BRAPA is ..... PITCHER PERFECT (Kenty was Plenty Part 10/11)

Sadly, this isn't a tale about the day I finally turned my back on boring real ale, ordered a pitcher of 'Woo Woo' and 'Sex on the Beach', and went 'oi oi, chug chug chug'.  I'm sure that day will come.  Five zillion new Central London ticks to do after all.

'Twas my final day in Kent (sad face), a six day holiday just isn't enough in a pub county like this. 

Selling your house, not shaving for a year, living in a cave or a tent on a diet of berries and small woodland mammals is the best way to crack Kent in an expedient manner.

This was pub two, and this is today's BRAPA and chauffeur, Faversham's favourite son, Richard Pitcher:

Sun, Bredgar (2410 / 3974) was quite shit, in nearly every way.  I could leave it there, but I best expand.  It was soulless but fairly busy, mainly due to a large group of elderly gents in lycra ignorantly blocking floor space and causing trip hazards with giant rucksacks, or with their faces in the nosebag.  The younger barmaid was a misery guts, making no effort on the facial muscle front, serving us from a misery guts range of Courage Directors or Shep Neame Master Brew.  I opted for the latter despite two recent bad experiences with it, and the one chink of light in this sorry tale is that the M.B. was excellent qual. - more like the beer that Kent folk keep telling me it should be.   The older barmaid almost returns Richard's smile.  But it comes so unnaturally, her face contorts into a twitchy sour grimace.  At least the village duck pond was nice.  I bet her ancestors got dunked in here 300 years ago.  I'd hardly been enthused by the Three Tuns at Lower Halstow despite its CAMRA award winning status, but compared with this, it was the Red Lion at Snargate.  And I've not even been to that one yet! 

Still in the GBG?  No.  Ha!  But I can't really crow about it cos any churn is unhelpful.

It wouldn't be the most 'end of the line vaguely nautical' pub of the day, but there was something quite 'end of line vaguely nautical' about our third pub today .......

Ship, Conyer (2411 / 3975) marked an upturn in fortunes today, although anything following the Sun in Bredgar would ..... unless perhaps you are a manic depressive who has the Bay Horse in Market Weighton as their local, or live in Maidstone and your limited mobility means you can only get as far as the Stag.  "All pubs called the Ship should be in the GBG" Daddy BRAPA exclaimed Saturday just gone, and on this evidence I'd agree.  Okay, so it was a bit bare boarded and sparse, but it had enough nautical nods to make it notable.  It was empty when we arrived, unsurprising given the location? But it had a genuine warmth as the barmaid reminded us that it is possible to be a rural North Kenter, jolly and wear an exciting t-shirt.  Canterbury Ales are fine,  not my favourites, but as they tend to be named after Chaucer's tales I like the challenge of 'collecting' them.  '3 Hop Pale' here, not one of better known works.  In the process, I'm told off for pronouncing 'Bath' in a northern way.  'Baaarth?'  Ugh!   The ale slips down well, the taps in the loos were a bit too powerful, a random pile of logs threaten to do something, and the 'tables' look a bit like crypts.  If Dracula wakes up, my pint spills everywhere.  Some customers finally arrived, most notably a lady at the bar brandishing a menu.  She orders custard, ice cream and steak.  In that order.

Still in the GBG?  It is, and I think it just about deserves it!

But if that was a vaguely nautical end of line step in the right direction, well, in the words of Bachman Turner Overdrive (who I only know about thanks to Smashie and Nicey), I ain't seen nothin' yet! 

Our final pub of Part 10 is listed under Faversham, but in reality, it is as remote as any Kentish pub, in a made up place called Hollowshore.  The roads soon become potholed dirt tracks leading nowhere, imagine a sort of 'Tandle-by-the-Sea'.  You can look out to Sheppey from a reassuringly safe distance.  It is magical.  It is bleak.  It is a throwback to a time I never experienced.  It is impossible to fully do it justice without visting.  

It closes mid afternoon, hence our haste to get this one 'out of the way'. The pub is like some weatherboarded hut, it is a bit like Round the Twist without being set in a lighthouse. 

Welcome to Shipwrights Arms, Faversham (2412 / 3976).  The enchanting, spellbinding atmosphere continues into the bowels of this dimly lit, rickety wooden old jewel, full of seafaring bygone bric-a-brac.  You can smell and hear the crackling woodburner, this pub needs it, the draught is permanent.  A winter night in here must be special.  Model ships dominate, but as I go to find the loo (rare sliding door not marked with 'gents' or 'ladies') a model pirate makes me jump, lurking behind some fishing nets.  Suddenly the Ship at Conyer efforts look a bit token.  The ales come directly from the barrel, I panic and go for a 4.8% Kent Prohibition.  Gorgeous as it is, I wish I'd gone Goachers Mild, it may've helped me last the pace a bit longer later on!  In an interesting juxtaposition to all that was encircling us, an American businessman stomped around, followed gingerly by the current owner, in what appeared to be a (not very) hostile takeover bid, uttering 'gee, ain't it swell?' every two minutes (probably).   When American flags and bald eagles are jutting from every pub orifice in a few months time, you know where you heard it first.  Visit while you can would be my advice, a beauty!  

Still in GBG?  You betcha! 

Join me on Wednesday for our final Kentish review.  I'd never have believed I'd enjoy a pub more than this one today .... but somehow, I would!  But which one?  Tune in to find out.

Thanks for reading / skimming / looking at the pictures cos you are a simpleton,

Si 

  

BRAPA in ..... LINTON, TRAVEL & TAVERNS (Kenty was Plenty Part 9/11)

Linton Corner is a handy pub stop on the fruitful Number 5 bus route south of Maidstone down to Sandhurst, and what a drag it was at rush hour on my penultimate day of mid and north Kent ticking.

And at Linton Corner itself, it was like Piccadilly Circus.  Schoolkids, dirty old men and posh Mumsie ladies with buggies are all taking their chances crossing the road onto the B2163.  I cross alongside a chubby schoolboy, using him as a shield to cushion me against any oncoming traffic.

My next tick may well be listed under 'Linton' but in truth it is closer to Boughton Monchelsea , which was fine cos I had a tick to do there as well.

Off down an obscure country lane, the pub, or should I say, brewery tap came into view.  Of course, they deliberately scared me to death because the first word I see is 'CLOSED'.  I mean, you can understand my brief moment of panic can't you? 

The man at 'Kashmir Kitchen' gives me an lazy expectant nod, a bit like a lion trying to scratch his neck on a cactus, and I enter the bright but lacking in atmosphere Armoury, Linton (2407 / 3971) home of Musket brewery (who love saying stuff like 'must get a Musket').  I'd enjoyed a dark beer by them in Maidstone's Flower Pot the previous day.  Hops hang everywhere, the seating is high and flimsy, the ale comes from the barrel, and the staff smile in a way which is both warm but nervous.  I go for a standard bitter today, and safe to say I'm not really loving it.  The place isn't deserted by any means, but despite the grey chilly air, most people have chosen to sit outside, which in retrospect, I think may've been more enjoyable.  One man comes inside to ask if they do dog biscuits, of course they do, but I never saw any signs of a dog on my way in or out.  Maybe he was just peckish?  Although a trio of staff inject a bit of life into proceedings by chuckling over a word puzzle towards the end of my 27 minute stay, it hasn't been the most memorable experience.

Still in the GBG? - Yes, local breweries in awkward locations are well supported by CAMRA, even if they brew swill from a shed out back (not that I'm saying Musket do, but some definitely do!)

Back up on the main road, I continue my walk away from Linton Corner towards Boughton Monchelsea.  Of course, the pub had to be situated at the very far end of the sprawling village but despite my desperate need for a wee, I kept the camera fairly steady. 

Cock Inn, Boughton Monchelsea (2408 / 3972) was one for the pub lovers, even a Kentish one who is sick of Shepherd Neame (which seems to be the case with 90% of Kent folk I speak to).  It had a low beamed ceiling, a plentiful carpet, a fruit machine, horse brasses, pillars, loos signposted 'Cockerals' (sic) and 'Hens'.  Everyone was jaunty and old school, which matched the surroundings.  A new Shep Neame called Summer Storm IPA promised much, but delivered little.  As as the jolliest chap had a heartfelt chat with the guv'nor about Sciatica, before downing his pint in five minutes and hobbling off at quite a pace, I hit a wall - not literally, though it was dark enough.  A better ticker than me would've got himself back to Linton Corner, back on the number 5, and hopped off at 'Cross-At-Hand' and walked up to the Lord Raglan, but knowing I had a tough seven tick day with a BRAPA debutant, I erred on the side of caution, went outside, rang for a taxi back to Maidstone, and opted for a quiet night back in my Shittingbourne lodgings. 

Still in the GBG? - No!  Bit sad about that, but the ale never got above average and the local CAMS probably don't need much excuse to ditch an SN pub.  

Fast forward 16 hours and I meet our new hero, Richard Pitcher, at Rainham station.  He had volunteered to drive me around a few pubs before he gets himself to Derbyshire mid afternoon.  So I'm glad we had a rare but remote 11 o'clocker to get us off to the best start possible - Richard had rung ahead to check hours because he is more sensible than me. 

Recent CAMRA award winner, Three Tuns, Lower Halstow (2409 / 3973) has been refurbished in a dining sorta way, but the pub is warm, the barmaid is welcoming, and a pint of mild is exactly what you to start a long 7 or 8 pint day - ESB not included because I've drunk so many, I'm immune to its alcohol content by now.  Being called 'Lilac Time' I thought it might have a pinkish tinge, but it was boringly black.  A random pile of logs did nothing, a dartboard looked more like a nod to the past rather than something that'd get much usage amidst the old couples with their faces in troughs of cockles, mussels and alive, alive oh's.  The carpet helped, it was weirdly undulating and lumpy, like they might've buried the pub sausage dog underneath by mistake. Richard highlights the battered GBG like a season pro, the mild slips down superbly, and it is time for pub two, which I'll tell you about tomorrow. 

Still in GBG?  Yes, and that's what I like about hearing you're off to a CAMRA pub of the year, 99.9% nailed on inclusion next year/this year.

Join me same time tomorrow, for the penultimate part of Kenty is Plenty, then we'll get stuck into Gwenty is Plenty, which I might finish by Christmas!  

Si 

BRAPA in ..... NEVER MIND THE JORROCKS : Kenty was Plenty Part 8/11

Wednesday was to be my penultimate day's ticking of this Kentish holiday.  It was unfortunate to cut it short, but I was required in Ilkley on Saturday for the wedding evening do of a Bradford City fan whom I used to work with, and I wanted to be on top form.

On my final Kent day, a lovely man called Richard had offered to drive me around 'outer Faversham' so today was my last chance to spread my wings and do some crazy mid-Kent nonsense.

There were a few amendments to the breakfast menu, a weird purple juice had appeared, pomegranate had replaced blueberries, and a Muller light yoghurt came from nowhere.  Why not have a fry up? Makes me tired and bloated before I've even started.

After the well-trodden path to Maidstone, I changed trains for a funny sounding place called Headcorn, but it fitted the local tradition of being a pretty but slightly twee town ruined by much through-traffic. 

From Headcorn, I walk to pub one.  A good two mile yomp, one scary bit of roadwalking at the beginning only lasting a few minutes, before it opens into a wide and relatively trouble free, picturesque country lane, although the cars I did see were absolute speed demons.

It was 12:01 when I arrived, so my heart started fluttering when I saw the pub was shut.  I start exploring side entrances, and just when I'm starting to panic, 12:04pm, the pub door creaks open and I try not to look too desperate or too relieved.  I wish pubs wouldn't scare me!  I mean I COULD ring ahead but where's the fun in that?

Bell & Jorrocks, Frittenden (2405 / 3969 - read it and weep Si!) was one of the strongest Kent pubs I visited this week. Harvey's Sussex Best has, over the years, either been very satisfactory, or left me rushing for the dunny, so always an exciting one to order.  Luckily, there were no lowly stirrings today, which was almost a shame because the gents contained one of the prettiest loo seats I've seen in BRAPA history.  The landlady sounds Scottish close up, Irish when she's stood further back.  Acoustics.  We get chatting.  She is not only super friendly, but incredibly useful.  She recommends me a Headcorn pre-emptive.  She gives me a more picturesque route back, which cuts out that scary bit of road walk.  And most significantly, she reveals that the other Frittenden GBG entry (actually on the main A229 bus route), The Knoxbridge, where I just avoided getting off a bus on seeing it closed yesterday, is shut long term as they cannot find anyone to run it.  This though, is a lovely village pub of some history, but it is great people like her who really make a place special. 

Still in the GBG?  Of course.  I'd be fuming if not (Knoxbridge isn't, so well done local CAMRA).

The directions she gave me were bob on, I even recognised the description of a couple of sheep .....

I entered Headcorn from behind the churchyard, nodding at a couple of locals as I emerge onto the High Street as if to say 'yes, I know my way around Headcorn lads, what of it?' and find the unassuming little micropub she'd recommended across the road.

Tap 17, Headcorn seemed to me like just the kind of place to make a future GBG, well that was until I ask about the cask and I'm told they don't currently have any on.  What a shame.  For once, I wanted to be the WhatsApp group pub ticker who had a new recommendations to wow my more experienced colleagues!  No matter, the two ladies who greet me are fantastic.  "Do I detect a Yorkshire accent?" asks the main one.  I confirm it might be the case.  "I know these things, I'm from Lincolnshire" she replies, a sentence I don't think I've ever heard uttered before.  I take some crazy keg offering to the cute little astroturfed garden, with a long mirror so I can admire my drinking technique.  I'm drinking well.  I eventually return indoors for a half of something else, due to badly timed trains, and we have a lovely chat.  Her passion for Boston and the South Lincs Fens is admirable, and I tell her I'll have to stop viewing it has a drab, flat wilderness full of boring pubs and pay it a bit of attention in 2023.

In 2023 GBG?  No, but no surprise, considering the lack of cask today , or EVER according to Whatpub!  Nice Bacon fries though.

With Laddingford and Staplehust both closing mid afternoon (the latter, I was warned, may be limited even further due to a poorly landlord), and Marden not opening til 6pm (all of which would make the 2023 GBG by the way) I found myself back in Maidstone for my final tick.

I'd heard a bit about it, none of it good, but a recent pale green and cream lick of paint suggested that they are trying to make the place appeal to a wider crowd, and not the chavvy hell hole which any sane person would avoid on a Fri or Sat evening (so I'd been told!)  I could barely wait.

I can only presume that the reason for the inclusion of the Stag, Maidstone (2406 / 3970) in the '22 GBG was their one cask ale is a rare one called Reliant Robin by Rockin' Robin, who run the pub.  I'm the only customer despite being the GBG pub most central to town, and dance music blares out boom boom boom as the most bored ever looking barmaid, all huge eyelashes, collagen implants and stick on finger nails taps away on her phone.  Her mood brightens briefly when two men, who I think are her Dad and boyfriend although I couldn't tell which was which and neither could she, come in for a lager and take the micky out of her.  Even they though, end up supping their pints around the corner.  At least I've found a nice red leather armchair, and I'm surprised and pleased to find that the ale is lovely full malty thing.  In some ways, the pub reminds me of that peculiar one in Thatcham that got in.  Getting up to leave wasn't a wrench , more a relief.

Still in GBG? Don't be silly (although Thatcham still is, and you could argue purely on beer quality today, why not?)

Fully greening Maidstone for the first time was the most satisfying moment, but I'll need to come back in the 22/23 season.  Time to hop back aboard the number 5 bus and try and get a couple of outliers done before an early night.  

I'll tell you about them and the start of my final day, on Sunday now (busy week due to pubs and bonfires, the two nicest things) in Part 9.

See you then, Si 

  

BRAPA MONTH END REVIEW : OCTOBER 2022

Good evening, happy Hallowe'en, Samhain and all that jazz.  

I might still be reeling from that dodgy GBG churn that we don't like to talk about (the new 'dodgy knee'), but I can report a record 66 new ticks for the month, eclipsing the previous record of 61 set in November 2021.  Plus 7 pre-emptives.  3 of which are now in the current GBG.  Ooof, anyone got a spare lizard?

Remember when Rishi got made PM, and reporters shouted  "cheer up pal" and his face remained stoic?  I feel much the same.  Far too much work to do to replenish my numbers and get back up past the 50% mark to indulge in any facial muscle twitching.

At the time of writing, I've clawed it back to 2164 (48.09% completion).  

Important to remember why I do BRAPA.  Best hobby in the world.  Love pubs, love visiting different parts of the country, love not knowing what you are going to encounter when you push/pull open that pub door. And if I must insist on a pint / 27.5 mins a pub in the hope of an 'experience' every single time which you then write about, well I'm not going to make crazy progress am I?  You can't have it all in this game.  If I live another 25 years, then I think the dream is still alive!

But with the dawn of a new ticking year comes plentiful Yorkshire options, stuff in Central London not far from Kings Cross and folk taking pity on me offering my lifts between pubs.  Gotta focus on the positives!

So how on earth do you pick a top 5 from 66 to go through into the New Year's Eve BRAPA pub of the year ceremony.  I'll give it a go (though to be honest, the standard wasn't fabulous throughout the month, Gwent being the exception). 

1. Y Cantreff Inn, Abergavenny

2. Wheatsheaf, Llanhennock

3. Royal Oak, Pencelli

4. Questors Grapevine Bar, Ealing

5. Anchor, Sevenoaks

Plenty of honourable mentions too.  Especially the Greedy Pig in Eccleshill near Bradford, who had closed not long after 8pm on Wednesday due to no customers, but agreed to let me in for a pint when I begged at the window! 

George IV in Sawbridgeworth, McGlynn's at St Pancras, Goose & Cuckoo at Upper Llanover, Kentish Belle Bexleyheath, Kirkstall Brewery Tap, Owl & Pussycat West Ealing, Boat Inn Penallt, Foxhunter at Nant-y-Derry , Beaufort in Raglan, Bridge Inn Llanfoist and Queen's Head Cmwyoy all were a cut above as well.

Foxhunter Inn, Nant-y-Derry

Dishonourable mention for the Westbury at Wood Green/Turnpike Lane, for being one of the most abominable pubs I've visited all year, but it is still in the 2023 GBG so there is that!  Goose & Cuckoo isn't.  Just as a means of demonstrating it really is a 'Guide' and not an absolute definitive best 4500 ale outlets in the land.

Mascot Watch - Colin is having his quarterly wash, but whilst he smells lovely, he'll never be whiter than white again.  But we won't ditch him, don't worry!  Oscar the Owl has been doing some heavy lifting of late, shame he's Snowy and not Tawny but never mind.  And Naughty Little Cousin Pumpy has been enjoying his favourite time of year.  Alex the Apple is on the transfer list, Pedro the Plum is lacking match fitness, too much porter.  Brekkie the Sheep is recovering from a twisted trotter.

Oscar on his way to Oakworth

November Plan - Lancashire and South Yorkshire are my Thursday focus areas.  I'm tantalisingly close to West Yorkshire completion (one pub, we only want one pub) but we have to wait for a chap to become available who wants to meet me there. Train strikes are blighting me yet again (5th, 7th and 9th so far, I suspect 19th will be too looking at trains) , but Daddy BRAPA is on hand to be a be a chauffeuring hero.  I'll be hoping for more Kentish and London progress, and the month ends with my final holiday of the year, in a county where I only have 4 ticks, so that'll be exciting!

Could Daddy B hold the key to November glory?

Have a nice November, and keep visiting the pubs (if you want, I mean I can't force you).

Si