BRAPA - Knottingley

Pub pet of the year contender in Knottingley

Knottingley is one of those West Yorkshire towns you've heard of, but probably haven't had any reason to visit, unless of course for example you are trying to tick off everyone pub in the Good Beer Guide and one appears in Knottingley.

The trains seem very infrequent from Leeds, and I couldn't see a bus service either, so I had no choice but to hang around until 17:16.  I didn't want it to be a fruitless experience though .....

Head of Steam, Leeds

I've been hearing positive reviews of this fairly new place just a stones throw from the station, situated from memory in an old Tetley's pub called Spencers which everyone used to walk past and ignore whilst on the way to next door Scarbrough Hotel.  So at least it felt like an old pub with a huge circular bar, an impressive beer range, and what looked like a hidden upstairs balcony though no idea if the general public are allowed up there.  A very smiley barman broke off from his flirting with blonde barmaid to run round a serve me an excellent Wharefebank Stout.  It was stout weather, very foggy, drizzling rain and almost dark despite not being 5pm.  The pub was generally dead, apart from a few lone drinkers dotted around so I perched on a stool near the bar to get a feel for the place.  When music wasn't playing, possibly the worst laugh ever encountered in a BRAPA pub cut the atmosphere like a knife.  It was a combination of a wicked witch and a car with a low battery.  I couldn't see her but I could make out her hubbie, and assumed he was the funniest man ever as she just didn't stop!  Everyone else just smiled to themselves and tapped on their phones, so I did the same.  A proper old pub made into a real ale haven then, a great pre-emptive and being in Leeds, a good one to consider for night's out, gigs, work drinks etc. and a good antidote from all the Tapped, Friends of Ham, Brewery Tap, Veritas, Botanist type places dominating the scene.

A very pleasing pre-emptive for Leeds

After a pretty excruciating train journey lasting almost an hour, I was finally in Knottingley and the weather hadn't eased up at all, so it was hard to get a feel for the town, though the hooded kids hanging around outside a kebab shop made me think 'dodgy' straight away.  It was a fair 20 minute walk across town to the pub, on a bridge over the Aire & Calder canal, probably a beautiful outdoor summer drinking location.

727.  Steampacket Inn, Knottingley

Quite a huge pub actually, which surprised me, and I was greeted by a massive anchor (not rhyming slang) in the porch.  Something to do with a steamer from the old shipyard.  I try to occasionally pay attention to the cultural and historical elements!  An old local with 'Knottingley eyes' looked at the distrustfully, and then I was greeted by a pleasant wiry chap who I think was the landlord.  He had three ales on offer, I had a Green Hop from Marston's and a Bull's Eye by Jennings - both quite standard (i.e. boring) but nowt to suggest this place was Marston's tied.  The landlord asked me if it was still raining so I gave him a more in depth weather report than he really appreciated!  As I went to sit in the comfy large lounge area, I spotted that most pleasing of BRAPA quirks, a PUB CAT asleep on a chair.  I left him to it, cats like their boundaries unlike daft dogs.  But he was soon eyeballing me with those same "Knottingley eyes", and before I knew it, he'd come over for a cuddle and head scratch, such an affectionate little kitty, I called him Colonel Chambers and think he knew the BRAPA pub pet of the year award is still up for grabs.  He was soon off again though, back to his chair but I like to think he recongised me as a cat person.  And then I heard THAT LAUGH again - nooooo!  Surely not two women with such a laugh?  Well I went to the bar to get my half of boring Jennings, vaguely recognised the man, and enquired as to whether they'd just come from Head of Steam in Leeds, which they of course had.  BRAPA co-incidence of the year?  Soon they came to sit with me and we had a good BRAPA chat, she actually stopped laughing, and he was from Northumberland so was looking up pubs in that county, one I have very much neglected.  I was diplomatic and said her laugh was "characterful" though we all knew the truth!   A good pub.  

Steampacket in the murky, misty November evening in Knottingley

So there you have it, I had actually considered combining this trip with Pontefract and Kirk Smeaton but ultimately it was all a bit too much like hard work.  There is still an outside chance I can complete West Yorkshire by the end of 2015, especially if I don't go to the Man Citeh cup game, though I think I'll also need no-one to start wanting "Christmas night's out" in December which usually scuppers BRAPA (well, it did last year, the only year!) 

And speaking of which, East Yorkshire should be completed (again!) by the end of this month and I've booked my (final) Bedfordshire trip out for January to complete that county so things are progressing well.  

I'll be back tomorrow to review Tuesday's trip to Brentford where I got 5 more ticks in.   

See you then, Si 

BRAPA Special - The Green Owl

The Green Owl is a pub which you can all recognise, though I doubt any of you reading this will have actually visited one quite so good.

Even it's name, "the Green Owl", is kind of quirky and ever so slightly traditional at the same time, and the Owl (not green in colour, a bog standard barn owl I think!) watches over you, painted on a centuries old rusty pub sign which creaks in the wind, it is one of those traditional inn signs which swings from side to side and juts out from the building.

You approach the pub on foot.  It is only approx 1.5 miles from both the nearest rail and bus links, a gentle uphill climb taking about half an hour at most, whilst for some environmental reason which I can't explain, cars are forbidden from making the climb along the grassy dirt track (exceptions made for beer delivery I assume!)  So you HAVE to be making an effort to come here, unless you are a lost rambler of course.

The views from 'up top' are stunning, and birds of prey circle and call out, there cries echoing around the valley, whilst you can hear the gush of water crashing down it.  On a clear day, you might even see abseilers on the vertical rock face which frames the pub as you approach it.  There are plenty of sheep and cows dotted around the landscape too.   I think there's a nature reserve and it's also a great spot for anglers nearby though I've never really got beyond the pub.  Why would I?

The pub is thatched, and it has tudor style beams though it is painted olive green as it has for as long as anyone can remember.  Perhaps this is where the 'green' in the 'Green Owl' title comes from.  Some say it's something pagan.  There's usually a blackboard leaning outside with some witty comment, quote or even some blatant self-advertising chalked into it.

On entering, you'll always get a warm welcome from John and Mary, a recently retired couple who know the pub trade but have moved from the city to somewhere a bit more rural.  They are a kindly traditional couple who always look you in the eye, and treat first time visitors with the same warmth that they treat the small band of regulars, mainly retired farm workers.  These regulars generally lean at the bar, laughing and joking with John and Mary.  No stools at the bar though, you have to encourage punters to be able to get to the bar to see the beers properly, the locals know the drill and will probably recommend you a beer.

Both landlord and landlady are very sprightly for their age, John is up and down that cellar changing the ales with the gusto of someone half his age.  Mary's a proper old fashioned housewife, and she makes fresh filled rolls (pease pudding is the locals favourite) daily, and even makes her own scotch eggs.

There is no hot food at the Green Owl, but along with the rolls and the scotch eggs, some specialty pork pies are supplied by a local butcher whilst there's an obligatory jar of pickled eggs which has been there for years.  The rumour is they've been there since the end of the war, and if you eat one whole, Mary will stand you half a pint at no charge!  There is a great range of crisps and some pork scratchings, no nuts because John has an allergy.

The pub is so old (they claim 16th century), it seems sunken into the floor but has a tardis effect, it's a lot bigger inside than you'd think.  Upholstered bench seating surrounds most of the perimeter with the bar on the back wall.  There are a few tables central but a clear route to the bar at all times.  There are a few snugs to the right, some big enough to almost be called small rooms in there own right, the highlight being an ancient huge oak settle.

If you come on a Friday night, you won't get to sit here as local musicians come in with their instruments and play a ceilidh, on and off, for the entire evening.  There is no piped music, no TV, no games machines.

Phone signal is poor as you'd imagine but hey, this is the 21st century, so in a rare nod in that direction there is a WiFi password, and guess what, it actually works.  Access is disabled every Thursday evening though, it's quiz night and old Albert (93 this December) has a habit of texting his grand kids for answers, they've taught him well!

There is a welcome real fire, which crackles away happily in the winter months (and much of the spring and autumn too up here).  The pub is very well insulated though through proper ancient honest building materials.   The ceiling is so low that anyone over six foot tall is going to have to stoop a bit, still it's handy for sticking the vast array of pump clips on the ceiling (or nicking them I suppose!)

There's a dartboard as well, and an ancient hood skittles table - the locals are in a league and have about 200 years experience between them - the reigning champions.  No pool table sadly but you can't have everything and they say it will only attract the rabble from the town!

And how could go this long without mentioning Rachel?  Pretty brunette post-grad student, daughter of John and Mary and she returns a few times a year to inject her bubbly personality on proceedings, and to flash her milk white smile and sparkly eyes which radiate around the pub.  She pretends she's doing them a favour by "coming back to help", but she can't stay away from this little utopia for too long, how could anyone?

The pub usually has six guest ales on and a real cider, no lager, no keg in here.  A few bottles if you are so inclined, oh and a full range of cordials (including blackcurrant) if you are a non drinker.  The ales are sourced from local microbreweries which don't tend to get much of a look in at other places, there are normally two pales, a golden, a standard bitter, a stout or porter and some speciality style which becomes a talking point, such us a saison or a wheat beer for example.  The cider is usually dry or medium dry, we're talking something Welsh or South Western usually.  The beers are cool enough but not over chilled, crystal clear (unless unfined or a wheat beer etc) and the quality is always exceptional, that is what they pride themselves on above all else.  Prices are good too, about £2.80 a pint depending on strength, you'd get change from £3 anyway.

John & Mary have vague plans to start brewing their own beer, but will only do so if they know it's going to be as much of a 'hit' with the locals as the ales they currently sell (a tough ask) so will be consulting 'people in the know' on that one - no point brewing their own if it isn't up to scratch is their attitude!  Local CAMRA love this pub, and are keen to help advise them.

They did once try upping the beer range to 10, but quality suffered.  Less is sometimes more.  Besides, the pub is never heaving enough to go through the barrels quite so quickly (not that they'd let it sit there too long), but the Green Owl always manages to have a hubbub and atmosphere even at the quietest times, maybe it is all ingrained in the fabric of the building, like ghosts of yesteryear.  

The toilets are outdoors (well, the gents are - the ladies one was only built in the last 30 years, I guess women didn't come in here/weren't allowed before then!)  Anyway, the loos are always clean, soap, paper towels (no dryers!), regularly cleaned, but not too bleachy - it can affect the taste of your beer.  
Whilst we are outside, the garden (and it really is a beer garden, not one of these 'smokers' areas - they have their own little side patio area) is vast and rolls down towards a dry stone wall and stream, sheep in the field behind so you are very much at one with nature.  Picnic benches galore, they do one mini beer festival out here every June, with Morris Dancers, face painters and a barbecue, plus some terrible 'live' bands which have the sheep running down the hillside - well, it's always a good day, and the one time kids and dogs are allowed!

So yes, sorry, John & Mary are very clear on those particular ground rules - no children or dogs at all times in the pub,  Besides, it might upset 'Diddles', the pub cat who pretty much sleeps all day and doesn't really let much bother her, though she doesn't like her own name much!

I've probably forgotten to describe some of the intricacies of this wonderful hostelry, but I think you get the idea.  A modern day "Moon Under Water", George Orwell style, I suppose.

Thanks for reading, Si
  

BRAPA - Milton Keynes away

My superb view at the Red Lion, Fenny Stratford (see pub 726)

I broke my Bucks BRAPA duck yesterday with a commendable three pub effort (the MK Wetherspoons not currently being in the Good Beer Guide).  Buckinghamshire joins Essex, Gloucs, Kent and Worcs on three.

After arriving in Milton Keynes via Euston at about 10:15am, we had a long walk into town from the railway station, in a very straight line, such is the crazily uniformed layout of MK.  One of the main conclusions from the day was that MK is traffic friendly, but not pedestrian friendly despite the strange parallel walkways.

724.  Slug & Lettuce, Milton Keynes

My joke about this being the most historic, architectural gem in the whole of Milton Keynes went down well on social media, perhaps it was actually true!  Anyway, unlike the Leicester version of this chain, there wasn't a buzzing pre-match throng of breakfasting people enjoying a wide range of ales.  Only two were on, Tim Taylor Landlord being the most exciting and to be fair, it was well kept having made a similar journey to us.  Dad seemed to be flagging already.  Maybe MK had drained his soul.  Speaking of which, the obligatory 'nod to Hallowe'en' was in the form of old B-movie posters.  At least, that's what I thought until I read titles such as "City of the Alien Invasion" and "How to Identify a Zombie" and wondered if they were just tourist information posters.  And as for the Wolfman, he was just a regular chap with much facial hair and a crazed expression.  The barman was a nice, helpful chap though his touch of southern hemisphere accent slightly hindered his chances of staff of the year, not that we are prejudiced here on BRAPA.  The only other customer, an old woman, had fallen asleep behind me briefly raising hopes in my mind of a first BRAPA death, which would have helped this rather non-descript pub stick in the mind.  As it was, mine host called her a taxi and she was soon on her way back home.  And we had a bus to catch.

Heritage heaven in Milton Keynes

Dad was really in my hands re the logistics of today went, so I was glad when bus 23 turned up and went in a northerly direction.  Plus Bus worked too.  We were soon being dropped perfectly as I envisaged, on the outskirts of Great Linford.  Problem is, I hadn't really then worked out how to get to the pub - Google Maps was no help at all.  Luckily, a friendly dog walker assisted us and soon we were crossing a bridge alongside the Grand Union Canal, our pub just on the other side. 

725.  Black Horse, Great Linford

It looked like a creaky old ancient inn from the outside, but it was soon clear this was gastro-tastic, and we were nearly grouped in with two women who'd just come in for lunch.  Staff were good though, and when the women had been dispatched to a dining room to the left, we were served, again from a choice of just the two ales, but the Oxford Gold was good if maybe a bit thin,  The low ceiling and little nooks and crannies gave quite a nice pub atmosphere, even if the diners did keep arriving.  However, it was clear that this pub wasn't going to have enough to keep us occupied until the match, (even though the loos were in a strange double upstairs location and smelt of lavender) so I rang for a taxi, Ace, which was reliable and contradicted the dodgy online review I'd read and after what seemed like a fair old drive, we were in Fenny Stratford.

Canal side action at the Black Horse, but nicer out than in.

726.  Red Lion, Fenny Stratford

Dad was just taking the obligatory BRAPA photo of me outside the pub, when Dave Miller popped his head out of the door to welcome us in.  This was like a 'Welly' home-coming, with loads of old faces of Hull City fans I'd not seen for ages, cluttering the main bar which had a covered pool table and a hidden side room with a congregation of well hidden Amber Nectar people.  We ordered a Hydes 1864 original, a real proper taste of Manchester, but what was this, plastic glasses?  More on that later.  Me and Dad had a brief spell of being sociable, but when fanzine hero Matt caused a distraction, Dad (with mojo well and truly restored) saw the opportunity to nip through a conservatory into a beer garden onto the one bench in the sun.  Move of the day!  It was ridiculously summery for October 31st, and the location was stunning as we watched canal boats negotiate the lock (I'd have been annoyed if I'd had a load of pubbers gawping at me trying to drive one of those things), there was also some great buildings to admire and plants to identify!  It was like summer.  Christine and Chris D came along about 1:15pm to join us, and then a local walking his rat (oops I mean dog) chatted to us.  He explained how L**ds fans had turned up drunk a few weeks ago, broken off the canal gate and trashed two other pubs in town, hence the plastic glasses.  His rat-dog was mingling happy with Hull City fans, he'd never done this with other team's fans because WE are the nicest, still the Gooligans weren't present.  The beers again were a bit limited, the Ghost Ship had gone off so I was back on the Young's Special like in Bedford last week, but make no mistake, this was an excellent pre-match session.  

Arriving in sunny Fenny Stratford, we sat on a bench to the right that you can't quite see. 

After a laborious Hull City performance which at least ended well, and a traumatic walk to Bletchley station (which at least ended well!), we were back at Euston in surprisingly good time.

Dad was sure he hadn't been to the Bree Louise (not including a more recent aborted attempt with Tom post-Watford after an Everton v Liverpool cup game at Wembley - too busy).  Both me and Christine found this very hard to believe, so it was time to take him to see if anything stirred in his mind!  It didn't, and further research (thanks Christine!) shows my first (and long awaited) visit was probably 20th Feb 2010 after a West Ham away game which I remember Dad did NOT go to, so this makes sense.  Anyway, it was heaving so we sat outside, Dad had a dry cider and my "Horrible Night Stout" by Wild Weather Ales was easily my pint of the day.  We had to contend with two weirdo Man Utd fans (Kevin & Perry?) but that's the territory in such commuter pubs, still nice to see more than 3 beers on a bar. 

A "Horrible Night's Stout" outside at Bree Louise, a fine pint.

Back in Kings Cross for the 8pm train home, all in all, a very successful day all things considered.

November Preview

My target for the end of October was 720, I am currently on 726 so I'm ahead of schedule.  A 27 pub month was very pleasing.  So even if I have a bad November, I should be easily on course for the 750 by the end of the year......possibly the end of this month! 

That's not to say I'll be complacent.  Best laid plans and all that.....

A perfect example of what I mean is Brentford on Tuesday.  What was looking like being an extremely productive BRAP-fest is now going to be a bit of a struggle,  I won't be in Brentford til after 16:30 so have had to revise plans.  Whitton & Isleworth pre-match.  Kew Bridge and Brentford post match.  Hounslow the following morning for brekkie is a bonus option though.   It is what it is  (great phrase) and I'm looking forward to a "great day out" though not too optimistic football-wise!  

I'm actually now contemplating a rare Monday night BRAPA trip tomorrow.  Knottingley is next on the West Yorkshire list and being off work plus the late start on Tuesday means it makes sense in my mind, at least.  Nothing definite, I'll sleep on it!

The rest of the month will see me get back on the North Yorkshire trail (7th and 28th), we have our monthly trip to Bedfordshire on the 14th in the forboding form of Luton, whilst the 21st sees a trip to Bristol, though 3 o'clock kick off it ain't.  I'm also hoping to get back in the West Yorks midweek routine on 10th, 17th and 24th.   Twenty four pubs this month?  I should coco.  

Si

  

BRAPA - Robin Hood's Bay & Whitby (a Hallowe'en Special)

I've heard of deep fried Mars Bars but really?? 

A bonus BRAPA trip on Thursday gave North Yorkshire 4 more ticks (I've now done 92 for the 2016 Good Beer Guide) to see it very much cement it's place in second spot.

The day set out damp and chilly, with a bit of watery sunshine as I waited for the bus from Scarborough to take me up the coast to Robin Hood's Bay which had two pubs I 'needed' to do.  The double decker (not deep fried) was full to busting, with goths, southern tourists and half term brats all in attendance, and it soon steamed up so nobody had a clue where we were.

Trusty Google Maps helped but it was chucking it down as I found a coastal footpath to save me walking up the very steep hill to the Dolphin.

A nice coastal walk in RHB.

I was at the Dophin 10:45am, it said 11am opening, but if the door is open, I'm obliged to ask the question.  Okay, so the place was in a state of chaos but the answers of "no chance" and simply "hah!" from the large hairy barman was never going to endear me to the place.  Especially as I returned, soaked to the skin by now at 11:35am only for toothless cleaning lady to tell me they still weren't ready!  Well why are you smoking outside then and not working?  This is probably the main tourist trap pub in down with it's picturesque exterior on a hill in the heart of town, so to not be open on half term week in these circumstances simply isn't acceptable.  More on there later.

Rewind a bit, and I'd walked back along the coastal path to the first pub of the day, an 11:30am advertised opener.  Again, I could get inside as the tea room was open(!) so despite being 10:55am, I took my chance.....

720.  Victoria Hotel, Robin Hood's Bay

And what a difference a pub makes.  I found my way to the bar room from the corridor and stood there for 2 minutes, it didn't look good.  A woman appeared and I explained I knew I was earlier but.... and she found another lady to serve me!  I made sure I was grateful and sat in the large room, supping a nice Sonnet 43 pale from Durham.  Some tourists who'd presumably stayed the night were having coffee and breakfasts, some shrieking kids unfortunately but the room was large enough for them to be kept at a distance.  A smiley old woman read her Phillipa Gregory book whilst her husband looked at his laptop, occasionally breaking off to chuckle and tell her something that was happening in the news.  It was all very serene apart from a nervous Dad dropping all his change at the bar, whilst a couple of males members of staffed chatted in the doorway and stopped anyone getting in or out.  My ale took a bit of getting used to, but I liked it once the initial bready taste had gone.  They sell something called "beer bats" where you can get 6 third-pint measures, very fitting for this time of year!  The room was lovely wood panelling, had a really nice old 19th century feel.  As I left, one of the men who'd been lurking in the corridor made a big play of making me go out the bar way, rather than back through the tea room which was a bit odd, but he seemed friendly enough. A good pub to bring up my October target of 720.

"I'm the left side, I'm the left side, I'm the left side Vic Hotel!"

Back to Ye Dolphin farce, and having tried unsuccessfully to get in twice, a third rejection would have just been embarrassing so after a quick phone catch-up with Dad, I lurked in the rain across the street and "watched".  Never stalked a pub before.  Anyway, a couple went in so I followed close behind...... it was 11:52am!

721.  Dophin, Robin Hood's Bay

There was no time for sarcastic slow hand-clapping as I noted a couple with big dog already sat in front of the welcoming fire.  And there was no way around them.  The couple who I followed were struggling to get served as our big hairy host was taking his time, breathing heavily and toothless wonder was nowhere to be seen.  Then two big groups followed and it was chaos in the little bar room, and I had to just keep my place at the bar.  Eventually, I was in, and sold my soul to a gimmicky LED flashing pint of Hobgoblin, the beer of this time of year.  It was pretty good, but I think I was already looking on this pub with less than rose-tinted specs.  I sat in the main bar and soon, a second barmaid appeared, a very jolly friendly happy woman which this place needed but it was too little too late as everyone had been served (though most returned to place lunch orders).  Lobster Thermidor at £14.95 summed it all up really.  The 'decor' was obligatory Hallowe'en, mainly fake cobwebs which begged the question "why did they just not bother cleaning at all, then we could have had genuine cobwebs and 11am opening?!"  To be honest, the pub was very much like some of York's old famous ones, a kind of mash-up of Black Swan, Golden Fleece and Red Lion, with slightly better beer quality.  Don't waste your time, head for the Vic instead.  

Ye Dolphin, overrated tourist nonsense.

I took the bus up the coast to Whitby now, a bit of a cliche to come here on half term week at this most haunted of times, but BRAPA doesn't discriminate.  Well, only against rubbish pubs.  It's nearly 13 months from my last fairly disastrous trip here and it's amazing how nice climbing the 199 steps can be without a broken toe, even if a little girl managed to "out-count" me on the way up.  

Whitby Abbey, nice and bleak at the top of the 199 steps.

After one of the nicest freshest pieces of fish I'd ever had, I nearly got run over by some crazy steampunks with goggles chasing each other down the street.  It was pub time!  

722.  Granby Hotel, Whitby

Thankfully out of the main tourist reaches, I found this cracker of a pub building next to a posh crescent of B&B's called West Cliff.  The pub had two sides, so typically of me, I entered the one with no people in it but this time, the right decision as some goths in hysterics were watching Neighbours and generally not being very stereotypically goth in the small upper right hand side.  I had the whole lounge area to myself, even if the fire was giving off no heat at all.  The landlord seemed a nice chap, and I ordered an Old Peculiar cos twice today I'd seen adverts for it which is peculiar(!) and I thought "if I see it, I must order it, it must be a sign!".  Nursing a pint of warming barley wine in a quiet lounge bar was exactly what I needed at this stage of the day.   The most peculiar thing really was, on doing my pub research, is that this pub is a genuine freehouse but always puts on three Marstons, Theakstons and Cameron's Strongarm.  I'm not anti the bigger names as a rule but it still struck me as very queer.  A massive dog walked in next and reminded me that pub calm can't be maintained forever, especially as it looked like it wanted to kill me when everyone else came in and commented how lovely he was.  As I left, he shone an eye at me very much like the evil baddie Transfer in Willie Fog's 80 days around the world. 

The Granby - ignore the Banks's sign, a bona fide free house (below) with a twist! 

723.  Little Angel Inn, Whitby

Back towards the harbour and station, there was no surprise to see this pub heaving, despite the mid afternoon hour.  What did surprise me though was a wide range of guest ales from micros.  I'd previously been to five Whitby pubs, and found the beer range rather disappointing.  I squashed in at the bar and ordered my second Sonnet 43 ale of the day, "Another Is Cried" which I described as red and delicious at the time.  I found a nice big table all to myself in the side room despite the people standing at the bar (grrrr! pet hate!)  and this was good news because by happy coincidence, my sister and her boyfriend were visiting BRAPA's favourite Whitby resident Lucy Williamson, and the trio joined me for a drink.  My sister Lu had just got a fringe, so my opening comment "I thought you had a wig on!" was never going to go down well.  I tried to insist it was a compliment.  Anyway, we had a nice drink after that though the hot water tap in the gents, deary me, really needs one of those "caution - almost boiling water" signs as I suffered third degree burns almost.  Meanwhile, Andy was pinning a BRAPA card to their noticeboard to help increase my appeal!   Sadly, I had to dash off for the 4pm train just when I could have settled down to a proper drinking session.

The Lucy duo prove they are no little angels in the Little Angel.

A typically excruciating slow stopper to Middlesbrough ensued, but I had an hour before the train back to York so it was pre-emptive time.  

Infant Hercules, Middlesbrough

I've said it before and I'll say it again, the micro pub revolution is needed nowhere more than a town like 'Boro.  I judged this one (of the five) to be closest to the station, so took a chance and wasn't a long walk when I got my bearings.  This was a pleasingly small micro, like a box, well a rectangular one and a few locals and our bearded host who looked like something from an American new wave folk band were setting the world to rights.  I ordered a nice but unspectacular pint of Jeepers Creepers, the 3 or 4 beers on were mostly Hallowe'en themed and the barman was so quick, I had to ask a kind old chap if that really was my pint, it just seemed to materialise on the bar!  Wooo.  Spooky.  Boro' had beaten Man Utd on penalties in the cup the previous day so there was a lot of pride about that, and the comment "it's nice to see some Championship clubs in the quarters" had me agreeing wholeheartedly.  The next comment "Man City should walk it from here" did make me grit my teeth a bit, but guess it's realistic.  And here's to a semi final trip to Boro' so I can sample three of the remaining four micropubs, if we don't do them in the league that is (we might leave the Twisted Lip for a quieter time, I have my reasons).  And I wouldn't mind popping back in here either.

Pre-emptive, Micro, friendly, football chat - can't fault this pub!

And I'll be back later for a report on Saturday's trip to Milton Keynes. 

Si

 

  

BRAPA : the archives (341-350)

Evening all!  Welcome back to the now official Monday night archives slot, though we probably only have four or five sessions left in truth.  Are you getting teary eyed?

Here's some more as we travel to counties like Durham, Gloucestershire, Hampshire, Lancs and Lincolnshire where I visited pubs yesteryear, before BRAPA was a seedling in my addled brain.

341.  Head of Steam, Durham

Probably somewhere between Newcastle's scuzzy gig Head of Steam, and the grand but sometimes foody Huddersfield version, JW2 thought that despite it being by no means a Durham GBG regular, he should bring me here before my train back home on my July 2011 visit.  Good pre-emptive work JW2!  I remember walking in to quite a young clientele, and smiley young female bar staff who seemed keen to impress but weren't really so comfortable when the subject of cask ale came up.  Can't quite remember the details but something didn't quite go according to plan!  I was most enthralled however by an interesting collection of Live Aid 1985 photos on the wall which must have been taken by someone who was at the front for all the bands - I'd just seen a programme on TV and wondered what it must have been like, Bob Geldof and Bono aside of course!   I remember telling JW2 I personally thought it was, all things considered, a pub worthy of a place in the GBG.  Now Camerons owned I believe, which seems to have been a change for the better.

342.  Prince of Wales, Westbury-on-Trym

Westbury was mine and Dad's Bristol suburb of choice for those Bristol Rovers games after we started using the GBG to help us pick a pub.  It even remained so after Dad read about a brutal murder, which surprised me cos it seemed a place full of poshos.  I'm going to stick my neck out here (not so I can be executed) but because I think my main reason for choosing this was it was an 11am opener on 13th April 2002, before we discovered the brilliant (but presumably no more) Post Office Tavern and it's invisible pizza menu and olympic athlete barmaid.  I digress.  This pub had a welcoming but very well to do feel to it, enhanced by incredibly posh Mum and student daughter demanding lunch just a few tables away, where Newcastle silently played someone in the lunchtime kick off.  The pub was almost too nice and I felt I was too northern and dirty to fit in here!

343.  Pembroke, Old Portsmouth

Friday 19th March 2010 and I'd finished my tour of HMS Victory and 'enjoyed' a pint in the not very pre-emptive Lord Nelson with a nice young chap who was actually a West Ham fan who was in Jimmy Bullard's class at school and loved dressing in a suit when he played Football Manager!  So it was off to get some proper GBG pubs ticked off and first on my list was here, a real old school pub with lots of old men with carrier bags of tripe, old women cackling with one tooth, and aggresive darts players.  I squashed in a corner with a pint of Bass and tried to look relaxed!  The people were nice really, just very characterful.   I must have thought it was ok, for I brought Tom and Dad back here a couple of years later after another HMS Victory walk around.  I think I went for the Greene King Abbot this time, sat even further in the corner, the pub felt very similar, like the type you'd find if you were on shore leave.  Understated but a bit of salty star quality!

344.  Dog & Gun, Aughton

14th September 2013 saw me and Krzb have a very enjoyable day in Ormskirk.  We combined it by geting on a very interesting Metro link which I didn't know existed to Aughton Park, from where we walked to this pub.  Two cosy roomed Marstons, it might have had a certain charm, but the menagerie of animals and birds was ridiculous.  I've never seen so many things flitting and running around a pub, not to mention the donkey in the garden or the rabbits.  I think at the time they were also doing 'light snacks', but who'd eat here?  It smelt unhygenic and the final straw had to be when I reached into the leaflet holder to get a local CAMRA mag.  Not only was it empty but a huge snail was inside!  "Inform your local CAMRA branch if this is empty" said the slogan.  But it technically wasn't empty, so I couldn't tell CAMRA anything!  It was time to leave, after a very quick glimpse of the donkey at the bank.  To be back in the GBG, I can only assume a full fumigation has taken place.

Arriving at the animal-tastic Dog & Gun

345.  Rose & Crown, Blackpool

Well, well.  I never thought this would be a pre pre-emptive BRAPA tick, not in my wildest imagination.  Not even this August just gone when Andy Dunn regaled me with stories of how scientific invention can change the world, whilst Lu rolled her eyes Jig got pegged after I gave a punk permission to do so.  Krzb then pegged me as pay back.  Still, I should have known something was afoot.  For the first time since my first visit here (probably Aug 2007), we were NOT drinking Wells Bombardier from a Polycarbonate glass.  We were in fact drinking a top quality pint of White Witch by Moorhouses.  Still, the word 'BRAPA pre-emptive' was a far from my mind as anything.  Over the years, this pub has almost become the official "punk" pub outside Winter Gardens.  It's normally packed and plays a spirited selection of old and new punk music at all times.  Although it's never been our favourite, it is tradition to come at least once every year (though we didn't in 2014) and has a great hubbub.  My highlights include when they made Lu a great vegan meal from scratch cos she was bored of jacket and beans.  Another good time was when a punk lady took a great photo of all of us on my little lime green camera.  This was when we were winding down, having witnessed the London riots on a TV through the window, we'd been sat in the outdoor area where Pet Shop Boys were being piped into the street.  Don't blame the punx, we were all in Blackpool! 

Lu and Jig enjoy a surprisingly top quality pint in the Rose & Crown!

346.  Pump & Truncheon, Blackpool

And on the other side of the Blackpool coin, "it's about time!" is all I can say about finally seeing this gem back in the GBG, though to be fair standards had slipped around the 2011-13 period and I know because I've had enough pints in here over the years to feel informed enough to say!  It feels strange looking back to say that my first visit was with football in mind, Boxing Day 2004 before Stuart Elliott tore those poor Seasiders apart.  I fell in love with it straight away, with it's strange almost courtroom feel as we sat around the perimeter with bannisters in our way.  On trail were England Cricket team, playing an Ashes test and it felt hard to get passionate about cricket on Boxing Day.  Shame the locals couldn't put the same passion into supporting their football team that day.  It's done us well for football a couple of times since, notably New Years Day 2013 when it won massive brownie points for being open 10am and having three perfectly well kept ales on!  That never happens on NYD.  But it's of course the punk festival I know it best for, having introduced it to my friends the first time we came to the Punk Fest after that 26.12.14 day (2007), it has been our safe-haven, regular pub and we all love it.   Even the harder to please members of the group and believe me, they can be hard to please!  In 2015 especially, I noted an upturn of beer range and quality and with a "punk wedding" on in the background, it felt like it was trying to compete with Rose & Crown for the punk errrm crown.  A toastie, a game of pool, and a listen to the 16 song muscial loop is always a joy.   Wonderful place.

Me, Lisa and Lu - not at all drunk in the Pump, 7.8.15

347.  Buffer Stops, Rawtenstall

27th July 2013 and our annual Welly day out took us to the East Lancs railway.  Some bright spark had learnt of a new pub opening the very day we were there, and I just remember sitting on some very new picnic benches (looked like they'd arrived from B&Q 10 minutes before) right at the bottom of the beer garden (outdoor area) in the summer sun.  Next thing I know, Christine's come back with a round and exclaims she's just been served by no other than Lancs steam train and shit pop music impresario Pete Waterman, who the internet confirms did do the grand opening of this pub on this day though Christine had stalked him sufficiently to get a photo to prove it.  This must be a BRAPA record for visiting a pub after it's opened, though I am determined to beat it one day.  Also probably the most famous person to serve me a BRAPA pint, though again, this will be beaten one day when Super Kevin Francis opens a micro pub in Hednesford.  

Cheers for the ale Pete, but not for the 80's dross! 

348.  Butcher & Beast, Heighington

By the time me and Dad went to watch Hull City away at Lincoln on 9th November 2002, we'd learnt two things.  Firstly, we'd be using the Good Beer Guide to select away match pubs for near on 11 months and we could finally do this for Lincoln.  Secondly, Lincoln away is one of the scariest, aggravational police ridden hooligan ridden places for an away day.  I think these two factors were the reason behind our decision to go to the nearest village to the centre.  I don't remember much about it apart from it being I think black and white beamed, very traditional inside, hanging baskets outside, a bit of food going on, and as it was a Bateman's pub as it is now, was this perhaps my introduction to this famous brewery's ales.  There was still something of a novelty factor pubs of visiting a GBG pub at this time, the standard overall seemed that much higher.  This was never a contender for the 2002/3 pub of the year, but a good one nonetheless.

349.  Blue Bell, Scunthorpe

Now I'm not going to claim that I was ignorant of the 'chain' of Wetherspoons when we visited here on 15th Feb 2003 but it's fair to say we hadn't really done our homework as it felt like Dad's car stumbled upon it more than anything.  No Autoroute map had been made, and I obviously hadn't read the description, so maybe it was more of a "bonus pub" than anything else.  Dad quickly pulled into the large car park with a "ey up, Blue Bell, is this one you wanted?" and I replied with an "errrm I think so".  We both found it a massive bonus to find a pub open to us well before 12 noon and the two bouncers didn't put us off as we pretended to have nothing to do with football (the town had been teeming with a sense of dread, as Scunthorpe often does anyway).  About 20 minutes in as we took our drinks to a raised area to the right of the bar, I read a menu and it twigged "aaaah it's a Wetherspoons, this explains everything".  It probably also explained how the previously empty car park was suddenly a hive of riot police, but they wished us a cheery good bye as we fought our way back to the car, with Dad muttering at them if THIS was really all necessary.  Off to Ashby High St. for a bit of peace and quiet(!)

350.  Magpie, Liverpool Street, London

Me, Dad, Christine and Ben had checked into our respective Travelodge accomodation and enjoyed three wonderful pubs close to the city before two of our group's birthday night on 28th Jan 2009 - the East India Arms being the highlight.   What could possibly go wrong in three words?  Chris Irvin Syndrome - that's what.  This apparently wonderful pub was a bad choice for a midweek night, being so close to Liverpool Street station.  Stressed staff, beers going off, nowhere to sit, dirty plates not cleared away, chaotic food ordering - oh dear, it was almost a blueprint for my forthcoming special BRAPA feature on the 'don'ts' of pubs.  Probably similar to fellow nearby Nicholson's Woodin Shades, I guess it is also a tourist trap but may be best visited 11am on a Saturday, though even this can't guarantee quietness as Woodin showed earlier this year.  I'd like to think it's re-emergence in the Guide proves it's quality, but in Central London even I admit you have to take it with a pinch of salt.

So, on that rather unsavoury note, I will bid you good night until next time (if not next Monday, definitely the one after) where we will be exploring East London, Greater Manchester, Merseyside and many more ......

Si

BRAPA - Bedfordshire Part VIII : North of Bedford

Autumnal walk from Souldrop to Sharnbrook

Henry VIII of course had six wives, but Bedfordshire VIII had only five pubs as my plans to go to Renhold / Salph End were both divorced and beheaded as my bladder lacked the strength of a heroic monarch when I arrived back in Bedford late afternoon.

Enough of this questionable Tudor theme, I was already past Peterborough when I devised a third strategy which meant going to the village of Riseley first.  This pub was never on the agenda until I realised that there was both a sensible bus service, and a pre-noon pub opening time.

Having almost remortgaged my flat to allow me to pay for a black pudding floury bap and freshly squeezed orange juice at Kings Cross, I was in a Bedford pound shop at 11am buying a hat as it had started raining quite steadily.  

As typical of Bedford's locals, comments suggested a total lack of faith in local bus services and there was almost a standing ovation as the 28 turned up only 2 minutes late, the driver having had a quick coffee break was by the far the jolliest Bedford bus driver ever.  Well done to him,

715.  Fox and Hounds, Riseley

In a village a few miles North and quite rural, I was not too surprised to see elements of the old 'gastro pub' rearing their ugly head.  A side room with knives and forks and placemats to the right, and a 'butchers counter' to the left.  It took a while to find a member of staff, and when he did, he came from the butchers bit and looked a lot more like one than a beer seller!  I found a surprisingly good ale, 'Thirst Blood' (it's that time of year) all the way from Hartlepool and it had travelled well, a very bitter red rye ale.  Despite foody elements, this pub had a low roof, creaking floorboards, a nice beamed interior, and therefore I could forgive it.  Besides, pubs in these parts are always going to struggle on "wet sales" alone and with beer in perfect condition, I had to commend it.  I sat by the front window and noticed as we got to 12 noon, hungry diners started to turn up quite regularly looking for slabs of raw meat (presumably) to sate their ritualistic village urges.  I'd been playing one of my fave pub games "Where are the gents?" not realising the door was right behind me which was typical of my pub toilet luck over the years!  At least the landlady found it amusing.  I'd rung for a taxi deciding a bus back to Bedford to come 3 miles west of where I already was didn't make much sense.

About to enter first pub of the day, note the "pub & grill" sign (I sat in bottom right window)

And what a good taxi it was too, GPS Taxis of Rushden deserve a plug.  The lady on the phone told me I'd have to pay for the call out too, they stuck to the cost quoted, and the driver was a very nice chap even if he did once see Madonna in Roudhay Park (performing on stage, I think).  

716.  Bedford Arms, Souldrop

If I thought Riseley was quite remote, Souldrop was incredibly so.  The rain was pouring down by now but I entered a much more basic pub to a welcoming smell of a sooty coal fire.  Is there a better pub smell?  There were a fair few customers at the bar, and the young landlord insisted on giving me a try of 'Trench Dog' even though I told him I'd risk it!  I'm not sure if this was to try and win staff points or because he thought it was disgusting.  Anyway, it seemed like a solid English bitter which was my first try of a beer from Kettering's Thirsty Kite brewery.  Rushden taxi?  Kettering brew?  I'm so North Western, I'm practically Northants!  The fire looked inviting but two women were sat there annoyingly, but I smiled at them and tried to look wet and uncomfortable and within two minutes, they'd moved.  Result!  The pub may well have had a nice garden and conservatory, but this was surely the only place to be on a grey October lunchtime, any food element was not as 'in your face' as in the last pub.  Before long, I was joined by John and Diane - two members of a walking, adventuring group not taking part today due to John's bad back.  After their obligatory lesson in BRAPA, John felt guilty for drinking Nastro Azzuro and I couldn't hide my disappointment, shareholder or not!  They do things like abseiling which is impressive, though give me pub trekking any day.  As the walkers started to arrive, it was time for me to brave the rain for pub three.....

A pint of Kettering's finest in front of the fire in the Bedford Arms

The pound shop hat proved to be the best pound spent of the day as I walked 2 miles to Sharnbrook, it didn't take too long along typically dodgy country roads and the sun had even come out by the time I arrived.  My soul had been lifted by Souldrop and I was expecting big things....

717.  Swan with Two Nicks, Sharnbrook

I was glad to see this pub added to the 2016 GBG as it linked up Souldrop and Felmersham in my mind.  But it lacked a traditional pub homeliness of the last two, lighter and airier with the main problem being a table of ten studenty geeks who seemed to specialise in science, maths and technology.  It was a bit like listening to an English pilot remake of the Big Bang Theory but without the humour.  One bit that made me laugh, one girl said "they say you should be nice to the techhy geeks in your class because they're the ones who'll be your bosses one day!"  Everyone laughed in agreement but with no sense of the fact that they were in fact, these future bosses.  Of course, none of this was the pub's fault, and the barman who served me was friendly and very good, whilst other staff buzzed around clearing away plates and stuff.  The beer range was a bit disappointing, but a Charles Wells Eagle IPA at least gave me opportunity to but into action an Untappd check-in I'd been rehearsing on the train journey.  By the time a young smart waistcoated man came in and started stressing out on his mobile phone, I realised by set expression in here was a scowl.  I tried to relax but I couldn't even get a phone signal to switch off from what was happening around me.  

Bidding farewell to Sharnbrook as I set about walking to Felmersham

The key to the next leg of my journey was a quick march along more country lanes to my next village so I had 30 mins in the pub and time to get the 15:01 bus back to Bedford.  It worked out well.

718.  Sun Inn, Felmersham

A recent pub of the year winner, I recognised the young landlady and hubbie from the pictures of them winning awards on the North Beds CAMRA website, and I was served a magnificent pint Hart No 9 from somewhere in Northamptonshire.  Grapefruit tastic.  The pub had a thatched roof which was a nice quirk and to show my limited knowledge of thatched roofs, I was worried the rain might be a problem!  It wasn't of course.  Anyway, this pub was all about the skittles!  I'd seen an ancient 'hood' skittles table in Souldrop, I'd seen one in Broom a few months ago, both looking a bit lonely, so it was nice to see the entire pub giving this one a bit of hammer!  I sat in the corner, behind the arm of the 'thrower' and I got thoroughly engrossed in it - glad no one asked me to have a go.  The pub dog did fence me in by laying across the floor, so my hopes of having a snack from my bag were a no go.  The best player from what I could see was the oldest man in the pub, I think he's probably been playing it for about 100 years and there was lots of 'banter' about his age but it didn't put him off.  Christine had text me from pre-match Hull City to say she used to compete in this pub's skittles league in 1982, my fun quirky fact for the day.  And as I watched, I figured this free entertainment was better than watching Hull City v Birmingham.  And I still remembered to catch my bus.

Skittle action at the Sun in Felmersham.

The bus was delayed, and arrived at a different part of the bus station to what I was expecting so I might not have made the Renhold connection anyway, not that I was really looking for it by this stage.  After a quick nip to the loo in Bedford Arms (the Bedford version with live music going on!), I walked up Newnham Street way where I'd stayed overnight on my inaugural BRAPA trip in April 2014.  

719.  Castle, Bedford

And it was nice to be back to in the town where it all officially began, this pub winning one of those 'most improved pubs of the year' awards which I suspect, as a wise person once said, all depends what standard you are improving from!  As it was, it felt like a suitable dark and dingy (in a good way) street corner local with low ceiling, three Young's ales (I went for the 'Special' just to knock me out) and nice townie hubbub.  In fact, an egg-chasing semi-final was on so the locals were around it like cat-nip to a moggy.  With all the focus on this, I finally felt comfortable enough to tuck into my eclectic selection of food I'd brought (ever eaten half an avocado with a spoon in a pub before, I have) and I dozed gently whilst people got excited about all these New Zealand and South African's chasing an egg around and pretended I was semi interested, Bedford really is a Rugby Union town.  The staff were good, even looking expectantly at me as if I might order another drink.  A solid addition to the Bedford real ale scene though.

As it was, I decided to give up on any vague Renhold hopes and get back into London early having had bad experiences in the past!  Time had marched on anyway and the sun was setting on what had been a classic BRAPA day.  I shunned a Parcel Yard pint in favour of a sandwich and drink, and didn't even call in at York Tap/Maltings/Brigantes so must have been in disciplined mood.

Leaving Bedford as the sun goes down.

Coming Next

Just the one pub off my 720 target by the end of October so I'll achieve that easily barring some kind of mathematical tragedy.  Knottingley on Wednesday is having to be shelved however, but it's all go for my Hallowe'en BRAPA special on Thursday, plus a trip to Milton Keynes on Saturday to end a productive October with hopefully three new pub ticks. 

Bedfordshire (42) meanwhile, has gone back above East Yorkshire (39) into 3rd place in the BRAPA league table, I think only three more trips are needed and I'm looking to finish it in January.  This means that I should be able to start on Berkshire in Feb 2016 with a trip to the highly anticipated heritage pub at Aldworth, plus a few others west of Reading. 

My main other focus will be ploughing on with North Yorkshire (Saturdays) and West Yorkshire (Tuesdays) but in the winter, random trips to Mansfield, Chorlton cum Hardy and somewhere in the North East are also on my radar.

Keep on BRAPping, Si

BRAPA : the archives (331-340)

"It's Monday night, it's archive night, it's Simey's break from ale!" as a brilliant 'live' album by the now defunct Amazing Royal Crowns almost started off.  These next ten pubs see more reminiscing from Wakefield before trips to places like Derby, Plymouth and Durham.  Stay tuned!

331.  Hop, Wakefield

One of the modern clutch of Ossett pubs with a pleasing smattering of Rat beer to boot, but lacking the warm pubby hubbub of some of the more traditional pubs (Three Pigeons, Fox in York etc) that they take on.  Still, for a fourth pub of the day, me and Jig were well in our stride when we came here on 30.1.14 and probably at our peak, so very pleased with the ales and thin bricked interior down a little cobbled lane.  It certainly had a bit more character than the Sheffield version, Live music seemed to be the order of the day, with bands setting up and sound-checking even in this mid afternoon weekday setting.  I was quite hoping we'd be treated to an impromptu gig.  I chose a very nice guest ale, Cascade by Liverpool Organic and had a rant about Scousers always being 'victims' which less face it, is often the case.  Though I love that city for ale even more than Wakey!  Sister Lu and her Wakey-boyf Andy Dunn have seen live music here, had nights out, and Andy even saw Leatherface play here were the compere mischievously referred to them as a band from "Newcastle" just to wind up Frankie Stubbs, which is brave to say the least.  I'd come back here.

332.  Harry's Bar, Wakefield

A bit like Bull & Fairhouse, my memories of our visit here are a bit hazy but Jig, in his proudest pre-BRAPA moment, read in a local CAMRA mag about a 'pre-emptive' tick called the Old Print Works which was down the same alleyway as this pub, so we did both together.  There was a post-work hustle and bustle here and it was quite a tight squeeze in the small bar area, where I had an Acorn guest called Drop Kick which Jig described as a "caramel pale" but I can't remember.  To put a bit more 'meat on the bones' of this archive entry, I visited here Tuesday just gone 6th October 2015 and the interior came flooding back, with a nice brick and wood feel, a real fire, lots of ales and reasonably helpful staff.  It also apparently has a great view of a famous 99-arch railway viaduct.  It does have an underlying "unfriendly local" feel though, and though it was quieter, the only good seat meant I had to squeeze past this old man.  I did so with typical BRAPA good humour "oooh, don't mind me, I'll not disturb you" but got nothing back at all!  And then his friend arrived and they talked about farming equipment so I glared at them in a pitiful way.  However, I couldn't stay mad, my Five Towns ale was, despite the unprepossessing pump clip and name, one of the most delightful citrus beers I've ever tried.  I used to think I was loyal to this brewery due to their connection to family friend Charlie, but the past year has told me they are brilliant, though careful because they specialise in plus 6% beers I notice.

Return visit to Harry's on 6.10.15

333.  Brewery Tap, Peterborough

19th Jan 2013 and on that snowy lunchtime where the game was amazingly ON, me and Dad (buoyed by an excellent morning pub session in the Ostrich) made our apologies to our Welly gang friends and headed to the Brewery Tap,  After all, we both dislike the Barge but others insisted on going, but I was intrigued to see where my possible favourite brewery Oakham brews it's ales.  We were a bit skepitcal at first as the building in like a huge warehouse and in temperatures like this, we thought it'd be a case of keeping coats and scarves on.  However, our first abiding memory was not so much the great ales but the fact the radiators around us generated enough heat to get comfy!  It's the little things.  Now don't ask me if I want Thai food, my one Oakham turn off.  We must've loved it as we were in here after the match briefly too!  However, our favourite time came before a pre-season friendly in July of the same year, where Manny Figueroa scored one of the best Hull City goals ever!  Pre-match was equally amazing, we pretty much had the huge place to ourselves as I worked my way up through the pre-season gears - which went something like 'JHB', 'Citra', 'Scarlet Macaw', 'Inferno', 'Bishops Farewell'.  Whenever passing through Peterborough station, we always can see the brew pub from the train and wonder if we have time to jump out for a quick pint! 

"I'll drink on my owwwwn, I'll drink on my owwwwn, I'm Simey Everitt, I'll drink on my owwwwn"

334.  Hole in the Wall, Torquay

After many seasons of "love" for Babbacombe, the Crown & Sceptre, and crusty bread and Bel Paese cheese out on the seafront, admiring some of Agatha Christie's inspiration points, me and Dad took the brave step to do a "Torquay proper" day on our trip there on 18th Oct 2003.  It was a mixed experience, the pub being the plus.  After a nice walk round the harbour where we saw a Hull City fan (Spit!  How dare he?), we went to my ancient (1540) designated GBG pub.  I can remember it very clearly despite the passing of time.  The floor was cobbled and uneven, the first time I'd seen such a weird floor in a pub.  The landlord was a friendly chap, very impressed when he refused to give us our pints because it was the end of the barrel!  None of this "try it and let me know" or the "the last pint isn't always bad" bollocks we got off the barmaid in York's Red Lion.  Sad, 12 years into the future of a so-called real ale revolution and this 2003 experience still remains the best example.  Being pre-smoking ban, we found a nice "Roy Castle Clean Air" room to sit in, with a model of a toilet that you had to put coins in and 'flush' if anyone smoked or swore or something!  It was quite quirky,  Then the CLF (Canadian Lesbian Front) came in looking for lunch and a quaint British pub but they didn't disturb us much.  Nice pub, but we still reverted to our Babbacombe roots the following season.  

335.  Brunswick Inn, Derby

This was war!  Me and Dad had fallen in love with the Flowerpot pub in April 2006 having met the Irvin's there for some amazing ale and scran, and let's be honest, why would we want to go anywhere else?  However, people with a surname that rhymes with "Bandroo" then insisted on putting constant pressure on us to get ourselves to the supposedly even more wonderful Brunswick.  Dad and me are of the same ilk, the more someone insists, the more we'll resist, especially when a nice Flowerpot man (not Bill or Ben) with a Morris Minor fetish told us the Brunswick was in decline.  "Hah, take that Bandroos!"   And sure enough, it was soon out of the GBG.  But you can't avoid these places for ever, and after other pubs had been trialed and the hoo-hah had died down, we were probably more open to the idea of going.  Especially as 21st December 2012 (a Friday night game before Christmas on Doomsday where my morning train hit a horse!) was one of the most impractical days for a football match ever.  Work wouldn't let me leave early so I hot-footed it to Derby on a packed train with my selection of Morrison's bottles, frantically texting Dad.  We had no time to stray too far from the station, and I was shocked when he told me he'd been up at Brunswick with Jarvo and the full quota of Gooligans!  Luckily, he'd discovered a quiet upstairs bar where we returned for two lovely pints before kick off.  It was like a working man's club, Big Dave came in and sat with us for a bit, totally shocked of course to hear we'd never been before!  We won 2-1, a just reward for a traumatic day and one of the proudest Hull City performances I have ever witnessed against a very good Derby side.  A tough but memorable experience.

336.  Silk Mill Cider and Ale House, Derby

22nd Feb 2011 and Dad parked in the dodgiest public car park ever on this Tuesday afternoon (the man kept calling us "duck" (obviously) and admitted our car still might get stolen!).  As we crossed the road, we saw a huge banner stuck on the front of this pub with slogans like "we are a fantastic real ale pub selling tonnes of ales and we are brilliant so please visit us now as we'll get in the GBG one day".  Not quite that, but it was enough for me and Dad to be convinced to tentatively step inside.  It was quite a spartan, bare boarded set up, it felt like a recently opened huge micro pub but the beers were very impressive!  Sadly, we left to stick to my pre-match plan which involved 3 or 4 pubs which weren't quite this good.  We returned the following season for a couple on a busy 19th November 2012 with some of the Welly gang, it now was carpetted, light and airy and had a much warmer feel.  The beers were still dispensed from huge casks like some crazy mini beer fest, and Dad felt the effect of the Thornbridge Jaipur but was it the beer that was off or the fact it was 5.9% Hmmm, I know my theory on the matter.  Again we moved on to a heaving Brewery Tap, again we would have been better staying here.  Best pre-match football pub I've done in this amazing ale town.

337.  Thistle Park Tavern, Plymouth

If I could locate my little notepad which, in December 2006 only, I recorded my pub experiences in what I suppose was a prehistoric version of this blog(!), I could tell you what I drank here and exactly what my views were.  It was definitely some locale and although my Friday night walk around town had started slowly, the pubs got better and this was my favourite of the night.  A local woman at the bar even felt my cheeks (not my bum) when I walked in to test the outdoor temperature.  I was soon chatting to her, the staff and a former Bristol Rovers player, who seemed interested in BRAPA even if it was 8 years too early!  We got talking on local pubs in Plymouth real ales and it was all very jolly, in a tiny intimate little basic place.  I'm not even sure it was GBG listed, I think I made the decision as a result of that "football grounds and real ale away days" book that lasted for 2 happy seasons.  I was conscious of the need to leave before 9:30pm though, before the Barbican swing bridge closed and I presumably would have been stranded for ever (not really, you just walk around it!)

338.  Plume of Feathers Inn, Princetown

27th August 2005 and it was Hound of the Baskervilles-tastic as we stayed overnight high up on Dartmoor opposite the jail following a brilliant Stuart Elliot winner.  We sat in a cosy stone built lounge bar and had our evening meal and a few pints of ales from Dartmoor, Otter etc etc, it felt pretty much like our own private room.  Briefly, the landlord brought a bus load of American tourists in who he was telling ghost stories to.  When the bus drove off, he came in to join us, fag in hand, saying "hah, you can tell them anything!" and then proceeded to tell us a dodgy long winded joke about a naked man who got locked out of his window in the rain but was waterproof cos he had a condom on.  I wondered if it was Andy Payton.  Anyway, joke aside, a great pub as we crossed the car park in the fog to our accommodation wondering if a devil dog was going to murder us.  The cold air meant I'd developed a chest infection by the time we got back to York, and I had a week off work, so I have quite happy memories about this pub!

339.  Colpitts Hotel, Durham

Even though they are evil feudal bastards who act like Victorian landowners, I have a real soft spot for Sam Smith's and am always happy to see their pubs in the GBG, because although the beer range may be predictable, they own/refurb some cracking buildings.  And this is one of the best.  I first came in on my first real ale Durham trip with JW2 (June 2002?) and it was dark so later in the day as we saw a University lecturer slumped across a table asleep whilst some students tried not to look embarrassed.  The pub has a really old feel, and a strange shaped room, perhaps a fire, but it left an impression on me.  When I had a more recent JW2 Durham trip, on the same day my sister moved into her dodgy flat with the dribbly shower, so am saying perhaps July 2011, it was our second pub of the day and it seemed unchanged in the last 9 years, which made sense as it probably isn't much changed in 100!  I actually can't remember the details as clearly here, maybe feeling it had more atmosphere on a dark evening - but you can bet I probably drank OBB!

340.  New Inn, Durham

Wow, there are times when I am ticking off the GBG pubs for the new year and an entry makes my eyebrows raise with surprise.  This was the joint winner of the 'eyebrow' category for the 2016 GBG (other winner to be reviewed in our next edition).  When I first went to stay with JW2 at his homestead in High Shincliffe, we walked into Durham with the main intent on going to 'rock' pub, the Angel (fizzy Theakstons but pool and great jukebox - we had no standards in those days!)  This pre-dated our love or even knowledge of real ale of course, so I'm putting a reserve estimate of July 2000 on this, thinking it might have been my North East return after we'd finished Uni.  The walk in to Durham took us past a pub John knew well, it had been better in the past and he was making apologies for it before we'd even entered!  It was now a "yellow card" "Scream" student pub, where better to get a pint of cold flavourless Guinness?  It had a good atmosphere nonetheless, and i think we got a game of pool and perhaps a go on a quiz machine.  On my other visit here, more of a lunchtime setting in the sun, we found it even more studenty with egg chasing toffs having taken over the place - what was worse, the pool table was covered over so they could use it for their bloody mass of sandwiches and other post-rugby snacks they didn't deserve!  Grrr, we sat in the corner and shuddered.  I may need a return visit to experience it from an ale point of view (see also Ivy House, Sunderland).

So there we have it, some top memories there.  Still about 30/40 to go before we start logging them in a spreadsheet so we can put them in date order.

See you next Monday, Si