative indulgence, the landlady immediately spotted that "we looked like boys on the trail" and gave us our stickers...

"Plenty of room in there", she said, pointing to the saloon bar. With her words filtering through several layers of inebriation, Guy immediately piped up.

"Oooh, pretty girls in there?!", he slurred, making a beeline for the door... I think they'll remember us in future.

Through the day, we'd harboured a notion that several more Reading pubs would be tackled in the evening. Deep down, we both knew we wouldn't get much further than The Retreat which, alongside the Eldon and The Hobgoblin, is my favourite Reading pub. Okay, so one of my favourites...

Last night we caught it on fine form. With live music from a fifty-something blues duo called "One and a Half Pints", the place was alive with jibes and laughter. After several pints, Guy and I agreed we couldn't really bring ourselves to leave before closing time, and prepared to soak up every minute. Literally...

Six down, eighteen to go - we really must DoPubs more often.