BRAPA IN ...... METRO MINIS (MORE BLOG ON THE TYNE LINE)

Four GBG pubs needed on this section of the Metro

"Are ye doing anything nice this weekend?" says the friendly matronly lady on reception at famed Geordie dosshouse, the Quayside Travelodge, on Friday last week.  "I am actually, I've got this big book with 4500 pubs in it and I'm visiting a few of them up here tonight and tomorrow" I reply.  The two younger receptionists rolled their eyes and smirked.  I didn't care.

"Okay, I'll put you in the quiet part of the hotel, up on the third floor at the end, away from the stag and hens ..... not that we have any in!" she quickly adds.  Ironic really then, as I walked along long darkened corridors full of notices saying 'shush, quiet zone', that when I went to slot the card in my door hole, loud noises from the room next door suggested it wasn't the only slotting of holes going on.  Typical BRAPA luck! 

Traumatised, and not even got to a pub yet!

Then I tried to be too clever and walked to Manors, which seemed the quickest way to get on the Metro.  But who knew it had an overground station too?  Well, by the time I located the underground, and a train had been cancelled, I realised it might be a race against time to get all 4 pubs done before closing time!  

First stop, furthest one out, was Monkseaton, very close to Whitley Bay where I'd ended my previous trip.  This station pub looked nicely done .......

Experienced (but not old by any means) fellow pub ticker Duncan Mackay told me that Left Luggage Room, Monkseaton (1739 / 2956) was one of his favourite Micropubs ever, and I'm sure he's visited a lot more than me.  Problem is, the circumstances I found myself in were a chaotic 'three deep at the bar / who is actually waiting to get served and who is just loitering?' situation.  So I had to imagine how perfect this pub could be on quiet Tuesday morning, and you could appreciate the care gone into renovating the old building in a York Tap / Durham Waiting Room type of way.  I had to work hard not to be funnelled into a queue, got my elbows in the gap, and to my surprise, everyone dissolved away very quickly and one of the army of staff (well three) trying to clear the back log of customers served me immediately.  I'm pretty sure she should've given up on the Arbor which was obviously reaching the bottom of the barrel, but she was determined to get a full pint of it out, come hell or high water, yanking the pump to the max, despite clocking my concerned expression!  Is this why it has taken this oft mentioned pre-emptive so long to actually reach the GBG?  As it was, it was an okay pint, no more no less.  I just had to figure out where to perch.  I went down to the left of the bar, wedged between bar and toilets, a young bearded man on Untappd, a quirky rhino head with sunglasses hovering above, a shiny Newcastle Brown mirror behind, board games in front of me.  It was the most microey scene ever!  Eventually, I realised most people were standing for no reason, and seats were available towards the back.  I commandeered a table of 4, quickly distancing myself from it when a group looked like they might want to sit down.  Though they'd just come over for a gossip about Death in Paradise or something.  Not a relaxing experience, but I can kind of imagine how it could be!

Busy Friday evening at the bar

Lovely mirror

View from my wedged corner

Finally got a seat!

To carry on the frenetic start to the night, I went to stand on the wrong platform and missed the next Metro out!  So after a long wait and a sly wee behind a bin in a shadowy corner, I managed to successfully catch the next one to Tynemouth, where I had two ticks and new high levels of BRAPA discipline was required to avoid the Tynemouth Lodge Hotel, seriously a candidate for my favourite all time Tyne & Wear pub.  

The word 'Tynemouth' was embedded in this one too ......

Always love a good club to mix things up a bit, and the cheerful sense of well-being was in evidence from the moment I stepped inside the Tynemouth Social Club (1740 / 2957) , no need to buzz for entry, show a CAMRA card, Beer Guide or sign a guestbook here, a young barman dressed like the new detective from Death in Paradise greeted me with a kind smile and I ordered the first ale I saw, just grateful to have room to 'breathe'.  Such a bright place too, and rowdy, blokes behind me played darts, giving each other bear hugs every time a double was downed, and at the far end, a raft of snooker tables had more balls whizzing about than errrrm Room 94 in Quayside Travelodge.  My ale had a very unusual taste, but I'm sure it was deliberate and I grew to enjoy it!  After a few minutes perched by a circular posing table (seats were impossible to come by), drinking in the glorious atmosphere (there was a Blind Sooty charity box, as we know, sign of a proper place), I realised my legs were tired and a sign behind me says "Upstairs is open you know, why don't ya come on up?" so I did.    Behind some frosted door in front of giant bay windows looking down onto the Tynemouth streets, I said hello to a duo having a deep and meaningful, and a bearded dude appeared from nowhere and said 'alreet', and then asked upstairs barman and friend Nathan "can ya put on some bopping tunes because all I can hear is the radiator!"  He had a point, the contrast between here and downstairs was huge, and I felt a bit bad for taking myself out of the throbbing clubbub (hubbub in a club), as comfortable as the bench seating was up here in this classy supremely furbished well appointed club room.  But I couldn't linger, time was ticking.

Wave to sooty, boys and girls

Darts gang and green vomiting bucket

Chillin' out upstairs

Handily, the other Tynemouth tick was situated back at the Metro station ........

So reminiscent of the Left Luggage Room, but with a slightly cheaper feel, I can only assume Platform 2 Craft Ale Bar, Tynemouth (1741 / 2958) is the brainchild of the same people or there could be a plagiarism case to answer!  Joking of course, no quirky rhino head in here, just an ostrich one.  And you don't have to be a detective on Death in Paradise to realise these are two very different beasts.  The staff mumbled a bit, but seemed canny, and I got this Toasted Coconut Stout because it was called 'Shy Bairns' and I like Falkirk F.C. and what a triumph of an beer it was, though not very easy to down when you can hear a train approaching!  I swivelled on my heels to see the perfect corner seat, but just at that second, a bloke just appeared from nowhere and swooped.  I hate him for eternity.   It might sound harsh but was I ever going to get a decent seat on pub arrival tonight?  I had to resort to a perching stool in the centre of the room.  Not ideal, but great for people watching and a woman who looked like my Mum was with a bloke who looked like Nigel Adkins, whilst Geordie Kyle from Neighbours put his airpods in and rested his eyes.  Two old blokes, a sort of ageing Ant and Dec sat opposite me with the words "You've got company whether you like it or not" so I pulled out the GBG to invite conversation but they were too busy prepping Saturday Night takeaway and quashing drink driving convictions to care (Ant was on the left facing me, those are the rules).  

Great ale, great mouth shape

The irrational loathing was real ..... THAT WAS MY SEAT! :(

Ostrich, board games, NOTHING like Left Luggage Room!

I made sure I'd timed the Metro much better on this occasion, even having time for a bag of Pickled Onion Monster Munch (gotta have a break from Mini Cheddars occasionally) as the air became icier as we hurtled on past 10pm and I just hoped Wetherspoons last orders policy wasn't too harsh ......

Once in Wallsend, now approaching 10:30pm and I nearly ended up going in the wrong pub .....

Manhattans ... was so close to going in here instead!

But then I saw a courtyard, a couple of bouncers, a huge "WE'RE IN THE 2020 GBG" banner, and knew I was in the right place ......

The two bouncers were too engrossed in conversation to open the door for me at Ritz. Wallsend (1742 / 2959) and wish me a pleasant evening (I should've said "don't you know who I am?") but a third bouncer lurking inside the doorway seemed like he wanted me to stop and chat, so I said "alreet pet, aye" and scurried off to the bar like a rat that's had three pints.  I went for the Raspberry Porter cos it was Maxim, then a guy got the same, and then the pumpclip was immediately turned around so yet another bottom of the barrel one.  Again, it tasted decent though.  Something about former Cinema 'Spoons which just seem that bit more rewarding than the others.  I'm thinking things like the Art Picture House in Bury and the Coronet in Holloway, but definitely not the Ritz in Lincoln.  Blyth last week was decent too.  A lone bloke near me ordered an 11th hour fish n chips and forced an insipid smile .... no sign of 'last orders' being called here though the hours listed 11pm and we were marching on towards quarter to.  Wondering if I've ever been in a 'Spoons at last orders?  Perhaps they never close.  If you've had an experience, please comment below and tell me what it was like.  But there's always time for me to make a tit of myself.  As we know, finding the bogs in 'Spoons is often notoriously difficult, and the longest walk that most of their customers get all week.  I circled the pub twice, before finding it buried at the front of the pub down a dark corridor near a strange glass beer viewing window!  And if I'd wondered why I'd received so many amused glances, I'd had my flies undone the entire time.  Brilliant(!)  I could've died of embarrassment, but at least it'd have been a great place to go out in ..... I guess you could've described that as 'death in paradise'. 

Still lively for 10:45pm

I managed to get back to Manors and my Travelodge without further incident, and all was now quiet mercifully in the room next door, so after a nice cuppa and sandwich, I got myself straight to sleep as I had some more tricky pubs on the agenda the following morning.  Oh, and we're on the verge of a landmark GBG moment for the year!

Walking back to the hotel!

Join me tomorrow or Friday for that, thanks for reading, enjoy your days!

Si

 

BRAPA ...... FEBRUARY REVIEW / MARCH PREVIEW (2020 EDITION)

Hi Folks,

I might have had my doubts going into February about my ability to reach the numbers I wanted, and to maintain my enthusiasm without the usual 'BRAPA Winter Holiday', but it has proved to be superb month from start to finish, 37 new Good Beer Guide pubs and 2 cheeky pre-emptives well beyond my level of expectations back on the 1st.

It all began by the fire in a surprisingly good Bridlington Wetherspoons, and it ended like this, posing with a bloke called Wig and lovely Mrs W at one of those rare spectacular micros, one of the hardest Tyne & Wear 'ticks' in High Spen.

Of course, I need to blog about that and seven other pubs in the coming days, but for now I thought I'd break off and give you a flavour of things as they stand.

Here's a boring stat - 23 of the 37 pubs were all in the North East.  Okay, so various storms like Citra and Steffan Dennis have hit hard (as did my sickness and diarrhoea I don't like to talk about).  I've decided to give Cumbria a wide berth for now in case it is snowing and everything is cancelled, but Durham and Tyne of Wear are going great guns, and I'm even taking baby steps in Northumberland.  "Why eye ga ga goo" as the baby's no doubt say up there.

11 left in Durham

11 pubs left in Durham, 10 if I say 'well, I tried High Hesleden but they were on holiday so sod 'em' (which of course, I wouldn't do if I was in the 'completion' years of ticking, but as a first attempt at finishing County Durham, I have no qualms).  Edmundbyers gives me sleepless nights, Westgate is not much better but perhaps their opening hours on a Saturday aren't as bad as I thought.  

One left in Tyne & Wear

You can mentally colour in High Spen and Swalwell in your minds, leaving just Ryhope.  This twins well with Durham ticks like Seaton and Seaham so am feeling pretty chill about FINALLY completing T & W sometime in March/April.

25 approx left in Cumbria

Plenty of work to do still in Cumbria, but weather permitting, I'll get back on it in March.  In a High Hesleden kinda way, the Gilrcrux Caravan Shack I'm going to ignore based on my failed January visit, Great Corby has technically been de-guided due to a change of ownership - this wouldn't necessarily stop me going but I'm not ruling out skipping it!  A trip to 'outer' Carlisle is needed, Appleby and Kirkoswald shouldn't be TOO bad, and a Ravenglass-Boot railway trip when the weather really improves is high on my agenda.  Aim is to have it done by end of August.  

I've only really just started Northumberland but it isn't a county exactly chock-a-block with GBG pubs, so a couple of nice spring/summer weekends and who knows, could I get it finished before the 2021 GBG drops?  Problem is, ticks in the likes of Alwinton and Rochester give me a massive headache, public transport options seem zero, as do nearby taxi firms or even an average sized town with a transport service!  I need a friendly driver, or as a nice man from Swansea called Nigel suggested, get well in with Northumberland CAMRA and try and get on one of their minibus trips!  Not ruling it out.  I'll go in the boot, you won't even know I'm there. 

I've been thinking about where to go for June's BRAPA Summer Holiday recently.  I'd changed my mind from Cornwall to Dorset, and then thought Mansfield as a base to do Notts!  Has anyone been on holiday to Mansfield before?  Comment below.  Is six days there too long?  If not, perhaps the Northumberland coast could be a wise move, keep this year's North Eastern theme going.

Some of the pubs this month have been simply stunning, so I'd like to nominate 3 to go into the hat for 'BRAPA Pub of the Year'.  These are, in no particular order:

1. Black Bull, Frosterley

2. 1B Tap, Great Harwood

3. Three Horseshoes, Leamside

One dog and his man - at the excellent Three Horseshoes in Leamside

Lots of honourable mentions too, the afore mentioned Wig's Place in High Spen, a rare pint of Bass in Winterton's excellent George Hogg, lovely pub cat at Wolsingham.

Anything I wasn't so keen on?  Isn't there always?!  Moderation in Reading was utterly dreadful, Three Horseshoes in Running Waters tried but never convinced me it belonged in the GBG, Tap & Vent in Longridge was such a non event, and the Benjamin Fawcett 'Spoons in Driffield just wasn't very good. 

Whittlesey CAMRA(?) probably enjoying the Moderation as much as I did

But on the whole, a really pleasing month .......

 Meeting Duncan Mackay at Wheatsheaf, Barton on t' Humber

My sister worries her boyfriend is becoming a hipster

Fun at Bratfut Beer Festival in Saltaire

Sam Smith's Beermats remind me I shouldn't be taking this photo

March Preview

It ain't gonna be easy.  Only 4 Saturday's in the month, and for one of them, I'll be in Lanzarote (NOT that I'm complaining too much about that, there'll probably be a micropub somewhere if I look closely enough, there always is).  

That means I need to do something I was pretty tardy with in Feb, and get back on the South Yorks Thu/Fri evening trail to supplement by weekend trips.  I still have stuff to do in Hatfield, Mapplewell, North Anston, Thorpe Hesley and even bloody Sheffield itself! 

As for the Saturday's, Lichfield gives us a rare break from the North East.   21st March I've got to decide whether to return to Cumbria or be a bit more reserved, weather dependent.  I've been told the pub in Westgate, Durham opens early on this day, so a good opportunity to get it done?  And on 28th, Dad and I are lining up a Durham day which should help me get somewhere near completion.

Redundancy Update

You might remember back in September I was told that I'd be losing my job at Yorkshire Bank where I've worked for over 18 years!  Well, we had a further announcement last week, and without saying anything definite, it sounds like they want us gone by 18th Dec this year!  

So what does that mean for BRAPA?

Well, I feel like I'm at a bit of a crossroads in my life now.  40 years old, and I don't think I want another office job for 19 more years, I certainly don't REALLY want to work in a bank again!  Money depresses me, unless I own it.  Redeployment isn't really an option, and I want the redundancy payout anyway.

You know those smug buggers who say "I love my life because my job is what I love doing .... and I get paid for it hahhahahaha *throws back head theatrically*)  Well, wouldn't it be nice to make BRAPA work for me?  It might be impossible.  But as the world's first 'pub vlogger', being better at Social Media (I need to get my Instagram back up and running), online store selling BRAPA shirts with slogans like "Not all heroes wear capes ..... but they are called Martin".  I don't want it all to be words and half-baked ideas though, I need to take ACTION!

I'd kick myself for not giving it a go, but I just don't have the time when working full time, so a couple of months at the beginning of 2021 to take stock, still in York, CV all updated, careers advice sought, some part time work to keep me ticking over (don't wanna put all my eggs in one basket), well that's the plan in my mind at present.

But like I say, nothing set in stone, our next bank announcement end of April / beginning of May could change it all again!   BRAPA is my passion though (BRAPA tattoos on forearms day after I leave the bank?), and it isn't stopping any time soon ;)

Thanks for reading, give me a big thumbs up and click below to subscribe (see, practising already!)

Si 

BRAPA ...... IS IN BLYTH SPIRIT (I FOUGHT WALLAW, AND WALLAW WON)

A rare Sunday BRAPA outing last week was brought about by several factors.  My sickness and diarrhoea bug (which I don't like to talk about, but seems to have longevity!) had ruined my previous weekend, I'd done all my Sunday chores on the Friday, and with Lanzarote looming large, I need to get my quotas in where I can.

Still, I didn't book my Newcastle train ticket online until about 1pm, hot footed it to York station, from where I took the Metro to Whitley Bay and then a bus to Blyth, for a rare foray into Northumberland.  (I could've got a bus direct from Haymarket, but it was broad as it was long).

For once this month, it was a glorious sunny day despite a stiff, icy breeze.  This was my first glimpse of the Northumbrian coast that people wax lyrical about, even this far south, it looked beautiful in the low afternoon sun and I'm looking forward to delving deeper, with trips to the likes of Alnmouth, Seahouses, Holy Island and Everything-by-the-Bloody-Sea in the coming months.

It was a debut for me in Blyth of course, it did look rather 'Spartan' (haha, sorry) though the two minute walk from bus stop to Wetherspoons and back again probably means I'm not in a position to judge the town fully!

I was a bit confused on arrival as you enter into a sort of foyer, doors going off from every angle, the odd staircase, and an original rust bucket of an old projector as a centrepiece, to signify the former cinema use of Wallaw, Blyth (1735 / 2952). Luckily, I chose the correct door (always go left if in doubt, BRAPA rule) and saw the bar in the distance of the giant sprawling room.  I wasn't prepared for what followed.  Probably a result of the newly released £20 polymer, a crazy dude had various notes strewn across the bar and the barman was talking him through them.  "But why is the queen on the £20?"  he asks.  "She's on them all!" replies the barman, giving me a glance as if to say 'you see what I have to deal with on a daily basis?'  It then got more bizarre when the bloke replies "well .... well, why don't they put someone younger on like Princess Diana".  "BUT SHE'S DEAD!" squeaks the poor barman.  "Oh" replies the bloke and shuffles off.  Coming in from the left, a middle aged lady with one of those 'I want to speak to your manager' fringes.  "I'd ordered a double vodka and coke for table 74, but I'm convinced it has NO vodka in at all!" she says, passing it over.  Barman, patience personified, gives it a sniff, murmurs to a colleague who does the same.  "I can smell the vodka" they concur, and so could I, from where I was stood!  No wonder that, in all the mayhem, I couldn't find a 50p off 'Spoons voucher in my bag.  One of those experiences where I suspect they plant 'actors' in pubs for my benefit.  Dumbfounded, I plonked myself and my powerful Jurassic Coast bitter away from everywhere, and I supped it carefully in the midst of a Sunday afternoon gentle hubbub, wondering exactly what I'd just witnessed!

Just missing an emergency beermat

"I'VE SEEN THINGS IN PUBS YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE"

If Wallaw is one of the more modern Wetherspoons, then I think it is one of the nicer ones.  I feel that compared with some of the early examples in North London (New Crown in Southgate and Railway Bell in Barnet), new ones (I always think of the impossibly shite Hain Line in St Ives Cornwall) don't seem to have had as much care taken over the design etc. 

Anyway, the Jurassic Ale wasn't the most neckable but neck it I did, and ran around the corner to where the bus was standing, ready to take me back down the line to Whitley Bay.

I hopped off next in a place called Seaton Sluice - I once met a friendly guy from there at 5am in L**ds after we'd both missed the last train home the previous day, and he had to be a best man at 3pm!

I crossed a road, walked across a grassy knoll, and the pub was standing alone, looking proudly North Eastern and welcoming with one of those blue stars that appears in the Newcastle night sky (like the one in Batman) if the football team are about to win a home game.  Hasn't been seen for a while.

And the sense of 'good feeling' continued into the Melton Constable, Seaton Sluice (1736 / 2953), a pub that felt as though it had been designed with a lazy Sunday afternoon in mind.  Traditional bench seating, wood and glass partitions, good shag on the carpet, and a mixture of wary and welcoming glances from the grizzly blokes at the bar.  All the needed was for the 'human centipede' of lingering Sunday diners to fuck off, and the atmosphere would be perfect.  Fuck off they eventually did, but not without blocking the doorway to re-position their pashminas, scarves and snoods for eternity.  Impatient locals wanting to get out at the same time decided to use the rear exit.  The young barman impressed me also, one of nature's 'great communicators'.  You may think this quality is a pre-requisite of working behind a bar.  Alas, you'd be surprised how many are uncommunicative lumps of misery and silent hatred exist up and down the British Isles.  When he told me to enjoy my drink, it sounded like he meant it.  The perfect seat opened up for me, at 9 o'clock from the bar, enclosed to an extent but within earshot of the regulars, and with a clear run to the bogs.  Perfect BRAPA positioning can 'complete' a pub experience. An old gent appears at my side to hang his coat on a hook, nodding 'alreet' at me.  Proper pub.  The Tyneside Broon went down a treat, another barman told everyone he wasn't going to go to anymore Newcastle Utd games until 'things changed'.  Everyone just said 'HA' and I realised it was time I got a shuffle on.  

Red man smiled, grey grimaced, such are the vagaries of pub ticking!

What we are now calling the 'BRAPA area' in the Melton Constable

Me respecting the water - plus clear route through pub to the Gents so I could respect my own water

The coat of a canny old man

Blind Sooty = Proper Pub (Martin Taylor taught me that)

With the sun rapidly coming down over the south Northumbrian coast, I crossed the road and walked along down to the next pub, which was less than a mile's walk - and the fresh air and exercise did me good, even if I did feel like I could be blown into the sea at any moment, oh well, at least I'd have gone out happy!

Our next pub was listed under the location of 'Old Hartley' in the GBG, and this was all I could think of .....

In truth, the pub looked more like this ......

At the time, I wondered if it was made out of Wensleydale cheese (it isn't) 

Quality entrance mosaic flooring

It seemed impossible to believe that Delaval Arms, Old Hartley (1737 / 2954) wasn't a hotel, or residential in some respect, it just felt so much like some of those hotel bars I've visited in Cumbria, West Dorset and the Isle of Man in recent years, but the GBG doesn't have the 'bed' symbol so there we go (even if the 2020 GBG seems to contain more inaccuracies than any Guide since the ill-fated 1999 edition).  I walked around to the back right of the building, opened a frosted door (yum) where a long narrow room contained much doggage, happy old walkers, and a smiling barmaid.  Like the barman in the Melton Constable, she stood out as 'above average', frequently glancing smiles at me in that sympathetic 'I hope you are ok being the only loner in the pub'.  I smiled back reassuringly in a 'I'm used to it, but if it was 29th Feb, I'd be asking you to marry me right about now' kind of way.   1748 this pub is from, and Grade II listed, and it did have a nice atmosphere as with the dusk outside came the rain, reminding me just how out on a limb you are on this coastline.  Not sure playing 'Coldplay' has ever really enhanced a pub atmosphere, but it says a lot for the Deleval that it didn't ruin it like it would in North Bucks.  The long thin dogs stretched themselves over the limited floorspace towards me, but even then, I couldn't summon the energy to feel anything but love for this pub, this ale was good stuff, zzzzz.  Hang on, I've got a bus to catch, wake up Si!

Friendly people with many dogs somewhere down there

View t'bar

Nice windows

Much to my relief, the bus chugged up only a couple of minutes late, and soon I was unceremoniously dumped in Whitley Bay town centre, like the last passenger of the day which I probably was.

It was pitch black now, and with the wind and rain whipping up a storm around my lugholes, you could say the next (and final) pub was apt .......

I never take heating for granted on entering a micropub, brewery tappy thing, or similar ('bottle shop and tasting room' in this case, says the GBG) , so was delighted to feel the immediate transition to warmth at the Storm Cellar (Tap House), Whitley Bay (1738 / 2955).  The beer serving solutions expert (I'm not sure that was her official title) seemed very motivated, friendly, even offering me a loyalty card which I took with good grace though offering me a pub loyalty card is the equivalent of a TV Quiz show hosted by Armstrong & Osman i.e. Pointless.  I ordered one of their porters with my usually lazy spiel about being 'much needed on a night like this blah blah' and I must say, it was absolutely superb!  One of the best beers I've had all year.  If I could understand my tastebuds and gave enough of a shit, I'd described the malty chocolately coffee-ee overtones and biscuity viscosity, astringent arrangement, like a string quartet playing Beethoven inside my mouth, but I know you don't read my blog for that type of thing.  It warmed the cockles anywho.  A few other customers arrived, good.  Three young lads seemed canny but discussed pentagrams for the most part, or a few seconds at least.  I'd already noted our loyalty card givers lack of North East accent.  So no surprise when she bonded with another bloke cos they were both from Somerset.  "I'm only 30 and I live 20 minutes from Bath" she says, I wondered if there were maths to be done there.  They then both spoke of how they missed the south, finding it a bit of a one horse town up here.  "Croydon gets a bad press, but I love it!" one of them said, switching their attentions to the south east.  "Yeh, but fracking is dangerous" said someone else, I couldn't keep up!  "It sounds weird but I actually like sirens blaring at 3am!".  Errrm, yes it does sound weird.  And I had a Metro train to catch.  

Absolutely wonderful drop

Curious toilet door for the pub goblin?

I couldn't help thinking about fried eggs

Impatient customer goes to seek out staff

Pentagram gang

As tempting as it was to jump off the Metro at Tynemouth or Wallsend for required ticks, I knew I had an early start of Monday, so I grabbed a coffee, juice, and got myself back to York as quickly as I could. 

I'd be back up here the following Friday, which I'll tell you all about in the coming days, though I might do my month end review first!

Thanks for reading as always, Si

BRAPA ...... BY HOOK OR BY CROOK, I'LL FINISH THIS BOOK

For this title to be even more impressive, I'd have to have bid Dad farewell in Crook, and caught the next train to Hook in Hampshire, walked to Hook Common and visited the Crooked Billet.  Not sure how it would compare with today's pubs, but if you've been, please comment below and I'll almost certainly forget to reply!

Just to recap, Father BRAPA and I were having a rather splendid day on the bus 101 route west of Durham City despite some rather inclement weather.  Stanhope, St John's Chapel and Frosterley and all delivered, and more. 

Back at the bus stop in Frosterley, we had one more stop en route to Crook, to a place called Wolsingham.  I kept pronouncing it Woll-singham, but the locals kept correcting me "Wul-singham" and I might be wrong, but I maintain they all need to read a bit more Hilary Mantel or C J Sansom.

As we waited for the bus, and thank the lord we had a shelter, the weather took yet another turn for the worse, which I tried and failed to capture on camera, both with and without filter .....

Bus mercifully arrived with me waving a desperate frozen thumb at it, and the village of Wolsingham wasn't far off.  A quick uphill manoeuvre off the main drag, and the pub was buried down a side street with a majestic pub sign, which had it fallen down in the wind, would have almost severed this hapless pub ticker in two ........

Another understated (apart from its commitment to Cider fame) gem from the west Durham stable of top pubs, the Black Lion, Wolsingham (1732 / 2949) only suffering slightly in that it wasn't the magical Black Bull at Frosterley.  But with pubs like Square & Compass in West Cornforth and Frog & Ferret in Spennymoor in mind, there is something unique about a pub atmosphere in a no frills boozer late on a Saturday afternoon.  I ordered a pub's own 'Old Herbert' ale cos it had a silhouette of a cat smoking a pipe on the pump!  And all became clear when we went to sit at what appeared to be one of the only free seats to find a pub cat curled up asleep.  This must be Herbert then?  Because I respect cats more than most, I softly sat on the bench at the far end, resisting the urge to go in for a stroke too soon!  But Herbert seemed unfazed by any amount of pub clamour, even when some young lads at the bar got excited by Sunderland suddenly starting to win comfortably.  We'd been instructed by Stanhope landlady Diane to say hello to her best friend, Sarah-Jane who works here, but without wishing to 'assume gender' I didn't see anyone who fit the bill ..... so I assume she was off on some Sarah-Jane Adventures (that one's for the kids and nerds of 10 years ago).  Not a lucky pub for Hull City either, we'd been winning 1-0 when we arrived, but lost 2-1 as soon as we got settled here.  Boo!  A fourth really nice pub, could Crook keep it going? 

Pump clip contains a near 'Tiger', words 'Black' and 'Amber' and STILL Hull City lose

Sleeping Herbert with cute jowly mouth

The pub being quite great

The bus into Crook was surprisingly, another one of those minibus things I thought were only reserved for those hairy journeys west of Stanhope.   We were soon back in the town, the rain had stopped, it was getting dark and all was well. 

Rewind back to a bright sunny day on 3rd November 1962, and a 15 year old Father BRAPA was one of 9.484 at Boothferry Park watching Hull City's 1st Round FA Cup tie at home to Crook Town.  Despite taking an early lead, we were 1-4 down by 49 minutes and the ground was stunned.  But a great comeback saw us win 5-4 and Dad has been intrigued by Crook ever since! 57 plus years later, and he's finally got to go.  I hope it lived up to expectations (It didn't).  Another noteworthy moment from that day is that it is the only association football match that Duncan Mackay hasn't attended since 1945, and that my friends, is a #BRAPAfact 

I'm not one of these anti-Spoons pub goers like I know some people are, but despite having read that Horse Shoe Inn, Crook (1733 / 2950) was indeed a Wetherspoons, it didn't look or feel like the usual model from either the outside or in - and I kind of really appreciated that.  The biggest clue was the heaving clamour at the bar, and if the mean streets of Crook had been deserted since we'd stepped off the bus, well, it felt as though the entire town was here!  The Double Maxim was as warming and health giving as you could hope for, strong though, which may or may not be connected to my classic 'hazy fifth pub of the day memories'.  Fair to say we both viewed the experience positively, though my notes make little sense, particularly the part where I've written "women does it look like the face of someone who could be ....." What does that even mean??  On the way back from a typically Everestian climb to the upstairs gents,   hungry Father BRAPA was fumin'.  "There's a girl there with a totally untouched bowl of chips.  She's just crying to her Dad.  She's never going to eat them!  Tempted to pinch one".  Well, on the way back from my pee, the sobbing girl had been picked up by her Dad and they were on their way out, table all but deserted, I pinched one and should've probably brought Dad the bowl for efficient staff were cleaning the table within seconds.  It wasn't a good quality chip in fairness, and I made myself sound worse on Twitter than I really was.  "Free styling chips from the heart of a crying child!"  someone commented with probable raised eyebrows.  Quote of the day.  And an enjoyable 'Spoons experience from what I remember.

We couldn't linger though, as our other Crook pub was for some unknown reason, a mile uphill away from town.  So we had 20 minutes to march up the hill, and 30 minutes in the pub before the last bus arrived to take us back to Durham.

We made it in about 15 mins which was a good effort .......

Ready for last pub of the day, and feeling confident

But, you can see the problem ......

Yes, perhaps naively of me, I'd thought 'Crook', 'out of town', name like Copper Mine (1734 / 2951) , it is gonna be fabulous rugged, probably verging on a WMC, or at least a WC!  But never assume anything in this game, this was a restaurant, but in a pub's body with a pub's atmosphere which made it all the worse.  At least 'Running Waters Three Horseshoes basically said "oi pubber, don't expect much of me", at least Metal Bridge's Old Mill said "yeah mate, we're a posh gastropub, deal with it!" and at least Sedgefield's Dun Cow said "we are fantastically upmarket, charge a fortune, but at least you can see we do it with style!"  And none of those three, or to my memory ANY pub I've visited in the GBG has had a sign telling you that you can't just go and sit down.  Okay, a couple of them have moved us after the event, which is sort of worse, but here Dad and I felt all we could do is perch at the bar and feel like second class citizens.  Only toilet anti L**ds Utd graffiti by a West Ham fan who'd made the Hammers kind of phallic brought a smile to my face, and two drinkers next to us also wore gloomy expressions.  Reading the GBG entry now, it talks about 'distinct drinking and dining areas' so I apologise if it has a drinkers bit we simply just 'missed'!  Oh well, you can't win 'em all, the other 5 experiences had all been good (or better).

Mr Protz commemorates his visit here

But at the bus stop, further disaster as the bus listed on Google Maps and the timetables online wasn't showing on the sign!  Nooooo.   Only thing for it, back into the 'pub' for a swift half and a taxi (and the beer was 'fine', but surely there must be limits as to what the GBG lists, even if it is a BEER and not a PUB guide?)  The staff weren't exactly bending over backwards to help, until the first number failed us, they saw the desperation in my eyes, and got me a card with a more reliable number on!  Good job they'd not seen my thoughts on their restaurant.  

Just when we (well Dad) were panicking and trying to get into the wrong car, the right one turned up, we breathed an all mighty sigh of relief, and were back at Durham station with time to spare!  Phew.

So a chaotic end to a day which had for the most part been brilliant, so it didn't spoil it!  And if I could rehydrate myself, get a good square meal, and an earlyish night, I thought a cheeky rare Sunday trip might be on the agenda......

Join me for tales of that one tomorrow.  Oh look, Hull City have lost at home to the bottom team.  League One beckons.  Bring on exciting new towns and pub ticks!

Si