BRAPA - Awkward in Auckley

Elaborate tilted jam jar fun at the Eagle and Child

After a rubbish day at work, I needed my South Yorkshire midweek evening BRAPA to be kind to me.  Like all good "SY" places beginning with the letter "A", it required a bus from the lower reaches of Doncaster's depressing Frenchgate centre which I got to see at rush hour for the first time.

Donny bus station had a slight air of menace and think the lack of soothing bus station muzak (see Keighley and Huddersfield) may have been the cause.  It is also worth noting that 84.3% of Donny girls aged 14-21 have greasy hair.  Not my opinion, a scientific fact.  Bus 91 then confused me by turning up earlier than the scheduled Robin Hood airport one.  

All I knew about this pub prior to arrival was that Mark from work (my Donny area contact) once played in a football match away to the Eagle & Child on a pitch behind the pub but despite pressing him, he could not remember the score.

25 minutes later, and with dusk well and truly falling on a cold night, I was trying to cross a busy main road with a friendly couple who'd 'alighted' with me, with Tom's idea of me wearing fluorescent strips and bright colours  ringing very true.  We made it across eventually, the couple also going into the pub to 'have a meal' (spit!)

Note the silhouetted bus couple just ahead of me.

814.  Eagle & Child, Auckley

In the confusion of after work drinkers and diners (and a 'restaurant' i,e. side pub room which no-one wanted to use), I didn't spot the guest ales but luckily a £3.30 Tim Taylor Landlord went down a treat.  The staff were all smiling friendly young females, and really put in the effort with the customers, one who mostly stood out reminded me of a pretty version of WWF legend the Ultimate Warrior.  I found a totally empty side bar with bench seating and the guest beers, it was a no-brainer to sit in here, but even then there was a sign saying that your own food cannot be eaten on the premises - thanks Adolf!  As has been discussed recently on pubby Twitter blogs, the 'jam jars' used to display the colour of the (cloudy version of) ales were the largest and most grand I've ever seen.  Interestingly, or not, whilst the Abbeydale Moonshine and (gorgeous) Stancill India Ruby had them, the John Smith's Cask did not.  The locals as well as staff had seemed a friendly bunch (I was facing the door so was a glorified meeter and greeter) but one older man who came in with wife and daughter told me to "get back in the kitchen!"  I realised not having had time to change from my white work shirt and suit trousers meant I looked like one of my most despised race of people .... the pub waiter!!  I protested my innocence, I mean would they really sit there with a GBG and highlighter pen on their breaks?  One of the local drinker men stood at the bar then couldn't find a barmaid, so nimbly leant across to pour his own Smith's Smoothflow and no-one batted an eyelid.  Proper South Yorkshire, but I'd like to have seen him look so nonchalant using a hand pull.   It was bus time. 

View of the bar.

Except it wasn't.  30 mins later and it still hadn't arrived!  No phone signal meant my plan to ring for a taxi was thwarted, so all I could do was return to the pub for a slash and a swift half of Moonshine.  I vented my spleen to the barmaids but it was an old couple behind me who heard and informed me there'd been an accident and huge delays - nightmare.  

Ever the optimist, I acted as though the next hourly bus 19:36 would be on time and luckily, it turned up bang on schedule.  And who should rush to get on at the last minute but the couple I'd arrived with, full up from their meal and blissfully unaware of the traffic and 18:36 heartache?!  Life isn't fair.

And back at the Donny end, I had further delays getting back to York, eventually home about 9:15pm.  A lot of effort for one pub, but it was a good one & good experience.  If this is a blueprint for all Berkshire pubs (which isn't logical I know), I'll be well away!  

My private secluded drinkers room in Auckley.

Pub Survey

I recently did an unscientific survey on my blog to try and find out what you all think is the most important factor to enjoy a pub.  In a slightly surprising but pleasing result, STAFF came out on top and I certainly think good, friendly staff are an underrated factor in pub enjoyment.  Beer Quality, Pub Hubbub and Atmosphere were runner up categories.  Interestingly, nobody who responded thought Beer Range or having FOOD or games in a pub significantly enhanced their enjoyment.

In my next survey, I'll be asking about the people you drink with in a bid to find if the type of company you keep during your pub time makes a difference to your pubbing experience.  Results at the end of this month.  

Si

BRAPA - Swiggin' in Wigan

Jam jar pub fun at the Berkeley (see pub 813)

Aspull was next up alphabetically for Greater Manchester, though in truth, the next GBG could easily 'relocate' the three pubs to Haigh, New Springs and 'Twixt Macron Stadium & Springfield Park. It all started though at Hindley after some excitement involving TB and Manc Oxford Road.

Me & Tom arrive at this little gem in Hindley

808. Hare & Hounds, Hindley

Like Armthorpe on Wednesday, the best pub of the day proved to be the first.  Ultra traditional, it had some great beers from Wigan's Allgates, a bored barmaid with immaculate make-up and a Wigan facelift (hairstyle), a vaping old man with a terrible cough which meant that we entered through a fug of sweet smelling smoke, very much like being on 'Stars in Your Eyes'.  Dad had wondered if the smoking ban just hadn't reached this part of the world.  We sat in a lovely lounge room which screamed "YOU ARE IN THE NORTH WEST!" with a fantastic 'Smoke Room' stain-glassed window, which investigation led us to realise that it had previously been attached to a door, or at least some other part of the pub.  As I went back to the bar to get a swift half as we waited for a taxi, I made an old local in a Motty style Sheepskin jacket jump out of his skin, for he was watching iPhone footage of a fork lift truck accident complete with blood curdling screams, which was unnerving our barmaid and her still stoic expression was wavering somewhat.  Incidentally, the local CAMRA mag we picked up was called 'Swiggin' in Wigan' - best name yet!

Pints of Allgates in the Smoke Room, perfect! 

Hindley Taxis can be best described as 'not terribly tardy', 'silent' and 'quite efficient' as we were soon being beeped at by traffic on the Bolton Road as we had our 'photo shoot' of pub number two.

I had my reservations about this place - ha ha ha

809.  Gerrard Arms, Aspull

Dad's horrified expression on entering here said it all, the revenge of the restaurant disguised as an old fashioned pub.  Well, that was our initial thought and it's no exaggeration to say that EVERY table was bedecked with condiments, menus and holders for knives and forks.  These 'holders' soften the blow for me, it's when the knives and forks are laid out with a place-mat that it hits hardest!  I decided to lay our cards on the table to the affable young barman about being here for drinks only, and that was a turning point.  He was later asking us if we needed anything else, how was the beer quality etc etc - wow, to be treated like first class citizens in a diners pub is indeed a rare treat, and this barman must be an early candidate for 'staff of the year', great rounded Lancs accent too.  It even took the edge of an electronic blackboard 'screen' offering specials - perhaps the most hideous thing I saw all day (and I walked through Manchester at 9pm!) Just goes to show how important people are in pubs.  We sat in the furthest corner under the horse racing on a table that was (like most) reserved but only from 6:30pm.  I thought it was good to show times, but as Dad argued, was it necessary when 6:30pm was so far off?  They could "take all the shite off our table" I think was a direct quote.  Still, we could've been planning on a 6 hour session here.  All in all though, a positive experience due solely to being treated well!  We don't ask much.  

Watching the cars go by, at the Gerrard A**s

Our bus was a teeny bit delayed but we were soon 'alighting' in the Haigh area of Aspull.  Typical BRAPA this, the minute you relax and think all is well with the world, it comes back to bite you on the ball-sack.  Well, it said 2pm opening on Whatpub, it was nearer 2:30pm now.  

We decided to cut our losses and get the next bus (every 15 mins allegedly) to our next pub BUT it didn't turn up either!  Was Haigh on strike today?  I engaged a miserable old man at the bus stop in conversation who admitted the pub sometimes just opened the back door when Wigan were at home as they were today.  Well, for the love of BRAPA, i just HAD to check!  The guy said "dunno why you wanna go anyway, it's shite .... Gerrard Arms is much better."  Errrm, whatever old man!! 

As we walked back to the pub, the bus was rounding the corner and Dad looked on, wistfully at the bus that might have been.  Me and Tom are made of more adventurous stuff but I knew I'd be in for a bollocking IF the pub was actually shut.   But the gamble paid off as we saw the landlord opening just as we were coming down the street, phew!  It was 3pm.

810.  Victoria, Aspull

"You were lucky I was just opening!" declared the friendly landlord, and he wasn't wrong.  He explained how he'd been tinkering with his opening times for a while now and decided 3pm on a Saturday suited him best.  After all, he said, he knew his locals drinking habits and he's got to cater for them first and foremost, even if they do drink John Smith's Smoothflow!  And right on cue, one such man walked in at that moment!  We were soon chatting on BRAPA and pubs, his wife was confused by a missed call she'd received but I realised it was from me wondering why the pub hadn't been open so I cleared that up.  This was another cosy intimate no frills pub with some superb ales, again from Allgates, perhaps the pub didn't quite have the class of Hindley earlier on.  Mr Smoothflow is a local pub expert and was not holding much hope for our next pub being open either, so he told me when on the bus, look out of the right hand side, if you see a big white door, pub is shut, and if you see a black hole, it means the pub is open so press the bell to get off!  Top local knowledge.  But, opening times, the curse of the pub explorer!

Happy times, seconds before we realised the pub was closed! 

The next bus thankfully did arrive and with our eyes peeled, we could see the pub WAS open so Tom pressed the bell and we bid Dad farewell who wanted to be home in time for tea.

811.  Crown, Aspull

And he didn't miss much to be fair, although the couple running it were very friendly and interested in visitors such as ourselves, it never felt GBG quality to me.  Jennings Cumberland (yawn) was the only ale I could see, better quality than I've had in York, apparently Prospect Silver Tally was on too but he couldn't the pump clip.  The pub was cold despite a not-too-raging fire in the far corner, which as Tom said, didn't really belong there.  Entertainment was in the form of a Mum, Dad and daughter who had heated discussions about things like who was buying the next round and the perils of modern technology.  Good news came through that Hull City were 2-0 up, and I smuggled a celebratory pork pie from my bag.  And that was as good as it got. 

Black hole rather than white door means pub is open! 

Another walk and bus took us back into Wigan central, and after Tom stocked up on Morrison's Pain Au Chocolat, we were ready for pub number five.  

812.  John Bull Chophouse, Wigan

And we were both suitably impressed by this quirky little side street pub.  It was bustling with a Saturday evening crowd and the bar was situated in a tight corner, where I was served by a man strangely not wearing many clothes, maybe this was Wigan's Canal Street area?  Still, I'd have to say the Symphonic Ale by Thwaites' was pint of the day, best I've had from that brewery too.  There was an amazing old style jukebox, and as we went upstairs, it had a hidden pool room though sadly not big enough to hold more than one group, so we stood on the balcony eating Pain Au Chocolat and reviewing the football results.  Hull City had won, hurrah!  An excitable group of pool players started an enforced karaoke session and you could tell things were warming up for a crazy Saturday night in Wigan town.  

View from the balcony at John Bull's Chophouse

813.  Berkeley, Wigan

Bouncers on a BRAPA pub?  Crikey, it really was Saturday night now as we popped in here via the North Western railway station.  This seemed to have quite a'Spoonsy feel to me but don't think it was, vast layout with a big screen showing N*wcastle getting hammered by Chelsea and Diego Costa's stupid mask, but somehow the pub felt real and kind of homely despite everything.  Staff were very on the ball, and I was soon enjoying a pint of Panner's Gold from the excellent Greyhawk, more common to East Yorkshire than here but not sure where they are from.  Unsurprisingly for a pub like this, they had those little off putting jam jars so you can see what colour your ale is, well, in "cloudy off form" anyway - you wouldn't wanna drink those jars.  I'd just been talking to Retired Martin about this subject, so fitting I should see it.  My drinking speed was seriously dropping off anyway, but Tom was spurring me on and as Andros Townsend got a late consolation, everyone yawned and it was time to go back to Manchester.  

Me hanging with the bouncers at the Berkeley

So, that was a superb and productive BRAPA day, let's ignore the monumental train farce in Manchester trying to get back over t'hills but all's well that ends well.  Let's hope Hull City get promoted and we can have plenty more NFFD's (Non football football days) in Greater Manchester, Lancashire and Merseyside later this year! 

Back on the South Yorkshire trail on Tuesday, then our Berkshire debut next Saturday.  I can't think of a better hobby. 

Si

BRAPA - Outer Doncaster (warning - glamourous pub content!)

Mr Boilerman was here earlier than expected on Wednesday (12 noon) so I should really be thanking the lady who randomly decided to have a lunchtime bath, meaning he couldn't sort her plumbing out (it's gone Confessions of a Boilerman already!) which in turn meant he could sort my boiler first, in time for this bonus afternoon BRAPA trip......

With West Yorkshire complete and no more of North Yorkshire possible on weekday evenings, I've decided to focus on the deep South, perhaps interspersed with a bit of East Lancs/Greater Manc to see if I can complete SY before the 2017 GBG comes out.  And I started at the beginning.....(well, not including Arksey, done in 2014).

After an 'interesting' journey from Donny's bus depot where I passed B&B's with names like 'The Caribbean', I avoided the rush hour traffic (if Doncaster has a rush hour, it is hard to tell), avoided an old man who sounded like Jimmy Savile trying to talk to me about guide dogs "Now then young man", and avoided some shifty looking street youths who all resembled Adam Johnson, to arrive in Armthorpe in beautiful clear blue sunshine!  Phew, that's a sentence you'll never here again.

A difficult start, but feel the quality, at the Wheatsheaf

804.  Wheatsheaf, Armthorpe

Quite a grand pub from the outside, it was the old cliche of "walking into someone's front room" (always the best) inside and as I ordered my Sharp's Atlantic, the landlord sat behind me murmured 'good choice lad!'  I was immediately given the 10p CAMRA discount with the landlady's "every little helps" comment sounding a bit supermarkety.  Sadly, the cloudy ale didn't clear and my expression on the 'tangy sourness' said it all, and she offered to change it no fuss.  Even better, the landlord said that if I was willing to wait, they'd put their Purity UBU on and bring it over to me, so I retired to a wonderful 70's style armchair in the sun.  So this was why the only two other customers, old dears no less, were drinking cans of Red Stripe!  You don't get that in York's Pivni I tell you.  The beer when it arrived was perfect quality, sometimes you have to have a bad experience to have a really good one.  And you could tell this pub seriously cared about it's ale.  Or did they just think I was a CAMRA inspector? A bit of drama then as a nice dog got attacked by an evil one in the pub car park, landlady threatening to bar the owner of the evil dog, but it was all done in jest.  Nice dog incidentally was given a free bowl of water, but would rather drink from the dirty puddle outside, showing that 'real' water beats 'craft' water every time!  Perhaps. 

I trotted off up to the next place, Edenthorpe only 1.5 miles and thankfully, a subway allowed me to cross the tricky looking A road.  Subway of the year contender for sure.  Edenthorpe was full of 'professional' dog walkers who I nodded to as a hot-footed it past Tesco across the road to my next pub.

No Garden of Eden at the Eden Arms

805.  Eden Arms, Edenthorpe

The first thing that hit me here was a huge sign declaring this was an Ember Inn, a chain which I'm led to believe is 'not the best' though I'm open minded and also this was never going to be as bad as the Dog & Gun in Wolverhampton.  I entered an almost Happy Harvester type large room, not unpubby but you know the type, 'open plan but partitioned', 'furniture that doesn't belong in a pub', 'eye watering cushion design'.  The young barmaid, a nice lass, was having to be patient as the local nutter was telling her a rambling story about a stolen charity box.  She offered me a (better) CAMRA discount but twice in a row is a BRAPA first!  They obviously like to reward ale drinkers in these parts.  Sadly, the earlier exchange meant she couldn't subtract 20p from £3 which she blamed on a 'brainstorm'.  I sat on the lowest settee imaginable, it felt like someone was about to bring me Sushi and I spent the next 27.5 minutes enjoying a pint of Abbeydale Moonshine, allbeit in pretty much total blandness as women sat around drinking white wine and children shuffled around aimlessly.

For the love of ale eh?  Get those ales racked and ready to go then! 

So not terrible, but just a bit lame.  Onwards and northwards as I walked another mile up to Kirk Sandall with dusk now falling on this productive start to South Yorkshire midweeks.....

806.  Glasshouse, Kirk Sandall

As the GBG informed me, this pub used to have a bar made entirely of glass, "alas, no more" and isn't it sad when they strive to knock any quirky character out of pubs?  It reminded me of my 2014 trip to Doncaster's White Swan which once boasted "the tallest bar in the country", alas, no more there either.  They've kept glass in the name, and on the premises i,e, they have windows!  Otherwise, it was another quite sanitised establishment, though two rare Theakston's ales were on the bar so I sampled both, the staff were young and efficient bringing food out to old people.  I'm not a fan of beer blogging but I will say this, Theakston's bore me and their Noah's Ark (10p of each pint goes to help flood victims in an admirable stance) was cloudy and ironically, you might say, not a patch on a pint of Sam's OBB!  And no, it wasn't a Saison before you ask.  I initially sat on a very squeaky leather chair too near the bar area, felt exposed, but a quick wander revealed a more pubby room which smelt of Leeds Beer Festival's pie and peas.  Wonderful.  This was much more like a South Yorkshire pub but my peace didn't last long as a large family descended, and an excitable young lad beat a strange man called Andy at pool, so I moved back to squeaky chair territory and had a swift half of Theakston's 'Paradise' (it wasn't)  before the train back to Donny.

The more pubby area of the Glasshouse

Back in Donny, I had decided to strategically leave my remaining Donny 'ticks' for another day but the train to York was cancelled so I suddenly was 'forced' into an extra pint, how sad! 

807.  Gatehouse, Doncaster

It took a while to find this peculiar 'Spoons, but that was because the strange pedestrianised area it was in was not showing up on any of my maps!  Priory Walk or something.  It was oh so quiet, so different from your usual main street 'Spoons rabble and I could only describe it to entering a deserted, haunted theme park.  I've never tip toed in and whispered my drinks order in a 'Spoons before, but it was so peaceful, well eerie.  And before you could say 'Scooby Doo', a very thin man who sounded like Shaggy (yes, THAT one) pushed in, said "Zoiks" and returned a pint of lager which was apparently bottom of the barrel.  Lager drinkers complaining on quality, always makes me chuckle!  Anyway, it had a canteen style look to the seating near the bar, but opened up into a larger place behind with some nice bench style settee seating.  My ale incidentally, from local Dukeries, was my pint of the day and the customer's were all old men grumbling about what was on the news.  A strange but not unpleasant JDW experience.

"Hey Scoob old buddy, old pal .... my lager is off!" 

Luckily, my next train was on time and I was back in York to watch a bit of painful WBA v Peterborough penalties with a chicken kiev near a nice warm boiler!  A good day in all, I've now done 40 South Yorkshire pubs in total but lots still to do so hoping to crack on next Tuesday.

Until "outer Wigan" in 12.5 hours time, see you soon!  

Si

BRAPA - Sunderland

Inside the Avenue - see pub 801.

It was a long overdue pubby return to the city where I spent my uni years from 1997-2000, just before they started to modernise it with things like a Metro link.

I was joined by two rare BRAPsters, John Watson II (Sunderland's finest, so providing local knowledge) making his first BRAPA outing since June 2014 and Krzb Britain, who specialises in areas just south of York but is a fine navigator.

The trains were a bit delayed but not a bad thing as we'd have only been hanging around til 11am opening time, as we took the Metro from N*wcastle to SSOL (which stands for Sunderland Stadium of Light amazingly) as were soon walking through the Roker area towards the coast.

Despite living here for 3 years, I never really knew this area and was surprised what a nice prom/seafront it was.  Same couldn't 'quite' be said of our first pub.....

799.  Poetic License, Sunderland

We'd been looking for the R Bar (part of the Roker Hotel) but with no signs for it, we walked into the most likely looking place and were greeted by a gaggle of pristine shirted staff who looked like they'd walked out of a Persil challenge ad.  The one with the irritating top-knot on his head told me it was no longer known as the R Bar, and hidden around the corner of the bar were some handpumps, mainly Sonnet which explained the poetic name change.  Like Chester-le-Street's Lambton Worm, this Sonnet 'pub' was geared up for diners (even on a Monday morning in Feb) so we sat on a high stool and I drank an IPA from one of their vase glasses which are annoying.  This isn't Belgian beer.  I like Sonnet ales (especially the Bourbon Milk Stout) but this was a bit lacking in quality, perhaps the pub's fault and watching Football League highlights on a constant loop was sending me into mental turmoil as I started having visions of Joey Barton laughing at me.  Behind some glass was a non-functioning distillery which I'm told should be churning out gin by now.  The place was warm and tried to offer a rustic edge, but ultimately failed.

Krzb and JW2 enjoy a vase of Sonnet at the Poetic License

800.  Harbour View, Sunderland

Just around the corner, it was 'landmark' moment time, with my 800th tick, and a nice one too, with some interesting local grafitti on the wall outside which was to be a theme of our day out.  It looked like your traditional seaside bar, and in my experience, these are usually disappointing, but not here as a friendly young brunette (who may be an early contender for that particular 'award') greeted us and was patient as I took ages choosing from a great range of ales.  I went for a Salopian Lemon Dream, and being brave, didn't ask for a taster.  A few serious old Mackems lined the bar, this was a proper drinkers pub even if it was lacking pub atmosphere.  We sat at the wonkiest table in 2016 BRAPA so far and immediately spilled our drinks, and then our friendly barmaid amused the locals by saying the song currently playing reminded her of "Saturday night at the movies".  Immiediately, the chorus started up "Saturday night at the movies" and she felt a right Charlie!  As if the Roker riviera isn't enough for them, this place tried to add a French feel by naming the toilets 'monsieur' and 'madame' which seemed totally uncalled for, but not to worry, a pub well worth visiting. 

Arriving at the Harbour View

801.  Avenue, Sunderland

Or the @venue as it was hideously titled outside, in fact it looked quite awful from the outside still on the Roker side of the bridge, it was a relief to see it open up into a kind of half Working Man's Club, half airy bar, a bit like a much better version of the Corner Pin in York with some of the best bench seating you'll see, great old Sunderland football memorabilia (we sat underneath Cloughie) but also a pool table and a man with those horrendous hooped earrings giving us evils as I ordered a Chocolate Penny from somewhere obscure in Nottingham which tasted a bit like Bovril!  The barmaid tried to be smiley, but it didn't come as naturally as the last girl looking a bit like she was having a seizure, proof brunettes beat blondes every time.  It was a slow burner this place because the longer I spent here, the more I enjoyed it, a good sign of quality.  One word of caution, the toilet floor was so red in the lunchtime sun, that it looked like I had blood in my urine!  It was that kind of place. 

Trying a Byker Grove opening credits jump at the Avenue.

802.  Butchers Arms, Sunderland

Our longest walk of the day took as back over the bridge, down the side past Panns Bank where I lived in my first Uni year, into an area which had some nice old buildings but a lot of gentrification seemed to have been happening too.  Shame we couldn't have just taken a boat from the Glass Centre, we'd have been there in seconds! I'd heard good things about this pub from it's Clarendon days, and it did have the feel of one of those nice out of the way stand alone pubs, like the Brewers Pride in Osset was the example that sprung to my mind.  Sadly, a complete lack of real ale was to be it's undoing.  The landlord seemed a proper canny Sunderland fellow, friendly enough, saying "no ales on til Wednesday!" no surely this is highly unacceptable and I hope the local CAMRA branch are aware it needs de-guiding swiftly and with style.  JW2 told me about sitting here once drinking ale, watching a live rockabilly band, I could imagine how great that would be, all the more depressing!  Taking further positives, my 6% West Indian Porter was a powerful drink, and the pop videos from 1990 and 1996 offered us much amusement.  We should really have walked straight out, but such a long walk and all needing the loo were reasons we lingered.  It's still a BRAPA tick, I'll just have to incorporate a re-visit into the future  After all, I haven't drunk cask in Ivy House, William Jameson, the Borough, the Royalty etc etc so I still have much unfinished business in Sunderland.  I digress, the toilet was a fascinating disabled closet with what seemed to be a "viewing area" for your friends, and a mop handle to help lock the door.  Quirky.  This pub could have been a gem! 

Silhouetted landlord sits disconsolately alone in his own pub.  No cask ale = no friends.

After the best Gregg's Sausage Roll you will ever find anywhere, we were soon ready for our final pub of the day ......

803.  Dun Cow, Sunderland

In my heritage guide due to the best 'bar back' I've ever seen since the Kingston in Hull (great Mansfield Riding Bitter and Hot Beef Sandwich (RIP)), I was excited about my visit here and it didn't disappoint.  A really friendly and helpful landlord reminded me why I first wanted to go to Uni here (the people of Sunderland on my Open Day) and I gambled on the blackest Saison ever seen, another plus 5% and by now, my drinking speed had slowed considerably and this was one to nurse with it's farmy taste.  Again, the chap admired my "no I don't wanna bloody try before I buy!" hardcore attitude to ale, perhaps.  The pub had great stained glass windowing and was by far the most pubby pub we'd been in all day as the three of us melted into a kind of fuzzy, happy state which meant there was no chance of pushing ourselves to walk to Chesters before the train home.  It actually reminded me I'd also like to visit a heritage pub called the Mountain Daisy in the town but not sure where it is!  

Well, that was more like it.  Time for a MaccyD's and the Grand Central comfort back to York, but don't try and count those table triangles after Saison and West Indies Porter, plus eye spy is difficult in the dark.  No need for York Tap 'injury time', but this was a fine day out and I'm looking forward to my next North East trip already, hope it won't be another year!  

John and Krzb arrive at the Dun Cow for total 5th pint refreshment

I was going to get the South Yorkshire midweek tour up and running today, but it's pancake day and I have a p...p...pancake date at the Green Owl.  But good news, Mr Boilerman (BRAPA Crapper of the Year 2016) might be here at 1pm tomorrow if he's ultra punctual, meaning we may be back on! 

Si 

BRAPA - From Harrogate to Burnley

Arriving at my first pub on Friday evening in Harrogate

Friday nights are probably my least favourite time for a pub night, as the people who go out generally act like it's a once in a life time event for them.  Combine that with a trip to Harrogate, one of the most twee and overrated places in the UK, and the omens weren't good as I boarded the 16:29 slow stopper from Leeds.  The reason for my being here was that I thought I needed to go to watch a band beginning with the letter "D", but as it turned out, I didn't!  (that's a story for another blog).

Always glad to be proved wrong, I ended up really enjoying my first BRAPA Friday evening ......

 

796.  Major Tom's Social, Harrogate

"Ground control to Major Tom" and all that Bowie bollocks (too soon?), I walked past a few quirky spacemen models on the way upstairs and for a minute, I thought this might be real ale's answer to Leeds' now defunct Fab Cafe, with it's wonderful sci-fi atmosphere and terrible Erdinger.  However, whilst Fab Cafe was unashamedly geeky and non pretentious, this place opened up into a welcoming but rather trendy room, the music sounding like it had come from a Brazilian adult movie.  I was not surprised to be served by a young chap with severe beard, tattooed arms and beanie hat.  Meanwhile, a young lady was ordering a warm glass of prosecco and paying very slowly by credit card.  Her boyfriend ordered something keg and American out of the corner of his bearded mouth.  Even my table, with it's warped wood and 2p coins shoved in the cracks seemed to scream "look how cool I am!".  The beer was wonderful, an exciting local range and the 'Pride and Joy' was so nice, £3.60 seemed worth it!  The general feel was unthreatening for a lone drinker to pop in and relax, I couldn't imagine doing that at Friends of Ham, as I sat under some very knowing old fashioned 80's TV's.  Could have easily stayed longer.

Note the warped table at Major Tom's excellent Social,

I then took a train to Knaresborough with mainly very excitable school kids and although I walked totally the wrong way, my next pub was not difficult to find.

797.  Crown, Knaresborough

Not many people visit the lovely market town of Knaresborough with the sole purpose of visiting a Wetherspoons, but then, most people don't dedicate their life to ticking off every pub in the GBG.  Anyway, it didn't look Spoonsie from the outside but that familiar Friday evening gaggle of middle aged noise and much standing around blocking the bar was soon upon me.  The barmaid was a curious creature, very quick to serve me, take my money, subtract 50p for my voucher, she then left my pint ready to top up whilst she went to serve 2 more people.  Surely she'd forgotten about my pint, but she returned with a total "air of the what of it" about 5 minutes later to complete the job!  She's wasted in this role.  Last week, I drank a pint of Broderick's by Daleside in the Cuthbert Broderick in Leeds, and now I was drinking a Daleside Crown in the Crown.  Very suspiciously similar ales too but very good, and better quality here.  A family with a young child (Emily, aged 7 OR 6 who loved her Mum so much she'd got her a "pitcher" - Carlsberg we assume) had just vacated a booth so I was straight in, the locals still happy to stand in the middle of the pub and block the floor space so I felt no guilt!  Emily had dropped two colouring pencils so two elderly chaps came up to me and said "what did we tell you about dropping your pencils you naughty boy!"  'Twas hilarious, even more so when a barman came along to (finally) clean the table and asked if I was using the pencils, but this time with full seriousness.  I joked about not being much of an artist, it was time to find the impossible to find loos (typical Spoons!) and leave. 

'Spoons family fun at the Crown in Knaresborough

I had a bit of a wait for the train back to York so did what any normal person would do and whipped in a quick half lurking outside at the Mitre, another pub not in it's best light on a Friday evening.

Quick half in the rain at the usually excellent Mitre

After a good long sleep, it was Saturday (obviously) and I was back on the tracks for an early start in Burnley's Brun Lea, another Wetherspoons tick for me, though not in the GBG this year and I have certainly had nicer pints of Pendle Witches Brew's in my history of ale drinking - still, it was nice to escape the typical Burnley grey dreary incessant rain and spy on shifty locals out of the window who may or may not have been doing drugs deals with passing cars.

A return trip to Bootleggers (another de-guided pub) reminded Dad that he had been here before.  Just like last time, the barmaid was unresponsive, glued to her mobile phone, there was only one Bank Top ale on this year, and Nigel Pearson's hateful tanned face in large screen on Fletch and Sav with a bit of Glenn Hoddle and Ricky Hatton only added to the sense that here wasn't the best pub in Burnley.  A man with a pushchair and a Farmfoods bag came in for 5 quick pints with his mate, it was that kind of place.

A fair walk followed to our "designated" pub of the day, and the signs weren't good as we met Tom in the pouring rain after 12 to find the pub with lights on and not open!  

This neat pub graffiti sums up how I felt just after 12 noon

Despite the sign, I had a wee against the wall above, Tom urged us to go to the nearby Brittania (which said 'Freehouse' specialising in McEwans lager!) but patience was key and just as we were about to give up, we heard the happy rustling of keys in a lock.

798.  Rifle Volunteer, Burnley

And when the landlady did open (with the kind of disdain for soggy waiting customers that we'd also suffered in Beckwithshaw recently), it was well worth the wait.  You could tell it was classy from the outset, even the urinals were proper old skool, and we took a corner in a fantastic side room and drank some great local ales from Reedley Hallows, especially the Burnley FC themed "No Nay Never".  It looked like things might take a modern turn when landlady said she was "going to put the football on" but this meant the modern day equivalent of Ceefax, so we could happily watch Leicester rack up the goals against Man City.  Tom boosted things by giving us the cheapest bag of mini cheddars ever perhaps (approx 10p a bag, take that Sicklinghall!) and then I discovered Hull City had actually won at Burnley on a Friday night so I did a quiz around that for Tom and Dad, which also entertained the home fans who'd by now come to enjoy this wonderful pub on their doorstep.  Pub of the season contender?  Maybe not quite Nags Head at Loxley but very close.

"Our room" at the Vols.

Well, it was only good etiquette of Hull City to give Burnley 3 points after that, but as Tom and Dad went for the early train, I hung around in the hope of pre-emptive action.

New Brew-M, Burnley

This tiny micropub must be very new because I couldn't even see it on the Micropub website, though I'd identified one called the Beer Shack which was maddeningly closed, so thank goodness for this.  I'd made a bit of a mess finding it so naturally, it was about 3 deep at the bar when I arrived, but the barmaid was one of those totally on the ball "I'll be with you a minute luv after this gentleman" types though one squashy nosed Claret did get served quicker than he should by distracting her with tales of one of the pumps getting stuck.  The ales were ace, Reedley Hallows again plus Hardknott from somewhere near Manchester which I've enjoyed before, so I got a "Brownian Motion" which sounded more like something you'd find in a toilet.  I think the crowd from Knareborough's Crown were here, because despite a very welcoming leather settee, everyone stood up around it rather than on it, so I took my chance and then revealed my Hull City colours in a bid to get a bit of sympathy.  That didn't work but I was just glad to get warmed up out of the freezing Burnley rain which hadn't stopped.

I made the 18:12 back to York, so had a swift half in the York Tap like you do, before Fish & Chips and home.  Despite the defeat and just one GBG tick, a great away day. 

And I'm off work Mon-Wed (wahoo) so expect some bonus BRAPping, though my Wednesday planned North Yorkshire day is cancelled because my boiler broke and the man is coming to look at it making "Boilerman" the first BRAPA Crapper of 2016.  

Si  

BRAPA : January Review / February Preview

The BRAPA Express continues to chug along through the beery landscape, stopping occasionally for fuel at a series of weird and wonderful real ale outlets.  Choo choo!

But I'll stop this lame analogy now to tell you that as part of a new feature of this blog, I'll be doing a brief summary of the previous month and some of the forthcoming events for the new one.

Jan 2016 Review

26 new GBG pubs were achieved, easily eclipsing my target of 15 per month, though in truth, I try and aim for the 22-25 mark in these early days where ticking new pubs is "easier".

I also visited two promising pre-emptive pubs which I am confident will make the GBG in the next two years.

I am nominating three to go onto the shortlist for my eventual pub of the year for when I do my awards ceremony next Jan.  Here they are in no particular order:

1.  Ebor, Bishopthorpe, North Yorks
2.  Red Lion Hotel, Salford, Beds
3.  Graziers, Stanley, West Yorks

Two of those only sold one cask beer on my visit, which means it really was about the pub experience over the beer.

The overall quality of pubs in the month wasn't the best ever encountered, but finishing Bedfordshire and West Yorkshire were great positive steps, and the East London day on 2nd Jan was great.

Feb 2016 Review

Last Feb I only managed 16 new pubs but this time, it could well be edging 30 with loads of plans in place.

We'll start with a Friday night trip to Harrogate/Knaresborough (moved from this Tuesday for gig reasons) and that will be it for my North Yorkshire evening ticking before starting on the South Yorkshire midweek plan.  But hold your horses - I might be able to do some Lancashire / Greater Manc midweek places after work so watch this space.

Also during the week, a Hull City trip to Ipswich will help, though will they do their usual "try and ban away fans from every pub in town?"  Give me Norwich any day!  There's also a winter beezer booked for the North East with two guest BRAPsters, and another possible trip (North Yorks or Merseyside?) still to be confirmed.

Saturday's should be equally productive but Burnley will be a tricky start this Saturday.  A week later sees me implement a new branch of BRAPA called NFFD (Non Football Football Days!  Catchy eh?)  This will be done when Hull City have a hugely unattractive fixture for reasons like high ticket prices, rubbish town, boring place we've done loads, dearth of good pubs etc etc.  Blackburn is a good example so expect to find me on the outskirts of Aspull instead!

Having completed Bedfordshire in January (hurrah, no more Wells Eagle!), I'll be kicking off Berkshire with a trip to the east of the county, and the month ends with a classic Dad Chauffeur Day (DCD?), in either South or North Yorkshire.  I have two ideas in mind for this.

Happy pubbing all!  Let's drink the winter away.

Si

BRAPA : Bury (are you Chiswick in disguise?)

Half time at a snowy Gigg Lane

I was jumping for joy when I saw that Hull City had been drawn away from home against "lower league opposition" in this year's FA Cup 4th round.  After all, it's been a long time since I went to Gigg Lane and in my mind, Bury is your traditional Lancashire town built on black pudding, cotton and friendly old chaps in flat caps.  I was expecting the pubs to reflect this.

793.  Robert Peel, Bury

And it all started well enough in the clamour of a busy early morning Wetherspoons, where the whole town seemed to have to come to shelter from the sideways wind and snow.  I remembered to use my "50p" off vouchers and soon was enjoying a cracking pale ale by Brightside in Radcliffe, which was the tram stop just before this one.  We'd come in via Manchester Piccadilly on the Metro, I hadn't even realised Bury didn't have a regular train service.  Dad's been asking if 'cleanliness' should be considered an important pub factor in my recent pub poll, and the sticky tables and post breakfast crumbs & sauce mean that this pub wouldn't have done well here, especially when an old man behind me swept them off the table into the back of my coat (I would have complained but he looked a bit frail). I've always thought Lancashire was one of the friendliest counties in the UK (Greater Manchester here if you are going by the Good Beer Guide) and a table of Shakers saw my Hull City top and started asking about the game and the masses of fans we were supposedly bringing.  I broke with tradition and declared I was confident of a win so glad that didn't come back to haunt me.  The police then did what they do best on football days, walking into a pub for no reason, looking lost, causing a lull in the atmosphere, and sheepishly leaving as quickly as they arrived.  It was time to go too but only after we declared this "best pint in a Wetherspoon pub for years".

Arriving at the Robert Peel for Spoons based fun.

794.  Automatic Cafe & Malt Real Ale Bar, Bury

A very short walk away, we found this scarily named place like some big clanking metal canteen, with a long thin bar and an echoing cacophony of coffee drinking females just as popular as the 'Spoons we'd just come from.  Dad found a tiny side room which should really have been the snug / the drinkers refuge but this to was light and airy with all tables laid out with knives, forks and serviettes (the latter strangely removed when Tom sat down with our drinks).  Staff were friendly, ales were good with Bury's own Silver Street doing a very warming rum porter perfect on a day like this,  This place made more sense when we realised it was a theatre bar and things took a turn for the worst when a portal to hell opened a load of kids exited from the morning matinee "Adventures with Sam on the Farm" (which as you can see from the pictures below, Dad & Tom unwittingly recreated).  Soon I had a pushchair wheeled into the back of my seat and we were surrounded, and it's fair to say we didn't belong and our presence was not entirely appreciated here.  The local paedophiles may see this as a kind of heaven, but we certainly didn't.  Interestingly, the Good Beer Guide does state "priority may be given to diners at lunchtime".  At least we weren't moved (more on that later!)  We were glad to get out, Tom shouting a hearty "goodbye" at the kids & coffee clones but getting no reply.

Tom thumbs up (playing Sam) and Dad (as Heidi the Hen) at the Automatic

Forget the mystery of the golden egg, what about the mystery of where Bury's old man pubs have gone.

795.  Clarence, Bury

"Oh well", we thought, as we walked the few short paces to our next "pub", "at least things can't be as bad as that!".  WRONG!  The street corner positioning and pub layout suggested a place that was once a no nonsense black pudding eaters boozer.  This was borne out by some placemats celebrating the pubs 110 year heritage, all of which now sadly lost apart from some very snazzy tiled flooring in the gents.   Initial signs were positive, as a friendly bar chap served us some top quality Silver Street ales.  But we thought we'd misheard when he charged us £9.70 for 2 pints and a pint of blackcurrant cordial (tap water, no ice) for Tom.  That is £3.50 for a pint of ale (bad but not unheard of, I live in York!) but £2.70 is the most Tom has ever been charged and he's been drinking blackcurrant with us for over 10 years now (he did get two straws, mind).  In fact, pubs have not charged 1p for this drink on three occasions recently (including in London).   We argued it down to £2.50 but it was little consolation.  We sat down and soon realised we were in a restaurant (and not the McDonald's variety) rather than a pub.  Dad's theory was that they didn't want to know about us drinkers, and had we been dining, Tom's drink would have cost a lot less.  A scary thought but one that resonated.  I shuddered to think what the 1st floor lounge and cocktail bar were like.  Having reached the latter stages of our pints, a nervous looking young barman appeared from the shadows and asked if he could "make a poilte request" i.e. move us for diners.  The cherry on the icing on the shit flavoured Clarence cake!  We pre-empted his request and were off anyway, Dad telling the man who would be claiming our seats to enjoy his "fart arsed ponce burger!"  Tom meanwhile told him the food was rubbish.  It was a good way to exit a truly horrific 'pub' experience.

Pubcurmudgeon writes about the issue of pub diners taking priority over drinkers here, check it out:

 http://pubcurmudgeon.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/what-do-you-think-this-is-pub.html

Nice from the outside - arriving at the Clarence.

We cut our losses after this and made a return visit to the excellent steam orientated railway pub The Trackside Bar.  It was heaving, not only full of Hull City fans but also some dirty  L**ds fans on the way to Bolton trying to avoid the long arm of the law.  Unless they thought Bolton Street meant they were in Bolton and not Bury.  Who can tell with that mob?  An 'orderly' queue was formed at the bar, not very pubby etiquette so I squashed my way in front and soon we were drinking excellent Caveman beers from Kent out on the freezing platform.

Tom & Dad enjoying the cold at Bury's Trackside Bar

We eventually got a seat indoors when the W.S. departed, it was easily the highlight of a traumatic pub day.  The match was a lot of fun, great old ground, nice straightforward win for the Tigers, and post match I nearly went to Whitefield or some new namby pamby place in Manc Victoria station but it didn't quite appeal, with another 'orderly' queue to the bar (is this a new Greater Manchester thing?) and couldn't see any cask.  

Despite everything, I'd have to say that every pint I had today was top quality, and some interesting local breweries on display.  It's enough to make me think "should I be using a "Good Pub Guide" rather than a "Good Beer" one?  But then, I'd probably just moan about poor beer quality all the time!  

Si