BRAPA - Richmondshire La La La

Sightseeing from a beer garden is my kind of sightseeing.

"Did you just talk to my dog?"  That was the first thing anybody said to me in Colburn, and he wasn't happy.  You know how it is, friendly dog trots ahead of owner, jumps up at you, you stroke it and say hello, owner catches up, knows you are a good egg, says hi, end of social situation.

Well not here in the fictional county of Richmondshire.  I'd already been mowed down by a shopmobility scooter in Darlington but it was going well otherwise.  I overtook a couple of  scroats down a narrow country lane, said an awkward hello, and reached my first pub soon after.

Lurking through the trees is this gem

973.  Hildyard Arms, Colburn Village

Having leant against a wall around the corner so as not to look impatient, I was delighted to hear that most perfect noise, an old pub door being unbolted, at 11:56am, 4 minutes early.  I nonchalantly ambled on in, to find the earlier scroats already at the bar (how??) ordering fruity Kopparberg bottles, with ice - exactly the kind of drink I'd expect from them.  As I got served a fantastic Richmond stout called Greyfriars from the no nonsense nice landlord, his dog started getting very excitable, desperate to go outside but not being allowed.  You might be familiar with the pub situation, where dog tries to manipulate the visitor with it's eyes into letting it out.  I made sure in no uncertain terms that whilst I wanted to find the beer garden, i wasn't letting him escape.  Sick of dogs already and not even midday!   Anyway, I succeeded and found a fantastic beer garden (the scroats had gone to the less superior front of the pub), the inside of the pub was half farmhousey, half modern.  I heard the landlord whistling and saying "come 'ere!", it was hard to know if he was talking to wife or dog.  Despite the fine weather,  it was very windy and some ancient trees were creaking like they were going to collapse on me so I couldn't totally relax.  Just as well.  Plenty to do!

Google Maps then had a rare moment of added usefulness by letting me know my bus was 12 minutes late so I kept walking until I was well on the Colburn road back towards the "county town" of Richmond.  Hopped on a bus, and 10 minutes later was ready for pub two.

Richmond was, as I expected, one of those beautiful North North Yorkshire towns with castle, historic buildings galore so when I photographed the Wetherspoons, a man looked up as if to say "of ALL the tourist snaps, you chose to take this one?!"  He even looked up at the sign to see if I'd spotted a giant Pokemon or something.

974.  Ralph Fitz Randall, Richmond

I entered to find that reassuring(?) 'Spoons smell of coffee and after the kind of tardy service you only really get in 'Spoons pubs, I was drinking a £1.55 pint of Wensleydale bitter with the help of a Curmudgeonly voucher.  A scary skinhead man was quizzing the staff on the lager, the barmaids showed their "knowledge" by recommending him a Devil's Backbone (which made me smile inwardly) but despite a pushy ' try before you buy' offer, he stuck to Heineken.  I decided to sit at the far end of the pub next to a "real" bookcase (how long before we get a real pub bookcase society?) on rare bench seating so I could observe the pub.  I'd only just "unpacked" my BRAPA 'kit' when a young couple returned from smoking outside to inform my they'd ordered food for this table.  I guess normal people would either have left something at the table, OR accept their error and ask the staff to change their table number.  But as I was learning, the people are not normal up here so with good grace, I moved seats, despite their kind offer to "join them for lunch" (well, the boyfriend said it, she hovered in the background looking scared and guilty).  This all meant I was sat too close to two tearaway 10 year old girls running amok.  Parental supervision?  Not a chance.  They did come up with quote of the day though, suddenly realising they hadn't seen Mum for ages.  "She's either having a fag outside, or she's gone to the toilet" reassured one, to which the other replied "Maybe she's having a fag IN the toilet!".  Absolute classic Wetherspoons experience.

The two hourly bus to Gilling West (hard G, so the bus driver knew I was a tourist) wasn't far off so I stood and waited in the market place as the 29 became an X34, a 155 became nothing and sped off, and a 70 something turned up and became the 29 we all needed.  Phew!   To quote one teenager at the stop, "I'm sick of these busses mugging me off!  Lolz".

White Swan - doing the whole "old" and "modern" thing.

975.  White Swan, Gilling West

It was nice to be in a peaceful and secluded village after the hustle and bustle of Richmond, even if a main road did run through it.  As I arrived, two hooray henry's were leaving on bikes so I seemed to have timed it well.  However, stood at the bar were a middle aged couple twatting around with coffees and dessert menus with no awareness that I might (a) just want a pint and (b) want to be able to actually see the beers.  I despised these two a lot more the the Kopparberg chavs, so unsmiling and unfriendly.  Had they been tourists, I may have let them off but the fact they had north east accents made their behaviour doubly unacceptable.  However, I did have the last laugh as they went to sit outside on the road (hopefully literally), I found a secluded suntrap ancient courtyard garden which was superb, and my Old Nel(?) by Richmondshire brewery was as good as anything I had all day.  Frustrating then that an obviously historic old pub with slate flooring, a real fire etc etc should have gone to lengths to overly modernise.  I guess I find it a lot ("gotta do food in pubs in this day and age to survive, it's what they call progress you dinosaur!"), but had this been a wintry trip and I'd had to sit inside, I reckon I'd have been very underwhelmed.   I tried a hideous half of a keg beer called Theakstons Peculiar IPA which was wrong on so many levels, then the hooray henry's returned (at least they said 'what ho') so it was time for my bus.

Great courtyard experience.

Just wrong.

It was hard to know where the bus would stop (there wasn't a stop) so when I saw the driver helping a frail old lady off it a few yards down, I had to leg it.  "Oooh good timing!" he said, but then stopped in a random place for another old lady a few yards past the pub,  They have their own rules in Gilling West.

976.  Bishop Blaize, Richmond

Shame about the scaffolding, but it did seem to suit this creaky old pub where you enter through a corridor, and everything seems very squashed and narrow and ancient.  A nice tonic after the last pub, and talking of nice tonics, Upham ale was on which I only thought they sold in rural West Berkshire, as I quickly glossed over that dream combination of Doom Bar and Sky Sports.  A harassed looking man arrived at the bar with a sense of urgency, then asked in a hushed embarrassed way if he could have a bucket of ice for the prosecco.  As I smirked and wondered what Martin Taylor would think, he added as an aside "because you know what demanding women are like!"  I passed through a rather drab games room, and found another courtyard, this time more shaded, with great views of the castle.  I sat facing the prosecco gang (he was right, the women were quite annoying) and one squealed when the ice bucket finally arrived.  I looked at the man expectantly, but giving her a slap was sadly not an option he'd considered.

A bus took me back into Darlington and I had 2 hours til the train to York, so luckily I had pub ticking potential for the first time in County Durham since Feb 2015's Chester-le-Street extravaganza.

Down an unlikely looking side street ....

..through the red door, and up the stairs.

 
977.  Old Vic, Darlington

Sometimes you know a pub is going to be magnificent before you even get to the bar, and after a couple of flights of stairs, I entered a lounge where yet another crazy dog greeted me (can't remember his/her name!) and I was the only customer.  I got talking to the landlady Bernie about all aspects of pubbing (well once I'd bored her with BRAPA) and it was really interesting to talk to someone running a pub just for the love of it, the challenges of weeding out undesirable locals (as if anyone in Darlo is anything other than human kindness personified!),getting real ale introduced, introducing locals to each other to form a community feel, evil Marstons (poor Minster Inn), unwanted pool tables, unique jukebox selections, the list went on and before I knew it, I'd ditched other further out Darlo pub options in favour of a second pint before my train!  And I never do that.  You either get this pub straight away or you don't, I know a lot of people who'd be unimpressed (but I think you'd love it, reader), but the shabby (but not shabby chic) 80's style decor and layout is deliberate and increasingly rare.  This must be a candidate for the best pub in the land, surely!  When Hull City play at Darlington in a Blue Square North clash in 2025, I know which pub I'll be in.

CAMRA mags from all over the land.

 Having fallen asleep on the train and nearly missed York (I was tired, okay!) I still had time to pop into York Tap for a 'swift half' but I was 10p short so they MADE me set up a tab I didn't really want.  Luckily, Tom Irvin's cameo appearance helped me realise I could just get a half, down it, settle up the tab, which sounds obvious now but at the time, I felt like a prisoner!

Still, a really good day and for the first time, I can exclusively reveal I am not that far from finishing North Yorkshire ticking.  Perhaps 2 more chauffeur days and 2 more train days.  Though the new GBG is bound to scupper all of that.

 Giving myself a break from South Yorkshire this midweek, feel I need a sustained break from the ale, but I have a "special" blog in the pipeline about a slimmer GBG, and I'm in Morecambe next weekend with friends for pub ticking.

Si

BRAPA - Sheffield West & South to a Finish

Sheffield seemed to have been hit by a plague of elephants when I arrived in the city on Tuesday evening.  Not real ones, just model ones, painted all different colours, and randomly dotted around the city.  Hull did exactly the same thing a few years ago with toads.  But that made sense as it was a tribute to poet Philip Larkin who wrote about them.  So unless Jessica Ennis-Hill once had a relationship with an elephant at a Summer Olympics, this didn't.

Stop copying Hull, Sheffield.  It's embarrassing.  You aren't as good.  You are decent, but no more.  Stop it.  What's next, are you going to strip naked, paint yourselves green, and pretend to be grass?  There's only one "City of Culture 2017" and it sure isn't you.

And now I've lost my Sheffield readership, on with the pubs......

Pointless elephant blocks view of The Howard pub.

I almost did everything right at the bus stop on Furnival Gate, apart from forgetting to flag it down, so after another 20 minute wait, I was amongst the usual gaggle of students and old people on a bumpy bus climbing up a hilly road.  Luckily, the bus stop was right outside the pub.

971.  Greystones, Sheffield West

A friendly brunette with glasses and an "accent" (according to the locals, despite being from Sheffield) was there to serve me some very cold 'Brother Rabbit' by Thornbridge when I arrived - for this is the brewery's tap and I've always been a fan, but suspected a slight leaning to the modern and trendy.  A couple of young beardies (in above photo) were working their way through the full range.  With an old man staring at me in way that only 'Judgey Jesus' from London would (had he heard about the olives too?), I had no choice to sit in the main bar at one of the posing tables that dominated the pub,  What with extreme air conditioning, draughty doorway and cold beer, it was hard to feel 100% comfortable here.  The pub seems to double as a gig venue, with lots of posters and t-shirts on sale - I think they call "the back room" or something, because it is in a back room.  Original.  At least Fulford Arms "behind the white door" gig venue in York is no longer behind a white door.  A barman looked exhausted, having had to bring food to two different people hidden in corners of the pub, demanding half a pepsi off our friendly barmaid.  She had greater problems as a father & son duo walked in and the Dad went all embarrassing by chatting her up and telling her about his day.  She didn't care.  His son's decision to try and alleviate the embarrassment by discussing the range of nuts didn't help.

Lovely ale but a bit too cold for me, like the whole place.

Thin Rose West and J. Ennis-Hill (pre-elephant) on the walls.

I decided to try something new to get to my second pub and booked an online taxi with a company called Uber and it was uber exciting!  With no busses between the pubs, and a 3.2 mile walk not viable options tonight, it had to be done.  Sadly, my free promo code didn't work but at £7.32 (strangely exact but good) and being able to see my driver on GPS getting closer was interesting,  and you get to rate the driver and they get to rate you.  How long til my review reads "pub bore".  Good chap was Mohammed, gave Ralph Hussain a run for his money.  Use code SIMONE1358UE for a free ride with them, and I get one too.

Mohammed is 7 minutes away, time for a swift half? 

Advert over, acid test will be if Uber can get me to the Anchor Anchor for 50p from York.  I was at my next pub ....

972.  Mount Pleasant, Sheffield South

Bit of culture shock after all the modernness, I entered to the right door where I was greeted by the friendly locals (wow, not what I was expecting but superb).  Sadly, no ales in this side so I went to the left room where a small man on a mobile phone was scurrying around.  He turned out to be the landlord and broke off to give me the most nonchalant run down of the four ales ever, and then rang a bell to call "her from downstairs", a girl with glasses and severe fringe who looked like she normally was chained up in the basement, and blinked up nervously at the light.  What I most loved about this place is that it smelt like an old pub, not sure how to describe it, but it was reassuring.  Two old men sat next to me and started discussing what they were having for tea.  "Sausage and mash" said one, "but it is poor quality sausage."  Probed further (so to speak), he revealed he hated oven chips and when his friend told him you could get microwaveable ones in a box, he reacted like microwaves were far too much of a new fangled invention for him, and he'd never got used to his.  "I tried doing beans on toast in it once, it didn't work out well." But it was said totally deadpan.  I snorted into my ale though.  BRAPA comedy gold!!  They left, "see you later Mark" "errmm it's Michael actually!" I thought they were old friends, they didn't even know each others names.  Brilliant.

Classic old man's pub, note the locals about to chat microwaves.

I had no time to relax, my busses were hourly and one was 10 minutes away so I swigged off my delicious Anglers Reward by Wold Top and dashed down the street, getting it quite comfortably.

I had time for a swift half in Sheffield Tap, not a brilliant place but nowhere near as bad as my Dad claims, I asked the barmaid if the Bristol Beer Factory Junga was pronounced with a hard J or like "Yunga" to which she looked at me like I was a fucking idiot.  But I still didn't get a proper answer.

Possibly the most pathetic pub tables ever, Sheffield Tap.  I've seen bigger ashtrays.

This week, it made more sense to change at Leeds than go straight through to York and it wasn't such a bad journey back. 

Just one more Sheffield trip left but with the Wellington not open Mon or Tue and me unable to do Wed or Thu next week, we'll have to think outer South Yorkshire again.  And thanks to Martin Taylor for pointing out that Penistone's Royal British Legion Club has been de-guided for not letting CAMRA members in.  Well deserved!  

Si

  

BRAPA - Berkshire Part VI (but mainly Hampshire!)

I arrived into Blackwater on Saturday morning just before 11am, where I saw two desperadoes (rough old men, not tequila beers) sitting impatiently in the sun outside the Mr Bumble.  By 11:10am, it still wasn't open so I asked one of the desps (who'd somehow managed to break into the beer garden) when it was opening?  Mrs Bumble overheard me, said they were "busy" and not opening til 12.  What the dickens was going on?

The lights are on, and 'busy' people are at home.

I wasn't hanging around so took a taxi to my furthest away pub instead (bus links are virtually non existent in these parts).  Taxi driver Ralph Hussain was a great chap, I know a fellow Minster Man when I meet one and soon we chatting about all the York bars he used to work in - Plonkers, Lowther, Kennedy's, Bobo Lobo, Vudu Lounge (I tried to be kind and said I had a nice Oakham Citra in Kennedy's (once!))  

966.  Tally Ho, Eversley

Buoyed by my great chat with Ralph, I was in happy sociable mood as I entered the Tally Ho, where two brunette barmaids were working hard despite the zero customers.  The big criticism was immediately apparent, about 90% of the spacious pub had tables bedecked with knives and forks and even as the only customer, it was hard to find a 'pubby' seat!  Still, somewhere remote with no bus links I guess has to play the foodie card.  However, the pub was a positive experience mainly for my chat with the barmaid, and that is the good thing about being first customer of the day.  BRAPA seemed to strike a chord.  The main three things I took away from our chat are as follows.  The pub has been in the family for generations and she was employed to work here by her grandad without even realising it.  The pub is quiet now but it's heaving in summer (at which point, I gently reminded her it was 9th July!)  And the pub in Yateley is good and she is friends with Sophie who runs it, but my suggestion of going in and saying "hi Sophie!" might freak her out.  More on that later.  My pint was top quality (Flack's Double Drop) and the pub looked to have an amazing garden but I couldn't open the french window cos I'm rubbish!  It put me in mind of the Bunk at Curridge, but with a more positive overall outcome.  A good start.

The bar at the Tally Ho

I left the pub and I immediately found myself crossing the county boundary into Hampshire.  20 minutes later, I was at my next pub, making Eversley perhaps unique in the Good Beer Guide for having pubs listed in two different counties.  

Arriving at pub two.

967.  Golden Pot, Eversley

How does the old folk-punk song go?  "You're pretty on the outside, but inside you're an ugly trog" or something like that, well that came to mind for this pub with it's "chocolate box, picture postcard, ivy clad, hanging basket" exterior (sounds like the kind of nonsense the GBG would write).  Inside, a dull stripped back interior geared up for dining, with that horrible 'bookcase wallpaper' and a few miserable looking staff, one of whom served me an overly warm pint of Dorset Jurassic that she didn't even try to top up properly.  I returned to the outside (it was a muggy day) where a friendly young couple were force feeding a small Twild some chewable pub fayre.  To break my despondance, a young smiling barman appeared, simply to put thumbs up at me Fonzarelli style, and disappear again.  Maybe he'd sensed my earlier dissatisfaction or he'd had a call from the Tally Ho about a harsh pub visitor in the local area!   I went back inside and noticed I had an interesting 50/50 choice to make, lemongrass or sweet mandarin and grapefruit?  But I'm talking about the hand soaps of course, and that really sums it up. 

Chilling with my Jurassic at the Golden Pot.

A good half an hour's trek and I was in Yateley, wending my way gradually back towards Blackwater, for pub number three of the day.....

968.  Dog & Partridge, Yateley

As I took the obligatory pub photo, I could hear the sound of a group heartily laughing from within.  "Ahhh, this is more like it" I thought, "pub customers!"  And on the face of it, easily the most pubby pub so far although when I say that, the kind of pub which has not allowed any heterosexual male to have any input into pub design for the last 500 years.  Weird gold tinsel hung from a door frame, cushions wedged under my bum stopped me getting properly sat down, and a plastic parrot presided over the pub from behind the bar.  It was all very 1980's feel, and I thought Agadoo or Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini (Timmy Mallet version) were about to start playing.  Live music by a man called "David Julian" was pending, maybe he covers such songs.  The locals were laughing like drains though, and that is what you want to hear in a pub even more.  But the burning question of course, 'was I going to be served by Sophie?'  Well I suspect it was her, a studious looking girl with a no nonsense, hardened edge and an arm tattoo which am sure freaked her parents out when she got it midway through her GCSE exams (perhaps).  She warned me off a gimmicky Caledonian ale named after the pub, in favour of a Wadworth Horizon.  She even has two sugars in her tea like me, I don't know anyone who does that!  To complete the pub 1980's theme, two men came in and asked 'Sophie' about the range of lagers.  She answered them in the most dismissive way possible whilst still being polite, but they seemed outraged there was no Peroni on draught.  They took their shitty lagers to a little common/village green across from the pub and sulked.  It was that kind of pub.

The lager duo debate the lack of Peroni on the village green

A microcosm of the pub decor in the Dog & Partridge.

The bus stop was opposite the pub, but it was 26 minutes late so I bonded with two 'oldsters' (the woman reminding me of Catherine Tates Nan character but with better language).  Whilst discussing pub strategy (I love getting people into BRAPA) she 'out of blue' became the SIXTH stranger this year to ask why I haven't yet been to Henley-on-Thames.  What is it with that place?  Am I missing something?  Does the pub have a special BRAPA mural or something?  

Back in Blackwater, well blow me down, the pub is actually open!!  Fanfare time(!)

Mr Bumble (taken pre-opening time)

969.  Mr Bumble, Blackwater

So was it worth the wait?  Well, it was a very different pub from the previous three, perhaps too far the other way.  Pubby yes, but perhaps a little bit tired and worn  if I was being harsh.  Think of a cross between Bracknell's Cannie Man and Wokingham's Crispin.  Two young men in caps drinking lager (does anyone drink ale in this part of the world?) were at the bar chuckling on their phones at something they called a "herbiquious border".  Did they mean a herbaceous border?  They repeated 'herbiquious' about 10 more times, even quizzing a local chav girl about it (she wore the same red leather "Thriller" jacket as me so I liked her style).  The staff had been friendly, just on the right side of quirky, and a 16 year old barmaid appeared and started pouring herself as many different combinations of shandy as she could, explaining to a man (her Dad?) that it was some kind of quality control taste testing exercise?  I think bitter and lime with a hint of cherryade won, but I might be making that last bit up.  She looked a bit pie-eyed by the end, as I ran for the train.

Mr Bumble from the inside

The Simey BRAPA Everitt of two months ago would probably have jumped off the train at Sandhurst, to complete the pub there.  Am sure I had time, but after recent bad experiences making train connections, I took the cautious approach all the way back to Paddington via Reading (though I fell asleep on both legs of the journey).  

This next pub, I'd been recommended a few times and it was very close to Paddington station.....

View from an upstairs window.

970.  Victoria, Paddington, London

Wow, sometimes a pub is such a hive of activity that it's hard to keep track of what is going on, not good when you fancy yourself as a pub blogger extraordinaire!  A bit like Waterloo's Kings Arms last month, this was a small but heaving old fashioned pub, this even more deliciously ornate, but with a very cosmopolitan crowd of mainly European tourists.  It must be Heritage or Grade 2 listed, and I would love to be first customer in here early one morning.  As I breathed in and was (eventually) served by one of the 4 men squashed into the tiny bar (superb Crate Rye beer), it was evident seating was at a premium.  I perched at the bar, next to two girls who first I thought were Spanish (cos they were eating olives) near a local man who looked like Jesus in a tracksuit just along from them.   One barman was responsible for attaching two menus with a paper clip, another girl sat in a cupboard under the stairs folding knives and forks into napkins (sorry, serviettes!) Who was most bored? Probably him as she had the additional task of reassuring folk that the toilets were down a miniature staircase underground.  The girls went outside to smoke, leaving their bags and olives unattended for ages.  I was dying for an olive, and kept slyly moving my hand closer to the bowl but Jesus H. Christ kept staring at me in a judgemental way.  When the girls returned, Jesus told them they shouldn't leave bags and food unattended in a British pub, "things can get stolen" and he motioned his head towards the olives and then me.  Bastard Jesus!  I reassured the blonde one I was honest, but was I?  Anyway, she had more important things on her mind as a barman was asking where she was going to watch the Euro final (hence they must be French or Portuguese).  Then, the barman who'd served me (he'd seemed a bit fragile at the time) asked the manager for a private word (not possible in this pub) and ended up saying "I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE, MY SHIFT IS OVER!" and stormed out.  Very soap opera.  Manager told the blonde one it was because of her!  Was this all a joke or serious?  Thank goodness Boak & Bailey had just tweeted me to ask me to explore the hidden upstairs rooms (very ornate and lovely, with a man feeding his Twild, but I was more pleased to get out of the bar, it was all getting too much!)  Phew, crazy pub.

Approaching the pub

Brilliant pint.  Love Rye beers.

I want an olive, but I must resist temptation, and Jesus sees all.

Judgey Jesus and the French girls, before I moved to the other side of the bar.

Well, that was a classic pub experience and summed up the day, it was the people who made it, not necessarily the pubs themselves.  

Back at Kings Cross, I still had time to nip into one of my pubs of the year, the Scottish Stores where it was reassuringly quiet so I could sit in MY seat (nice to have a seat when you go somewhere once a month for one hour maximum!)  We must though mention the ridiculously heavy Budvar glass I was served in, I could barely lift the thing, even the handle was heavier the a half glass on it's own, and why was I being served real ale in a Budvar glass?  No wonder all the Euro kids were nodding at me in a "he knows his beer" kinda way!  The pub did tell me I should buy a second pint and distribute the weight evenly which I admit was a good comeback.

And then it was back to York, and play the usual little game of "avoid the north eastern racegoer pissed up scum being anti-social in York station on Saturday night".  Hurrah, I won! 

Si

BRAPA - Three More Sheffield Pubs

It was only whilst I was on the train from L**ds to Sheffield after work on Tuesday night that I realised The Wellington (one of my two planned for the night) doesn't open Mon or Tues.  Had I remembered back to to 8th December 2004, I'd had the same problem before a Hull City away match!

You've gotta adapt in this game, and soon I was waiting for a 95 bus after a hippy student girl had treated us to a hoopla demonstration with her two hoops.  Talented, flexible, but weird.  You wouldn't get this in Doncaster or Barnsley.  The bus driver looked at my PlusBus ticket like it was something alien, before accepting it, and the passengers were young and full of excited nervous tension as we climbed up the hill to Walkley.

963.  Walkley Cottage Inn, Sheffield

I suspected I'd been here before a different Sheff Wed v Hull City match but couldn't be sure.  22nd Sept 2007 would be the date, all I can remember is a friendly but dribbling very old man, lots of red furnishings, quite foody but quite traditonally estatey at the same time.  It was definitely the same place, as an elderly Jarvis Cocker greeted everyone who entered (apart from me), and the two chaps behind the bar were very friendly.  Such estate style pubs are great if you are a boy with a toy truck and no concept of grimy pub carpets, whilst ancient couples kept arriving to sit in "their places" as they probably have done for decades.  Glad I hid at the far end.  There was quite a bit of teatime eating going on, and Mr Mustard (aptly named) but so much squeezy English mustard on his burger, his plate was a sea of yellow.  As I started Tweeting about it, Mrs Mustard stared glaring at me from the far end in defence of her hubbie, either that or she was watching the news with a wonky eye.  He sucked up the burger in one, and when they got up to leave, he lingered because he wanted to see the weather forecast and shouted a load of abuse at Mrs M for leaving before him.  Lovely couple.

£3.14 for my Hook Norton, must be in posh Sheffield now (mustard is just visible).

964.  Princess Royal, Sheffield

The best pub location for me, is hidden away down a side street or two, a little house like any other (like the Wellington in York, or the Garibaldi in St Albans).  Okay, this was on a corner but the cat sleeping on the pavement and jolly man saying "alright buddy" felt you'd gone to the most local Sheffield GBG entry yet.  It only got better as the first thing I heard was an old man telling the barman "I remember t'days when you couldn't get lager, it wor ale or nothing.  Fuck um."  Under the circs, with such colourful locals, I sat in a secluded snug near two students and admired the etched glass and mirrors.  To give you a brief history of the pub, a man called Dave Gilmour brewed beer and built the pub in the 1920's before he quit admirable pursuits and bored the world with Pink Floyd.  Or something.   A better pub blogger than me might tell you piped music isn't a good thing in a pub, but if it is, it's surely Johnny Cash, especially when it leads to an old man singalong.  Meanwhile, the local pervert was circling the pub saying "Good Evening!" to anyone under the age of 40 (the pub also having an equally fantastic back room with pool table).  Conversation turned to wine, from Bulgaria, leading to joke of the night "do they swear a lot in Vulgaria?"  If you thought that was bad, a man asked if chicken and chorizo were the same thing, his mate later asking if Bulgaria was in Argentina!  What??  I don't think these folk leave Sheffield much, but when you have this pub, why would you?

965.  Closed Shop, Sheffield

An even shorter walk took me here, and good job, I was bursting for the loo and had not been brave enough to ask in the last pub, it'd have caused some kind of scandal.  This too was a wonderful pub, a bit of a modern twist and a younger clientele and it was little surprise that the barman was a friendly little chap with a beard longer than his whole body.  Now this was the kind of pub where you could get lost trying to find the loo, and no one would bat an eyelid.  They were trying a bit hard perhaps on the 'sense of humour' element, and it was all a bit pricey with hilariously titled burgers, a Jarvis Cockerel burger on the menu, and more traditional bar 'grub' with the tag line "Do You Want Pies With That?"  Hmmm.  A 'gin garden' also filled me with dread, but it was impossible to dislike the pub, and piped Punk Rock was even better than piped J.Cash.  I'd asked for a pint of Barnsley Stout but when he looked confused, I realised it was 'Barney' Stout ....  amazing how your mind gets into that South Yorkshire zone innit?  If I was a student again, I'd be in here a lot!

Interestingly,  one of the most open pubs I've been to recently!

Man with "Geek" t-shirt sums up clientele. 

I got a bus back into town (same bus driver, no queries over ticket this time!) but had 30 mins to kill and another weird student girl (Hoopla's sister?) jumped off at the Rutland Arms.  IT'S A SIGN, I thought.  When I complete my 1,000 pubs, I'll do a top 10 and this pub could well be in it.  Love it.  We both ordered half a Ella IPA (beer of the night), she sat with her scawny boyf, I didn't.

What is it with Sheffield and Gin?  It's depressing enough!

Trying NOT to stalk bus girl, honestly.  Never did work out what the green plastic thing was.

I'm now in an annoying position where I have 4 Sheffield pubs to do (one North, one Kelham Island, one West, one South).  I can't do Wellington on a Tuesday, so I'll have to think very strategically for next Tuesday.  For now, I've got Berkshire to plan on Saturday so see you then.  Better see what Wales are doing now.

Bye, Si

BRAPA - More Ales in the Yorkshire Dales

Trying to keep tourists at bay with my own beermat in Muker.

It was time to get back in Dad's car and tick off some of those remote pubs in that most difficult of counties (so far), North Yorkshire.

You might know that on recent car trips, we've been a bit annoyed by SatNav woman's constant chattering and heavy-handed, unhelpful directioning.  Dad revealed he'd found a setting called "minimum verbosity" to make our journey less annoying.  Interestingly though, you can only get this setting in a male voice.  Absolutely true.

Arriving in a blustery Hawes

959.  The Crown, Hawes

After stocking up on Wensleydale cheese at the local creamery,  I was pleased to see the pub open and inviting at 10:55am and there was already a healthy gaggle of tourists queuing at the bar ordering coffee (spit!)    I scanned the beers on the blackboard and went for an "Admans" (a new brewery on me!)  The barmaid/landlady was a fantastic hardworking and jolly lady, I almost felt guilty she had to change the barrel (I only ordered it as a Theakstons protest) but it still tasted like Best Bitter.  Dad's coffee meanwhile was in the shallowest cup ever and was finished in two sips.  With the strains of piped Bangles Eternal Flame emanating from hidden speakers, our friendly host came over and declared "It's July, let's light the fire!"  It went up so quickly, we suspected they had some special Theakstons fuel.  This pub should also be noteworthy for having the most pathetic moose head ever seen on a pub wall.  On the way out, I got talking to a scary man from Blackpool (is there any other sort?) who was enjoying his pubby holiday because his wife was driving their camper van, but she'd made them set off at 5am from Lancaster to get here so he was still complaining.  

....so let's drink average beer and pay a fortune for lunch.

With the sun shining and the scenery spectacular even by Dales standards, we drove down a tight road through the valley to the lovely village of Thoralby where I had a hilarious joke planned (now on ice).  It was exactly 12 noon and the pub should be opening, and as we took the obligatory picture, Dad noticed a sign.  SHUT PUB ALERT!

Opening hours 12-2 and then 6:30-11 but it said due to another holiday, they'd not be opening for lunchtimes.  How does that work then?  They fly back from Magaluf at 6:30pm daily, open pub, leave again 11pm and fly back to Magaluf, repeat daily until holiday is over??

So near, yet so far!

960.  Farmers Arms, Muker

Despite the rain lashing it down by the time we reached Muker (where I had a wee in the outdoor toilets across the road, not realising I wasn't in part of the pub), this pub was the perfect tonic to the Thoralby disappointment.  Friendly barman with Buttertubs t-shirt on sold me 2 pints of Buttertubs ale in a Buttertubs glass which I put on a Buttertubs beermat.  It was the only guest ale, it was just as well, but it was much better than the Southwold.   Despite finding a hidden back corner of the pub, a huge group of idiot old walkers decided to sit right up against my back, despite having the whole pub to aim at.  Why?  Okay, so they had two lovely "HMV" dogs but it was no excuse.  Dad spied a hidden snug so we moved, they couldn't even take the hint from my AIDS beermat. This pub must be a rare example of where an extension has actually worked in it's favour.  Food seemed to be present, one of those dumb waiters kept making Macaroni Cheese (NOT Mac n Cheese I was pleased to note, flippin' Yanks!) appear from a magical hidden kitchen upstairs.  Piped Kate Rusby could be heard, very twee n Yorkshire ("ey up, I had an almond slice and a cuppa, then went for a walk in the bluebell wood before supper" you know the shizz).  Barman then proclaimed "Was that you I saw lurking in the roadside near Richmond with a camera?"  It was hard to know who he was addressing, and as it turned out, four people (including me) admitted the crime.  A sign said the toilet floors were wet due to the "humidity at this time of year".  Best wet toilet floor excuse ever?  

Taken from the toilets across the road.

It's a Butter Tubs love in at the Farmers

Dad looks for Grinton on the ordnance survey map.

 Driving around the Dales today was quite quirky,  I'd seen a baby in a hedge earlier, now we saw a monkey hanging from a tree.  We arrived in Grinton without realising. 

Happy times just before the fall.

961.  Bridge Inn, Grinton

Having had the obligatory photo taken, I was vetting it a bit too closely whilst walking on the grass verge round the corner to the pub entrance.  Suddenly, I just went A over T and emerged from a ditch with blood pouring through a hole in my leg!  Best BRAPA pub entrance ever?  I think so.  Suddenly, things seemed to feel a bit more North Eastern/Cumbrian than North Yorkshire, and it wasn't just the Jennings sign on the pub.  It was quite a spectacular place, with a cosy wood panelled bar and a huge (more foody) lounge with leather upholstery.  The globe, tropical fish tank, and gramophone are the kind of features that give a pub that extra atmosphere, especially as the food orders seemed all to be processed by someone pushing a few buttons on a microwave (from what I could hear, am sure it was all fresh produce from some local farm, river, smokery or some nonsense).  In fact, had I stolen one of the HMV dogs from Muker, I could have used the gramophone to recreate the scene by shoving it's head through it.  Barman was very excited by a Marston's guest called Selador, nice but his "I can't wait to knock off to pull myself a pint of this!" was a bit OTT unless he was the village drunk in disguise.  He certainly was very chatty with Dad.  A fine pub this.  

With Thoralby closed earlier, we decided to leave Bellerby (yet again) so it has a Dales companion on a future visit up here (something like Reeth might be back in by then aswell, who knows) so we headed north through Richmond to another one of those "how do you do it on public transport?" efforts.

Pub, hidden church and graveyard.

962.  Shoulder of Mutton, Kirby Hill

They say luck evens itself out in the crazy world of pub ticking ('they' being 'me', just now) and we were kind of lucky here as we entered to be told by the youngest landlord in the history of BRAPA that he was closing at 3pm.  Uh-oh.  Well, this wasn't on Whatpub or in the GBG!  I asked if he would mind us having a half of the appropriately named "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" by Mithril (it was a bit tart and not entirely sure it was right) and he had no problem with us staying.  As the one local shuffled off, he chatted with us about the pub history and it turned out a lovely looking historic archway was a 1986 'add on' so you never can tell.  He also told us they'd tried to remove Black Sheep as a regular ale, but the locals boycotted the pub til they put in back on, but he puts a special cask on for two heavy drinking locals who usually manage to get through it in a day.  We didn't want to outstay our welcome, just relieved we'd got there before 3pm and been allowed to have a drink!

We popped into York's brilliant Fox (pub of the year?) for a swift half and discussion of future North Yorkshire tactics, I MUST be getting close the finishing this county now but it doesn't feel like it!

I'll be back on Tuesday for more Sheffield related fun, I might even hop on a supertram this time.

Si

BRAPA - June Review / July Preview (2016)

As the BRAPmobile tears across the British countryside in search of it's next pub roadkill, we need to reflect on a wonderfully productive June, and see what lies ahead in July......

June Review

41 pubs in a month is the second best EVER, only April this year could beat that and all I can say is my Scottish holiday was more productive than I could have ever imagined with 20 pubs in three and a bit days.  I also had a superb day out with the work gang in Greenfield & Mossley.  Hell, even very east Berkshire was straightforward and enjoyable, and Sheffield's bubbling nicely on midweeks.  Finally, the Greater Manchester day was joyous in it's Joseph Holt's simplicity.

Picking three pubs of the month is near impossible, but here goes based on my experience on the day:

1.  Abbotsford Hotel, Ayr
2.  Shakespeare, Kelham Island, Sheffield
3.  Fleece, Mossley

July Review

I finish June on 958 pubs, which means another good month and I should manage to get my 1,000 up in August (though I will drop back below it of course when the 2017 GBG comes out).

A '5 Saturday month' will help immensely.  Firstly, we'll be kicking off with a Dad chauffeur day in the Dales as I look to complete my outstanding five pubs up there.  It has to be achievable despite some funny opening times, yes I'm looking at you Bellerby!   We are back in Berkshire a week later for Part 6, heading towards the south of the county and dabbling in Hampshire.  Week 3 is a TBA, am thinking North Yorkshire again (finally getting up Richmond way) unless someone craps on my BRAP.  A week after that, a group of York friends is coming on a Morecambe BRAPA trip with me in our old punk festival stamping ground - hopefully there are better beers now than in Davy Jones Locker.  And the month ends with the Hull City gang summer beezer, a pre-season friendly at Nottingham Forest where I have two West Bridgford pubs to do.

On midweek nights, I'll keep cracking on with outer Sheffield to a finish.  Still got a fair bit to go at, but once done (and don't shout this too loudly), Hazlehead MUST be back on the agenda.  No holidays off work in July, but 30 pubs is still an achievable target in my mind.

Right, I think I've rambled enough,  Stick around for my rambling pub reviews though won't ya?  Si