BRAPA - Berking Mad - Day Two (Inkpen, Hungerford and more from Reading)

Sunday morning, and as I picked disconsolately at my Premier Inn breakfast with the worst hangover for years (well, weeks), I'd learnt the lessons of Saturday and needed some fresh air and a slower day.  So after downing as many tiny glasses of orange juice as seemed socially acceptable, I was on a train out west to Kintbury.....

Looks nicer now than it did then!

My GBG App told me it was 2.3 miles to Inkpen, not too bad but half an hour later, I realised this was an "as the crow flies" calculation and the distance had gone up to 2.5 miles!  Oh well, great weather, beautiful scenery and quiet roads made for a good de-tox session.

866.  Swan Inn, Inkpen

Rural was not the word - this was one of those ultra remote pubs though I do believe it has the odd bus during the week.  Not on a Sunday obviously.  I was sweating by this stage so I'd already decided to sit outside on the bench you can see in the above picture.  The staff were two young females (possibly Eastern European) who looked at me suspiciously from behind the curtains.  One brightened up when I paid for my pint of Butts Organic Jester in twenty pence pieces, they like change in these parts.  The other carried on looking like something from a bleak Scandinavian crime drama.  Despite the pubs olde worlde feel, it had a restaurant area to the right and an anxious looking Mum to the left, where her child was using the ramp down to the toilets as a diving board.  The loo door had a great stained glass swan but I forgot to take a photo.  A family of bikers were on the other bench, they also had kids with a deathwish, seemingly determined to cycle into oblivion at any given opportunity.  The ale was traditional and most welcome after the trek, and in the sunshine, this was one of the more serene sessions during my Berkshire holiday.  

Opposing view from the Swan.

Sadly, I had to be ultra strict with my 27.5 minute "minimum pub time rule"because the GBG said my next place closed at 3pm, and being 3 miles from Hungerford, it was a race against time to get there before they called afternoon last orders.....

The walk was straightforward and I found my way to the 'village' green where I walked into a parallel community with a barbecue and lots of people stood around being merry.

867.  Hungerford Club, Hungerford

Being a club and having to potentially be "signed in" as a CAMRA member, I couldn't assume anything, so in the most pathetic voice I could muster, I asked if I could come in and have a pint of their London Pride?   "Of course ya can luvvie!" came the reply from Mags, former steward of the club wearing a superb owl jumper, who I think thought she was still in charge unofficially.  I was asked to sign a guest book to complete the formalities, Yorkshire clubs never do this (far too relaxed/lazy) but it's nice to have my name attached to such a great friendly place as this.  It just seemed like a festival of fun throughout, I didn't even mind the kids running about, or the Dad's in tight cycling shorts, though I declined the offer of a barbecue sausage.  Mags invited me to sit with them, and soon I was chatting to locals like Louisa and Johnny about women's jugs and Hertfordshire and BRAPA (obviously), I was asked if I had taken any photos - it seems CAMRA and cameras had been mistaken!    A man from Cheshire was very excited about my BRAPA challenge, but he seemed disappointed I hadn't been pub ticking in Warrington and that his fave pubs weren't in the GBG.  The beer was top quality and with the exception of the ghost of Charles Dickens and his wife, everyone was having a whale of a time.  Sadly, BRAPA stops for no one so I had to move on.  Friendliest place ever.  Oh, and so much for it closing at 3pm!

This pic looks more like a BNP advert than I first realised!

After a short walk where I had to check out the cat paw prints in the brick work (why, I can't be sure), I was at my next pub ......

868.  John o' Gaunt, Hungerford

In the club, they'd told me that whilst this was a great pub, it wouldn't be as friendly (well, nowhere could be) and the landlord was a little bit of a 'character' (shall we say, being discreet).  Whatever the truth, he runs a good pub.  Firstly, the ales - from the local Innformal brewery were very nice, I drank a stout brewed up the road in Wickham (more on that later).  The pub, a bit like the Bunk in Curridge, had a cosy bare boarded shell of an old building, but quite a lot of modernisation going on.  At least it was multi roomed (of sorts) so I sat in a sunny window where the embers of a fire were going out.  The other reason I approve of the landlord was the staff, all gorgeous young brunettes (apart from the token sulky blonde, but you have to roll with the punches) - the 'crumb cleaner' even stopped to chat with me on BRAPA, and then a perky Scottish thing asked if I wanted another drink - table service at it's best, hurrah, all very North Bar in Leeds.  The pub had a nice woody smell as the fire fizzled out, and folk who'd stayed for a post lunch drink all departed.  I tried ringing FIVE taxi companies to get me up to Wickham to try the second Innformal pub, but each had their own unique excuse so I cut my losses and trained it back to Reading.  Good pub this.

Drinking my Innformal Stout.

Hungerford had truly been a great place, but Reading was really impressing me as a town too, though as I walked out south through studentsville, it all got a little bit more 'real'....

Old meets New at the Queens Head

869.  Queen's Head, Reading

Sir Quinno was waiting as I arrived at the Queen's Head, I'd been expecting some little spit n sawdust backstreet local full of grubby old men rubbing their hands together, so was surprised to see a modernised loungey place with lots of peculiar artefacts, mainly oriental, and Sir Quinno (being the font/fount of all knowledge/wisdom of all things pubby in Reading) told me they had the Thai food to match.  No denying it had a nice friendly welcome and some good ales on, to a non Berkshire ale connoisseur like me anyway, I had summat from Hampshire and was amazed just how many Hampshire beers I saw over the weekend, though I guess you could chant "you're so southern, you're practically Hants" and just about get away with it.  Decent enough pub, but not sure if I lived in Reading I'd walk the mile south from town too regularly when you have so much other competition in the centre, just didn't leave enough of an impression on me. 

Another view of the Queen's Head

We then walked back towards town where Quinno showed me a recently shut pub that appeared in the first  'Fly on the Wall' documentary "the Family" (from 1974) - they used to come to said pub to get pissed.  I went to get some supermarket snacks where I learnt a recurring theme of my holiday - no one in Reading trusts a self service checkout.  

"Hi locals!  This is BRAPA, please remain seated at all times"

870.  Hop Leaf, Reading

I'd been looking forward to visiting here for some time now, and am delighted to say it didn't disappoint.  Knowing the S.S. (Hull City's Southern Supporters) drink here, it's been so far impossible to contemplate coming here on a match day.  First thing that struck me, the red carpet - I love a red carpet in a pub, in fact they should really lay one out for me at all times(!)  Makes it so cosy.  Then you have Hopback beers, great brewery - we both got Citra.  Never been to a Hopback pub before, and if one more person says "but surely you've been to Salisbury??" I'm gonna scream cos no I bloody haven't ok!  Why would I, does Wiltshire begin with a "B", no it doesn't! (Sorry, rant over)  Then, Quinno showed me how to play Bar Billiards.  It is big business in York at the moment, the players of pubs like the Woolpack even have trophy wives and sports cars and you have to be silent when they take a shot.  Because Reading has fewer pretentious nob-heads than York, it is played in the way god intended - by jolly blokes with a smile and a sense of humour, like a traditional pub game should be (sorry, second rant over).  I was terrible, too many rules to remember, and think I lost about 2,000 - 300 in the end!  But it was fun.  The pub also had lots of old beer guides on the shelves, another good sign.  We then sat at the bar and had a night cap - Crop Circle for me, Summer Lightning for Quinno cos he's hardcore.  Another Reading theme was evident, everyone loving Spurs and thinking that cos Leicester failed to win one game, they've blown their title chances!  We'll see.  Loved this pub, loved the pub session.

Me learning to play bar billiards, but not very well.  Bot the GBG's.

And that drew the curtain on day two, and looking back, this was my favourite of my four days.  I even remembered who I was when I returned to my Premier Inn for a late night snack and wondered why they don't knock down the Crucible in Sheffield and make them all play Bar Billiards in Reading instead, but don't get Ronnie on the Summer Lightning, he's enough of a twat already.

I'll be back with a day 3 report hopefully on Sunday, but first I have a Manchester Punk Festival to negotiate.

Si (I love snooker really before anyone complains).

BRAPA - Berking Mad - Day One (Reading, Caversham, Curridge, Cold Ash)

Very unnerving toilets at Zerodegrees!

It seems a long time ago now but I started my most ambitious (hardcore) BRAPA trip on Saturday.  Four solid days of pub ticking across my "in-focus" county of Berkshire.

It had been snowing in West Brom  overnight (it's amazing what facts you can learn from Twitter) and it felt icy when I arrived into Thatcham about 12 noon.  First problem, the isolated village of Curridge was a LOT further than I thought, no busses so I rang for a taxi.

Swan, Thatcham

This pub looked fairly welcoming and was warm despite it's lack of GBG listing,  and there rather cruel decision to stock an ale choice of Marston's Old Empire or Theakston Old Peculiar (totalling an aggregate 11.3%) did not bode well for my first day, as we'll see later!  The young barman eyed me with suspicion (a stranger in their midst!) and Thatcham felt very much like Tilehurst, a grey characterless sprawling mass of gloom and despair, with dead-eyed locals and shifty people at their wits end asking for money or cigarettes.  Still, the pub had some nice cosy areas and a proper hubbub, though the beer was a bit thin.

Yoohoo!  Me forced into a drink I didn't want/need at Thatcham

My taxi driver was hardly Mr Jolly despite my best efforts (he was listening to Stray Cats but despite my shared love of Brian Setzer, he still seemed unmoved) but he performed his sole function of dispatching me at Curridge, and glad I hadn't risked the 4.5 mile walk when I looked at how pedestrian friendly the roads were!  

Hurrah, a GBG listed pub!

860.  Bunk Inn, Curridge

So named because the locals used to "bunk" off work to come here.  I suspect their work places (blacksmiths or forges or whatever) might resemble the quintessential pub more than a lot of the so-called modern pubs and this was an interesting example, you could feel the oldness with the low ceiling, wooden boarding and a comfortable feel, but I struggled to fully embrace it (especially when the question "how the heck do I get back to civilisation?" was in the back of my mind.  Despite me being about the only customer, the barmaid seemed to be running around like a stressed headless chicken, perhaps an influx of lunchtime people were all booked.  She was a friendly lass though.  I read the pub had a head-chef who did "carefully crafted seasonal classics" so you have to treat these things with caution don't you?  Especially when a young white shirted man with a puffed out chest appeared from the kitchen prowling around like a highly charged Andy Murray.  The ales were courtesy of a Hampshire brewer called Upham and my Sprinter was a nice sessionable thing after the cruelty of the Old Empire!  I read the 'Ullage' CAMRA mag, got my GBG out (wa'hey!), and probably looked like the biggest pub geek they'd ever had in here, they had some cracking old country music on too!  

Upham ales on the bar in Curridge

Despite serious phone signal issues, I somehow channeled a taxi to take me the shorter distance to back towards Cold Ash.  I promise you purists, this was all my taxi'ing done in the entire weekend (almost).   This taxi firm was a lot more lovely (probably because he loved the BRAPA concept - gosh, I'm so shallow).

861.  Castle Inn, Cold Ash

So here's a question for you pubbers.  Which demographic of society do you find the friendliest and smiliest in pubs?  The old boy at the bar?  The buxom barmaid?  Perhaps the pub pet?!  Here, it was teenage boys, unusual I know, but they were all really smiley whilst other family members moped around like Thatcham's escaped lost souls.  I liked this pub, very homely and traditional like something you might find on a Birmingham side street next to a curry house.    Most of the ales were from Butcombe which I'm sure is still down in Devon last time I checked, the Gold was good standard, though the horrible Adnams "vase" spoilt it a bit.  A spaniel trotted over and made a play for 'BRAPA pet of the year' award but it was a half hearted effort and when it saw two bigger dogs at the bar, it went over to show them it was the boss.  Though there was a fair bit of food going on, I'd found a seat tucked around a corner so I could really appreciate it for the pub that it was.  

After a long and gruelling walk back to Thatcham where I somehow got lost, I hadn't timed it well for the train so I completed the 'Swan' cycle with a half of the Old Peculiar this time, though with a load of old chaps ordering Tuna Mayo sarnies, I went outside to shiver in the beer garden like a martyr!  

The Swan at Thatcham, pre-emptive possibility? 

Having checked in at my Reading Premier Inn (proper Lenny Henry comfort guaranteed), I had a wander round it was nice to see how much Reading has improved as a town in the last 5 years.  It is to British towns what Steph Scully is to 'Neighbours', had a dodgy rough biker spell back in the late 90's/early 00's and has now blossomed into an eye-catching thing in the intervening years (but maybe still avoid after 11pm).

Well, after that bullshit analogy, let's see where I went next.  Oh yes ......

862.  Zerodegrees, Reading

I think I walked through the wrong entrance as I had to negotiate a series of expectant white-shirted smart male staff.  I asked one "where's ya bar?"  "Yabbar?  Never heard of him!" was the reply.  Oh dear, not a good start.  Am pretty sure I've been to Cardiff's Zerodegrees but not been confident enough to 'tick' it, anyway I vaguely remember there not being able to get the Mango beer - but here I did, and despite it's lager-esque tendancies, it was a real grower despite another funny glass.  It was, as you can imagine, a quite sterile modern bar but funnily enough it had quite a pleasant comfortable atmosphere, and watching a stony-faced couple in the death throes of their relationship was just the kind of classic entertainment the solitary pub goer looks out for.  The door I should have used was an automatic sliding one, in a pub?  Crazy stuff, surely that's not acceptable!  But despite it being easy to critcise (and the appalling toilet decor!) I have to say I didn't dislike this place.

Pint of fizzy mango in a test tube anyone? 

A short walk took me to an unpromising looking grey and white building near where the  football busses stop.....

You see the door on the left?  Well it's better when it's closed! 

863.  Greyfriar, Reading

Inside was a really surprising hustle and bustle of mainly thirtysomethings all jolly and enjoying the best range of ales I'd seen so far.  The staff were quite young with tattoos and beards (well, not the girls) and I ordered a Red ale from Ascot which I have to say was the best beer I had in the entire weekend, and totally finished me off for the day!  The lack of seating meant I had to perch at the side until a couple moved, but the staff opened the side door allowing an icy blast to enter - everyone seemed to welcome it based on the fact it'd got too stuffy but despite being an 'ard northerner, I was feeling the pain.  Sir Quinno of Twitter fame arrived with his friend James (who looked a lot more like a Michael) so they could give me a greater insight into the Reading pub scene / have a few pints before their party in Caversham (delete as appropriate).  They didn't mind about the open door either, I couldn't believe it.  Then, a jolly man walked in who they knew, he was the landlord of the Fox and Hounds in Caversham which was on my list for later.  As a side note, the only Hull City fan I recognised on Tuesday night was "Big Dave" and he had been sampling a LOT of Greyfriar beers and was raving about the place.  Good pub.  

We then walked through Reading (no idea what we did) to get to a pre-emptive tick which is a "shoo-in" (thanks Tim!) for the next GBG (not that I know that officially or owt!) .....

Sir Quinno and "James" about to introduce the Castle Tap

Castle Tap, Reading

We walked in through a little back room (my memories are hazy by now) which might have had football on and then outside through a little courtyard and into the main bar area, which again had a great range of ales, my Giraffe from XT was delicious and red again, though on my beer app I was more concerned with what noise a giraffe makes which probably says a lot about my increasingly fragile mental state.  Now I'd been expecting this to be like a micro-pub (because I mean what else opens these days?) so it was nice to see proper modern style pub dedicated to it's drinkers.  I perched on a radiator on the right hand side, chatted, drank, then we went to pick up Lady Quinno for their party and wandered to Caversham.  This might be a good pub to return to when Hull City play Reading next season, perhaps with the Butler and Forresters pubs which are also pre-emptive.  

Not a bad pic considering I can't remember taking it!

864.  Fox and Hounds, Caversham

After pointing me in the right direction, I said farewell to the party gang and was now in one of those pubs where you just think "ahhh, this is how a pub should be".  Loads of ale, happy people, friendly staff.  No idea what beer I ordered but it was quality, I then reflected on how great pubs on the south east of England tend to feel like this one, the Globe at Dunstable sprang to mind ..... and then I was asleep.  And I awoke probably about 20 mins later to find the landlord (returned from his Greyfriar expedition) smiling at me!  He reported all this to Sir Quinno, oh dear, how embarrassing but at least he reported I was a "polite young man" and he was happy to leave me to sleep for a bit!  Unlike the evil but brilliant Black Lion in Leighton Buzzard!    I drank up and left in a happy state......

It was a long walk through Caversham to my final pub, nearly dark when I arrived, worse I guess when you are doing laps of the pavement! 

Remember the Ember?  Not really!

865.  Grosvenor, Caversham

When you are in a hazy 'last pub of the night' state, the last type of pub you want to visit is an Ember Inn.  Even on their portfolio, this felt pretty characterless when compared with, say, the Selly Park Tavern or even the one in Edenthorpe.  Still, staff were polite and I'd sobered up enough to remember to use my free Ember ale (brewed exclusively by Black Sheep zzzzz) and it was a perfectly okay pint.  It reminded me of an estate pub I once visited on the outskirts of Bedford called I think the White Horse, but without the Rod Stewart karaoke - that would be too quirky for an Ember Inn.  Everyone watched the Newcastle game on a giant screen as though it was a 'live' match, I think they thought the clocks are a few hours behind in the north east judging by their semi excited reactions to the relegation battle in the Premier league!  

I had the worst hangover at 4am when I woke (in my Premier Inn, not the Grosvenor) but had at least learnt my lessons to pace myself for the rest of my Berkshire tour!!  I drank water, watched snooker and then went back to sleep til 10am.  Join me soon for a less messy review of day two.

Si

BRAPA - Huddersfield pre-emptive fun

A view from the  John Smith's (ugh) Stadium

Last week, I rolled my eyes in an arrogant way, yawned, and declared that I pretty much knew all there was to know about real ale pubs in Huddersfield.  That was until Huddersfield CAMRA (sparked into life by Martin Taylor's S.O.S. on my behalf) kindly recommended a new beer shop that had only just opened, giving me a mini-challenge.

After a sunny morning stroll around my favourite of West Yorkshire's big towns (where the local busker try to force us all to suicide by performing 'Long Black Veil' in dramatic tones), it soon reached 10:59am and I was ready to go in.....

Me checking I've got the right place ....

Arcade Beers, Huddersfield

Perhaps because I'm naive or hopelessly optimistic, I was thinking that because Hudds CAMRA had recommended this, there'd be a little loft conversion parlour type room with a jolly round man in a Terriers shirt laughing to himself and serving cask ales straight from the barrel, whilst rockabilly music played in the background and cats leapt around the bar counter.  It wasn't quite like this, it was in fact very much a beer shop (a VERY good one at that) with a couple of tables and chairs so you could sample bottles or the two 'craft' ales on tap.  What made it good was our young jovial bearded host from Withernsea, he seemed concerned by Hull City's recent form, he was personable and helpful, and made us feel part of things.  We sampled a schooner (2/3 pint) of a Partisan Saison (very nice) and then found a bottle of a liqourice Great Newsome ale.  However, I'm very much a pub enthusiast/geek rather than a beer enthusiast/geek and it made me chuckle when he asked "do you know what is happening at 12 noon?"  "What IS happening at 12 noon?" I asked, half expecting Seasick Steve to come in a play an impromptu gig featuring songs about Arbor, Redemption, Buxton and Magic Rock.  What it was in fact was the unveiling of a 9% beer from Cloudwater (a Manchester brewer) which was guaranteed to be amazing.  It probably was.  True enough, an excited local came in and was pleased to hear some of this fabled brew was already in the fridge preparing itself for action!  Fair do's, but I was craving an old fashioned pub experience.

Magnificent selection of ales at the Arcade.

My 'out of the box' pre-match plan was to head to the Star, a little bit out of the way and it was 55 weeks approx since I ticked this pub off on one of my BRAPA West Yorkshire midweek evening adventures.  I'd loved it then, so brought Ben, Dad and Tom here to sample it's delights.  They say "you should never go back" (unless you are Alan Buckley) and sadly it was true here as both Ben's porter and my stout were on the turn.  I wish I'd taken it back but first thought it was just the unique taste of North Blyth ale!  My replacement Mallinsons was superb, the landlord asked me if we were "closet Hull fans", oi, less of the closet(!), but the damage had been done......

Rat & Ratchet in the 'Udders sunshine

Just down the road was a pub I'd last been to on 5th September 2004 so it's fair to say I was due a re-visit.  The Rat & Ratchet, like most Ossett pubs is a thing of beauty with wonderful ale, tiling, urinals, you name it.  It had a few more 'Town fans in but still had a gentle sedate atmosphere we could enjoy, the layout felt very different from '04 where I'd remembered a longer and thinner pub, less multi roomed, but time can play tricks on your mind.  My 'Pointless' style BRAPA quiz was a success and Dad shocked pre-match favourite Tom with a 3-2-1 win over him and Ben.   

After Hull City again did their best to embarrass themselves (but play well for the last 15 minutes), there was some hopes of dodging the 'police slalom' (Ben's words) and getting a swift pint in one of Huddersfield's many other glorious ale pubs (Grove, Sportsman, Head of Steam, King's Head, Vulcan, Wood Street thingy) but we thought it safest to get out of town and back to York.  

Once back, me and Dad had a nice relaxed 'swift half' of Sam Smith's OBB in my incredibly local local, the Trafalgar Bay where a Norwich fan tried to look tough (which never works) and the barman displayed a distinct lack of charm (as often happens here), but it was still nice enough.

Back home and all is well with the world!

So no new GBG pubs ticked off, none in midweek either due to social commitments, but with my biggest BRAPA challenge yet (Berkshire overload!) on the horizon, it's all about preparing properly for a total pub fest starting a week today.  I'll try and blog as I go along 'live' from my Premier Inn!  

Si

BRAPA - Delightful Derby

Stunning carved fireplace in the Falstaff

It is ten years this month since I first visited Derby from a real ale perspective, and I'm ashamed now to see how long it took me (about 8 years) to realise there was more to the town than the ghostly touristy Dolphin pub and the pointless 'which is the best?' rivalry between the Flowerpot and Brunswick.

The last two years have shown me that Derby has so much to offer, it might even be better than Norwich and York!

We were in the car again as Dad struggled down the side streets of Normanton (a very 'real' kind of suburb, to the south of town)  and parking was difficult near our first pub of the day where two tattooed grizzly looking smokers stepped out of our first pub of the day to watch our progress.  Dad commented "I think it'll be one of those 'swift half and leg it' pubs!"  I told him not to be so lame.....

855.  Falstaff, Derby

The tattooed smokers joked that we'd finally got parked and welcomed us in, as did all the other local chaps dotted around supping deceptively strong ales from the Falstaff brewery.  The first thing I noticed was the traditional pub smell, so reassuring, a bit like the smoking ban had come into force about 12 noon that very day.  A fantastic carved fireplace and bar area (and Dad spotted the old off sales) showed what a historic gem this was too, and it had a side room where people played pool and loudly sang old country songs (and a bit of Beautiful South).  The barmaid Nicki constantly looked fearful, not surprising when the locals had things like whistle on their keyrings so they could attract her attention!  One of our greeting party asked an unsuspecting chap if he could pull his underpants up, because he couldn't reach down there .... it was that kind of pub.  I'd heard a lot of ghost stories about this pub, possibly the lamest ever, ranging from 'once the snooker chalk fell of the bar' to 'someone left a key ring on a fridge and it ended up in someone elses overnight bag.  Spooky!   No wonder Nicki screamed whenever one of them said 'boo!'  The underpant victim heard us talking about pubs and stuff, and told us about a side room with great old pub memorabilia of a long gone Offiler's Brewery but sadly the room was closed.  This place was like a mini republic, I really hope that pubs like this exist in 30 years time but it felt like something from a bygone age already!

A pint of surprisingly strong Falstaff brew

View of the bar

It was BRAPA's second birthday and what a pub to kick off the celebrations.  We even stayed for two pints and that hardly ever happens!  With the Bell & Castle not really having anywhere to park nearby, we ditched the car just to the west of centre and had a short walk to our next pub.

856.  Greyhound, Derby

It was always going to be impossible to follow the Falstaff (the old Mumford v Metallica hypothesis), but this was a nice warm modern bar and a jolly young barman with a Peter Sutcliffe beard talked us through the range of Derby Brewing Co. ales.  The only one he didn't mention was the Dangeously Dark, so I went for that partly due to his beard meaning I couldn't trust him.  He'd also called Dad 'brother' which was an amusing touch.  The pub had a nice outdoor corridor entrance and with his Heritage hat on, Dad noticed different windows showing the side we were sitting in was much older than the rest of the pub.  The toilet doors were irritating as they had cartoon emo kids representing boys & girls, think a modern watered down version of the 1970's 'woman smoking a pipe' toilet signs of that pub in Macclesfield which has probably been closed for years now (obscure reference there, sorry).  As it was, I enjoyed my pint more than either of the Falstaff ones but there was no chance we'd stay on for another.  

Out of the traps, and I'm off and running. 

Just a couple of streets away was our next pub, another one I'd not heard of before and probably why I insisted on calling it the Golden Lion, but luckily a kindly West Brom man was on hand to point out the error of my ways .....

Great pub art at (definitely) the Golden Eagle

857.  Golden Eagle, Derby

Another friendly welcome ensued (what's going on?  Was I really in the East Midlands?  Why has this never happened before?)  and a local father and son duo parted to reveal Titanic Plum Porter, I've shunned it for too long recently, and it was time to dive back in and realise it's brilliance.  In fact, combine it with some cherry tomatoes (Dad had a bag of them, as you do) and the flavours were even more amazing.  What a superb old pub this was, it looked only recently restored to some kind of former glory, all wooden and basic, and if you are a fan of the Peacock or the Furnace, you'll know the kind of Derby pub I am talking about.  And no-one was going to stop us eating our sandwiches in the corner.  Again Dad was spotting historic window frames whilst I just basked in the bliss, an old woman who looked like she'd stab me on a normal visit to Derby suddenly smiled and showed me which was the loos were.  If it hadn't been for the Falstaff, this'd have been pub of the day.

Plum Porter in another majestic Derby pub.

Back into the heart of the town centre next, I always am a bit suspicious of 'very' central pubs, but I needn't have worried.

Dad basks in the evening glow of the Old Bell Hotel

858.  Old Bell Hotel, Derby

With it's mock tudor frontage, I was expecting something grimy, sticky with families eating salmon and mash potato in the corner (I'm thinking Ye Olde Starre Inne in York, or Chequers in Oxford), so imagine my surprise when I discovered this was a proper classy old hotel.  It had been refurbished of course, and with an eye watering range of amazing beers on, though I doubt Martin Taylor will be happy that I shunned the Bass in favour of a pint of Maid Marian.  The staff were helpful and friendly, and the toilets appeared to be refurbishing themselves and there was nothing the pub could do to stop it (though possibly my take on the wording).  I now read that discerning drinkers head to a Tudor bar at the back of the pub, I didn't see this and just shows how undiscerning I can be a few pints in.  Sensing imminent Hull City disaster, Dad inquired on a sign advertising Salopian Vertigo (a so-called Black IPA) at 7.2% and glad he did.  The biggest surprise that Mrs Taxi Firm had never heard of this pub but knew exactly where Walkabout was - typical!  Time had shot on alarming quickly, perhaps the Vertigo was to blame for that. 

Ridiculous bottled ale

"We are pub toilets, we'll do what we want!"

We'll gloss over the next couple of hours, simply adding the words "inept", "woeful", "worse than Rotherham or L**ds matches" and "no hope of promotion but who cares". 

Post match saw a long walk back to the car, but luckily it took us straight past a pub I'd been meaning to visit for ages now .....

Time for post-match Derby pub commiseration pint....

859.  Alexandra Hotel, Derby

Ignoring the bouncer on the door (who actually seemed to be a railway enthusiast with a luminous jacket and a bad sense of direction), this was where Derby County's more pessimistic fans had congregated post-match.  The idiots having gone to the Brunswick with all other Hull City fans.  It was another cracker, full of railway artefacts which might not be surprising being so near the station.  Beers were mainly from a local brewery I don't know called Clarkshaws.  We sat with some nice gentle rams and talked about wonderful pubs of Derby rather than football which suited me fine.  They agreed with me on key points like Huddersfield is a great drinkers destination and that Barrowhill beer festival is good but overrated and over busy.  Derby CAMRA was first formed here back in the 70's and this is now their current pub of the year, which was a nice fact to end a fantastic day on.

Chillin' with the Rams

Gorgon's Alive! 

Onto Saturday then and thanks to a combination of Retired Martin and Huddersfield CAMRA, I can get a dead-cert pre-emptive in at Arcade Beers on Station St (11am) before heading to 1 or 2 classics to see us through to 3pm, and if Tuesday was anything to go by, I'll need to be well-oiled again!

Laters Pubbygators, 

Si

BRAPA - Leyburn, East Witton, Masham and Lofthouse.

Dad ticks off another pub (note the comedy beetroot stain on damaged finger).

I'm on a real hot streak with the near impossible county of North Yorkshire at the moment, and was all set for a painful Saturday of busses galore, 'Spoons breakfasts in Ripon, long walks and hanging around in the rain, all for the sake of 3 pubs.

And then, at the 11th hour on Friday evening, something remarkable happened.  Dad chopped half a finger off with a pair of secateurs, and with (potential) heaped on pain of Hull City too much to bear, he opted for a BRAPA car day instead.  It made sense for both of us, everyone in the medical profession knows the only way to grow half a finger back is visiting real ale pubs.

It was a grey, cold and wet morning in York, and after a long drive where Mrs Sat Nav was treated with the contempt she deserves, we were parking in Leyburn at just gone 11am.

It's time for t'first pub lads!

851.  Golden Lion, Leyburn

Standing tall on the market place, we entered this pub/hotel to find the supposed chaotic scene of bottles of Desparados and Erdinger cluttering the bar - something I wouldn't have even noticed had it not been for cute strawberry blonde barmaid apologising for it.  Despite her southern accent and calling me 'darling' despite being quite young herself, she made a good impression and summed up the pubs whole ethos of smart and well kept, warm and welcoming.  The pub might have had a hideous looking conservatory restaurant attached to the back like a mutant growth, but the bar area was very separate.  As I've said before, thank goodness for Wensleydale brewery breaking the evil Theakstons/Black Sheep empire and the Semer Water was top quality, whilst Dad decided to be well behaved and had a coffee with one of those pointless biscuits.  A bit like in Danby, people kept appearing at the bar to make random requests.  Again, the answer was 'no' to questions like 'do you have croutons?' and 'do you have waterproof jackets?'  Why are people so demanding in pubs these days?  Why can't they just sit down with a pint and accept their lot?  Anyway, I actually felt a little less comfortable as time went on in here, not sure why, but still a good start to the day.

Wensleydale drinking in Leyburn.

Next stop then was just 1.5 miles north in Bellerby.  Then it struck again.  SHUT PUB ALERT!  Noooo.  The Cross Keys was my 'key' pub of the day, liking of course to do the pubs in some kind of alphabetical preference and just like Beck Hole a year ago, this one is the one creating a blockage.  GBG said 12 noon, Whatpub said 12 noon, but I should really have checked their official website which says 3pm.  I was frustrated, the next pub needed to be good.

Just south of East Witton is this absolute gem

852.  Cover Bridge Inn, East Witton

And what an old fashioned gem it was!  The GBG talks about 'fathoming out the latch' and it wasn't kidding, ignore the door handle and slide the plate downwards.  Unique, and it all adds to the quirks of the unspoilt centuries old inn.  As do outdoor toilets.  It took me even longer to fathom these out, outside down a little snicket to the left but as one local helpfully advised me, don't go over the bridge!  Did he mean don't wee over the bridge, or don't look for the toilets over the bridge?  I guess we'll never know.  My conclusion is that the harder pub toilets are to find, the better the pub probably is.  Though this may not apply to Wetherspoons.  The tiny beamed low roofed front bar with it's roaring fire was a joy to behold, and  you could forgive me for thinking everyone packing this room to the rafters was a walker or easter holiday visitor.  When it transpired they were all locals who knew each other, it was nice to hear them talking about visitors as though they were amusing little necessities that they just had to deal with.  I put Dad in front on the fire with a pint of Gadd's No 7 from Kent (I felt a bit guilty shunning all the Yorkshire beers but hey ho) so he could rest his finger and slumber, whilst I just looked around the room, smiling like a wide eyed tourist idiot.  

Pints in front of the fire at the Cover Bridge Inn

I'd recovered from the Bellerby disappointment by now, and we were formulating a plan for a 'replacement' pub, but not before we'd visited the beery hamlet of Masham, home of both Theakston and Black Sheep, ooh don't make me choose!  (seriously, they are both overrated).

...and the winner is Theakstons!

853.  White Bear, Masham

Again my 'rule' of approaching the left hand door of this smart, modern Theakstons Brewery Tap was a bad decision.  Dead eyed barflies and food eating toffs filled the room, so I was relieved when Dad found a proper bar to the right where no nonsense drinkers and old dominoes players were trying to recreate a mini Cover Bridge Inn style experience.  We were surprised to see a Theakston Vanilla Stout, even more so to find how delicious it was, though me loudly exclaiming "who thought Theakstons could make a beer this good?" in their brewery tap was hardly going to endear me to the staff.   Another real fire was very welcome, I couldn't believe how cold today was.  Chelsea were thrashing poor woeful Aston Villa in the far corner, and a man had to keep sending his wife/girlfriend to the toilet so he could watch a few minutes of it at a time.  After her third enforced piss, she became suspicious, she offered him chance to sit near us so he could see the screen, but fearing it was a trap and she'd be in a huff all day, he politely declined.  But when Chelsea scored their third, he cracked and seeing us leaving, scooted straight into our seat - something about jumping into graves!

We now had a sense of urgency for our 'replacement/bonus' pub in Lofthouse closes at 3pm (if you can trust the GBG) so had a trek through the most beautiful but remote Nidderdale countryside imaginable.  I say it a lot of my North Yorks trips but seriously, I've rarely been anywhere this remote.  Getting stuck behind a stupid wagon which would not let us pass simply didn't help.

Lofthouse itself was a light stoned pretty village, the pub looked open, hurrah, but something was blocking the entrance!  

Lofthouse, amazingly remote.

854.  Crown Hotel, Lofthouse

Hens!  Lots of them.  All stood in the doorway, but delighted to say they were the feathered variety rather than the tanned drunken Geordie variety.   We just had to move them and push on in, though a hungry looking dog was sat on the other side with it's mouth open.  The pub was a welcoming hub of village life, and Clive was the most stereotypical Dales pub landlord you could hope to imagine with his proud beard, beer gut and cheerful demeanour.  He was delighted I could pay him the £6.80 in loose change, and when I told him to check I was right, he said he knew it was £6.80 by the weight of it!  "The sad thing is, he's not even joking" piped up one of the regulars.  The range here was only Theakstons or Black Sheep but I was so high on the wonderful situation, that even a pint of BS tasted like nectar of the gods.  Our decision to buy some cheeselets excited the dog, who temporarily took his mind off the hens, though he wasn't getting anything from us.  With another cosy fire roaring away, and Dad declaring his finger pain free for the first time since the incident, it was certainly true that real ale pubs are the best medicine.  

Trying to get inside the pub was tricky. 

Best Sheep I've ever had!  Clear as a bell. 

Back in York, we obviously had no alternative to nip into the Fox for a swift half of Osset ale (I once again shunned Plum Porter, what is wrong with me!)  We checked the shock news Hull City had actually won, and providing they don't end up in the playoff final, I'll be looking to finish the Dales area pubs (including Bellerby!) at the end of May.  

One of the many back rooms in the Fox

It was another fantastic day, I'm really starting to believe North Yorks has wonderful pubs after all, I must have just been unlucky in 2014-15 as they mainly seemed a bit lame.  Onwards and upwards to Derby on Tuesday.  See you for a report on that one, Wednesday.

Si

 

BRAPA - March Review / April Preview (2016)

HMS BRAPA has sailed blissfully into Ale Harbour, having spent most of the month docked at 'Shut Pub Haven'.

23 new pubs visited was a pleasing result in the end, especially as 8 of those were done in the final few days.  I also managed 4 pre-emptives, all of which I'd rate as very high potential to appear in a future edition of the Good Beer Guide.

The month was frustrating as predicted, with factors like 'shut pubs', 'cat-sitting', 'rubbish Hull City' and 'recurrence of December ankle injury' all conspiring to hinder my progress.

The quality of the pubs visited however was the best so far, here are the three that I'm putting through for 'pub of the year' contenders:

1.  Bell, Aldworth
2,  Spotted Dog, Digbeth
3.  Duke of Wellington, Danby

Others like the Cock Inn at Birdwell, the Blacksmiths at Lastingham, the Old Moseley Arms at Balsall Heath and the Crown and Anchor at Barugh Green were very close to getting the final nod.

April Preview

I am predicting that April will eclipse my 'pubs visited record', mainly due to my 4 day Berkshire Beezer mid month where I'm focussing mainly on the rural ones of West Berkshire.  I still can't decide a definite agenda but it'll be pub fuelled fun whatever, and I can't wait.

By the time you read this, I'll have done some more North Yorkshire rural pubs to kick off the month , whilst Tuesday sees us celebrate BRAPA's second birthday with a trip to that wonderful ale town of Derby.  Surely at least four new pubs on the agenda there.

Next Saturday is "dead-ticking" as I go to watch Hull City at Huddersfield, a wonderful pub town but sadly I've done all the ones in the GBG so hoping to stick to 1 or 2 of my favourites.

The week after is Berkshire, and I don't have any time to recover before I get a rural South Yorkshire tick in after playing golf, and then a punk festival in Manchester gives me a chance to get some of the remaining Manchester/Salford pubs that I need, as long as my sister doesn't try and be a BRAPA Crapper.

My liver will be silently sobbing by the month end trip to Bolton, which again is too good an opportunity not to get some ticks in the town, as I normally go to Horwich for that game.

South Yorkshire midweek coverage might be a bit spotty, but I'd love to crack the Donny Marketplace conundrum once and for all, possibly combined with highly rated Tickhill.

Just to remind you all, say NO to Motion 10 (a proposal to no longer have a 4,500 pub limit in the Good Beer Guide from 2018 onwards) or else they may as well rename it the 'Average Beer Directory' and I think ABD doesn't sound as good as GBG! (not to mention my task becoming impossible).

Keep on pubbin', keep on hidin'.

Si

Bertie reacts with disbelief to Motion 10 announcement

BRAPA - More fun on the outskirts of Barnsley

With the smell of Johnstone's Paints hanging in mild spring air, I was back in the now familiar Barnsley interchange in search of new 'Good Beer Guide' pub ticks.  I was on the bus to Hoyland Common about 15 mins later, and as I took the below picture, across the road was a man wearing nothing but boxer shorts seemingly locked out of his house.  Barnsley is such a great town.

849.  Saville Square, Hoyland Common

It was almost as if bland pub chain Ember Inns had torn up their business model, and decided to add a bit of character, comfort and an additional exciting beer.  True, the eye-watering, mismatched furniture unsuitable for pub use was on display, so was the pointless pile of logs and friendly young staff doing their best to impress.  My brunette was on top form, and only missed out on an award nomination because it was a male!   Abbeydale Moonshine (another Ember staple) was on, but I went for a Thornbridge Kipling and I doubt I've drunk a pint so quickly this year.  Great stuff.  The bar area had nice tiling too, quite quirky and green, just the way I like it.  An unlikely business meeting was happening to my left, two young men agreed everyone else in their company were "fucking idiots", and could "only see what they want to see".  Someone called Simon came in for serious criticism which seemed harsh, Simon's Union and all that.  Little did they know I was taking the meeting minutes.  They called time on the meeting after about 5 minutes, happy with their conclusions, and watched clips of cats playing with babies on YouTube and giggled hysterically.  It was time to go!

Strange outdoor seating at Saville Square

A lovely pint and some horrific chair patterns in Hoyland Common

Birdwell was only a mile away, so I tested the dodgy ankle in readiness for Saturday's day out to see how it would hold up.  Of course, after last week's fiasco, I got increasingly nervous as I got into Birdwell and started the walk on the imaginatively titled 'The Walk'.  Thursday night is surely a night that pubs open?  I saw a car pull into the car park, a good sign (as was the Bass lamp identified by Martin Taylor), and sure enough the pub door was open.   What a blessed relief!  

Does this scene look familiar?  It should do!

850.  Cock Inn, Birdwell

I said 'hello' to my trusty picnic bench (the glasses had now gone!), and entered the left hand side as per 2016 BRAPA rules.  This was immediately wrong with no pumps in sight, and a friendly young version of punk legend John Robb (complete with croaky voice) directed me all the way around.  Mrs Birdwell decided I was going to be the guinea pig for her 13 year old daughter's first foray into pint pulling, and the young lass did a good job on a fine pint of Stancil Barnsley Bitter.  Like all good South Yorkshire pubs, a group of jolly jokey men had gathered in the back right hand corner (which also happened in Barugh Green and Auckley and must be a local rule).  The pub was just as I'd imagined last week, a wonderful old stone grotto of pump clips, strange decor, a bit like the Graziers in Stanley but with a slightly more country feel.  Anyone worried about the future of real ale or proper pubs just needs to spend an hour here to be reassured.  Of course, I had to ask about Monday opening, I owed it to us all!  Landlady told me they hadn't opened on a Monday for at least a year now, but plan to start doing so shortly.  I decided it would be harsh to tell her that I actually gave no shits about what they were planning to do on Monday's 'in the future", they seemed a lovely family.  I think the local CAMRA need to get more on the ball re the GBG opening times and WhatPub, but there are worse crimes I suppose (i.e. why Sunderland CAMRA still haven't de-guided the inept Butcher's Arms) but anyway, I digress.  This was a classic pub experience worth waiting for. 

Cosy pubbing at the Cock Inn

So, Saturday is on the horizon.  I've not booked anything so I could see whether the ankle was up to something more rural, or whether I should stick to a townie day.  

And then,  at the 11th hour, a freak injury to a family member is actually going to work in BRAPA's favour so see you all on Sunday for a full blown report, plus of course the review of March and preview of April.

Si

p.s. oh, and good luck to the Tykes on Sunday!