BRAPA - From Cradley to Chips n Gravy : Easter Punk Briefs (1 of 2)

West Midlands Police on the fiddle (Plough & Harrow, Cradley Heath)

Gonna try and review these in a slightly different format, see if we can get through things quicker, like those more experienced pub bloggers do which frees them up for extra beer trips (Martin can sue if he wants).  Pretty sure I'll end up being too wordy and waffling on and on and on and on and on (oh look, it has started already).

'Twas Good Friday, and flanked by dynamic duo of Tom Irvin and Bernard Daddy Everitt, we were in West Brom for the football .... or so we thought.  In truth, we were in Cradley Heath for no football.  We didn't know that at the time. 

West Brom's three remaining ticks I required, Three Horseshoes, Royal Oak and even Crown & Cushion (which GBG basically reckons is very close to The Hawthorns but isn't) were just not convenient on what we, at 11am, thought was a 'football football' day.

It was a glorious warm sunny day (compare that with the sleety air of Chelmsford just a week ago), and outside the first pub, Dad continued his recent trend of trying to airbrush Tom's 'Allam Out' sign out of photos:

Welcome to my new tour of Good rusty bridges of the UK

But you can't keep a good man down and Tom can't be denied for long, even if it is from a safe distance:

Plough and Harrow (1583/2552) was a charming Cradley (pronounced Craydley) Heath GBG effort, a real reminder of why West Midlands pub ticking is so rewarding.  An old boy wheezed as he served me a Banks' Mild and then two dogs waddled out, closely followed by bloke's wife who had exactly the same walk as the canines!  One had a rubber ring round its neck, for rabies is rife anywhere within a 30 mile radius of Wolverhampton as I'm sure you know.

The fun was only just beginning as Twitter legend and friend El West Brom / Liquid Len swaggered in, very much the West Midlands Beyonce, all dark glasses and shaking his booty.  He headed straight to the bar, ordered a Banks' Mild, clicked his fingers at me to go up and pay, and wandered off for his morning 'toilet' and a quick ciggie.  #PubMan.  I could NOT get a photo with him in, he knows BRAPA tricks by now and stayed vigilant throughout, even quoting his image rights at one point probably.

It soon became apparent neither Dad, Tom nor myself could understand WHY we'd decided to go to today's game and got tickets, well we didn't have to, so after some soul searching in the astroturfed beer garden in the sun, we decided against it.  For a while, we said we'd stay here ALL DAY, but Tom was right (as usual), made sense to get out to a few other pubs.  But this was a nice starter pub. And it may've been here where the landlady told Tom he was 'flying low' as we left.  Great customer service.

We said 'Farewell Dearest El' (a live David Cassidy b-side from his rare punk single 'Didn't We All Have a Fucking Lovely Day in Scarborough?') and waved cheerio as he hopped on a bus.

Sadly, the Keith Cooper micropub hadn't opened .......

"Come on Keith, Bathams Mild or Bitter, local pork pies and open the hatch.  It ain't hard!"

So we went to a town I'd never been to before .....

Yes, we were in Droitwich (famous only for its local supermarket, the Spa) for pub two.  It seemed an amusing little town and a nice young lady smiled at me by an entrance to a subway which contained the following subliminal message about my love life she'd probably just dawbed on .....

All Hope is G......

The pub had a nice approach and soon we were in ......

Hop Pole (1584 / 2553) was said pub, and Pub Curmudgeon says didn't have such a great time here but for myself and Dad (and perhaps Tom, I didn't ask), this turned out to be our favourite of today's pubs.  Still, you should listen to Mudgie ahead of me, he KNOWS stuff.  Stuff about Cheshire that'd make your toes curl, probably.  But I think he'd had a bad experience trying to get food so this may've been why.  The landlord was a lovely hospitable chap, looking into the BRAP Cam whilst giving Thomas the correct change is a skill many have tried and failed.

The interior was beautiful, lovely calming dark wood so a bit of a shame we'd got a taste for astroturfed sunny bullshit as we went straight outside with our drinks to join the rabble.  This was made worse by a lot of knocking and banging, it seemed some guys were erecting a stage / side building / extension, though in truth it was probably the angry ghost of Cyrille Regis wondering why the Baggies weren't in an automatic promotion position.  No wonder Dad pretended he wasn't here.

It was more than Three Degrees out here, I tell ya, and with twilds and twaddies in three quarter length shorts and Fred Durst hats out in force, we were ready for a change of scenery.

Next stop was Kidderminster.  Exciting times.  Hull City used to play them in the league every season back in the early 2000's / late 90's so I think this was about my FIFTH time around the ale pubs here, but first visit since 2004.  Had the ale scene changed?  Well yes and no.  King & Castle was still in, as was iconic 2001 tick Station Inn which had been taken over and made less good by the time we returned a year later.   Also, the twice visited Railway Bell was still looking resplendent on the railway bridge but it was never GBG as far as I'm aware.  I've done others (Red Man?  Did it have a phone box?) but can't remember many details about them!

Anyway, Kiddie always makes me chuckle.  Never quite sure why .....

Too much sun n beer made me find this amusing at the time

And I don't know why I photographed this one.

But our two ticks in Kiddie today, firstly Beer Emporium & Cider House (1585) and then Weavers Real Ale House (1586) were almost certainly not around in 2004, having that whiff of Micronesia (Micropub Amnesia?) about them.  The Beer Emporium seemed to be, like Kiddie, more amusing than it was trying to be.  Tom had to scan a proper drinks menu in the predictable absence of blackcurrant cordial.

Joseph Holt's Bitter isn't an ale you expect to see in a Micro, even though I have before (on the Wirral to be not very precise) and gearing myself up for Manchester Punk Festival, it had to be done.  Enjoyable, amongst woke festival reminders, sexy shorts and theatrical Bass gesticulations, this was a decent place to have a good pint to cool you down on a hot day, not sure I'd find it comfy enough in the winter but guess I'll never know!  (Unless I do it again when Hull City come here in a couple of seasons time).

Weavers was a bit closer the station, and we were drunk enough now that Tom had got me to hold the 'Allam Out' sign and close my eyes, as a conflicted/disgusted Dad looked on .......

I liked Weavers more than the Beer Emporium, mainly cos it had a carpet so felt like a proper pub!  I didn't take any interior pub photos, and after the late train trauma of Gidea Park last week, Dad couldn't settle despite a gorgeous Cheese n Onion roll (ARE YOU WATCHING OLD TRANSPORTER IN HENLOW?) and some Tom chips, and he finished his drink quickly, announced "AREN'T MICROPUBS BOLLOX?" (I protested and he conceded this one was alright) and went to stand outside to try and entice me and Tom into an early drink finish which partly worked, though ordering a stout in this heat for my sixth pint was perhaps not my most sensible decision!  

I promised you gravy, but only cos it rhymed vaguely with Cradley (and Cradle to Grave is a phrase).  WOW! #PoetSi

Predictably, we were back in Birmingham Moor St with too much time to spare, so had a nice coffee in that most ornate of railway stations as didn't really have the heart for Kilder again, then we whizzed across to New St for a very long painstaking journey back to York.  Hull City had lost 3-2, and it barely even registered a flicker of the eyelid with us.  Sad times.  Allam Out!  

Si

BRAPA - Chelmsford 4-5-6* & Getting Giddier in Gidea (Pt 2)

So, to recap, we were halfway through our Chelmsford debut but only the Railway Tav had come up to scratch so far of the three we'd done on a cold Saturday morning in April.  But never fear, we were about to turn a corner .......

(* Thanks btw to M.Lawrenson for blog title idea by the way, Chelmsford 1-2-3 was a Sitcom I never got to see cos I'm YOUNG, honest.)

Visiting Woking FC fans were rampaging through the real ale boozers at a similar rate as us, and one had just stopped us to 'joke' his friends needed an Uber to get from the Queen's Head to the Orange Tree.   I didn't get it, but it really was just a few steps up the road .......

Me looking for the pub......

Found it! 

1579 / 2548.  Orange Tree, Chelmsford

Here we go! This was more like it, homely, warm, friendly greeting from colourful haired barmaid and cosy with good ale.  True, I get nervous when pubs push that pretty hackneyed 'every day is a beer festival' claim, meaning they serve tonnes of ales, but I was (I think) on t'Wibblers (of Southminster fame, yes I have had a poo in their Brewery Taproom back in '17) and it was great stuff.  You could tell it was a serious drinkers pub, cos four (three blokes and a younger - somewhere between 30-70 year old lady) who were  'rating' beers from recent days out.  Listening in, it sounded like only she took it seriously and they were just along for the ride!  Typical snapshot of conversation, though allow for slight poetic license:

SHE : 'Remember that rhubarb sour in the Kings Head, we really appreciated its dankness, astringent nature and element of lemongrass in the aftertaste'.

BLOKE 1: 'BURPPPPPP'

BLOKE 2 : 'Beeeeerrrrrrr'

BLOKE 3 : 'Yummmmm' 

SHE : Now, let's also recall that Coffee Porter in the Queen's Nose, with the salted caramel kick.  You were all fans of that one at the time.

BLOKE1 : 'I LUV BEER ME'
BLOKE 2 : 'BEER MAKES ME FEEL HAPPY'
BLOKE 3 : 'BEER MAKES ME NEED TO PEE'

Of course, our Woking friends had found another dartboard (possibly pool table too, can't remember!) and were at the back of the pub having an absolute whale of a time for a final time before messing up their promotion dreams so again I said an awkward hello to them cos they were blocking the toilet door, where at least I could appreciate the Pussycat Dolls and old beer signs (a winning combo) but yes, looking back, think this was probably my favourite pub today. 

The sun was finally out now as we made our way to pub number FIVE.  It was only 1:30pm, and we were not due off on the train back to York til 7pm.  Uh oh, this could get messy!

1580 / 2549.  Hop Beer Shop, Chelmsford

We chose to strategically end our 'Chelmsford ticking' for the day here, Essex's first micropub to be exact, so that when I come back to do the more difficult ones, Endeavour and Oddfellows spring to mind, I do at least also have the Ale House, which is right next to the station to take a bit of pressure off.  BRAPA logic isn't always easy to follow, but there you go!  Controversy from the start as the custodian of the ales (or whatever they call Micropub owners these days) had to relinquish his private supply of blackcurrant cordial for Tom.  As we know, Micropubs rarely have cordials, even if they do have cordial welcomes (sorry, that was shite) and you could see the poor guy was torn, but he was SUCH a top bloke with a real nice demeanour that he was always going to put the customer first, EVEN when that customer is Thomas G. Irvin.  I got mi Billericay something or other and we sat down we a nice sense of well being which only increased when a bloke goes "Simey? BRAPA?"  My cover sprung, this was the lovely Nigel Sommelier off of Twitter too and we sat with him and chatted all things pubby Chelmsford and stuff though as you know if you've read this blog before, fifth pub always a bit of a blurry experience for me!  Still, a nice place to end my first ever visit to Chelmsford, a town I got a good feeling about.  Oh, and a Woking fan made a late cameo of course.  But we still had one other pub elsewhere left in us .......

Mine host, getting the ales in

A 'waterfall of snacks' as we say in the trade

Tom has seen the blackcurrant, can you?

Making new friends in Chelmsford!

"Si, the pub is behind you!"  Me looking lost, five pints in wandering into the road.

Because Tom is a better BRAPA strategist than even me, he was aware I was getting close to completing East London, and if we changed at this place called Shenfield where nothing ever happens, we could get to Gidea Park, where my plans were foiled here last November.  

It'd be a nice monkey to get off my back, and would be a nice break in journey to stop this ridiculous rate of drinking!  

I think it was Nigel who told me Gidea Park were also a (not very good) band, so I googled them and saw they seemed to be some sort of short lived Beach Boys tribute band, but no one would do that would they?  WOULD they?  

Anyway, I was by now clarity personified as I marched us down that road I remember so well to the pub and almost a beery tear in my eye ...... IT WAS OPEN!   

Not sure Dad was clarity personified looking at his photography efforts as we stepped over the threshold ..........

1581 / 2550.  Gidea Park Micropub, Gidea Park

It is a Micropub,  It is in Gidea Park.  They call it the Gidea Park Micropub.  And let's commend them for that because in a day and age where every new cafe bar, brewhouse, kitchen and micro has to have an 'eye-catching' name like the Golden Spunkgobbler or Minge & Mayhem - a trend I unfairly blame on Antic, the lack of pretension here is clear for all to see in the understated quality way they go about things, from the top quality ale, to the warm atmosphere and excellent owner, Trevor.  Amazing a place with huge glass windows with sun beaming in can have a pub-like atmosphere, but 5 pints in, it did!   Back in November, I came here on a Tuesday lunchtime to find the place closed, after a recent change of opening hours.  I could've done more to check (there's this thing called Whatpub you see) but sure enough, when I put it on Twitter, Trevor saw it and promised a free pint when I finally made it.  But because I'm classier than most, I didn't go in ringing a bell saying "hear ye, hear ye, where's mi freebie?", we got served quietly, sat down and wondered who Trevor was.  The guy who served us looked friendly, but he looked too young to be a Trev.  Then the situation was confused further when a bloke said "BRAPA innit guv'nor?" and I said "TREVOR?" and he said 'no', he'd recognised me off Twitter but he pointed out Trevor.  Amazing!  Two consecutive 'being recognised' is a record and I had to come down to Essex and very East London to achieve it, funny am more popular down south.  I guess I'm like David Hasselhoff having to go to Germany to get a number 1 hit.  A top analogy I'm sure you'll agree.  But there was no time to jump in anyone's car, as nice Twitter man introduced me to Trevor and he remembered the incident AND the offer of a free drink.  I think Tom Irvin thought the offer extended to him, but it was like, 'not so fast buddy', so he reached for his moth eaten wallet and paid.  And I ended with an Oakham Citra, the beer I'd begun the day with in Ivory Peg, and you'd barely recognise them as the same drink, a lovely drop worthy of that great brewery.  Twitter bloke smiled and listened from the safety of a further away table (he's obviously read my blogs before), but we were joined by a jolly couple.  No idea what happened once the Citra kicked in, but it was all very pleasant I'm sure!

I thought Bishop Nick was the pilot from Andrewsfield but I may be getting confused!

Action shot of Dad wiping quality ale from his mush

Spidery lighting and a slightly sloping view of pub

We must've stayed in here longer than I realised!  Cos from about my second sip of Citra to within about 10 mins of being back at Kings Cross, I heard Dad saying to Tom "it's nearly 7pm, are we actually going to catch the train back to York" and then a mad dash where I hampered us by thinking I'd lost my ticket and Dad helping me out with his.  Oh dear!  

We did make the train, and after a nice coffee, I had my wits about me by Stevenage and was able to apologise to Dad and ask exactly what'd happened between about 4pm-6:45pm but no one really knew, I think time just slipped into a vortex on the outskirts of Essex.  

And that, was the end of a rather epic day out!  Could it get any more fun over Easter?  Join me tomorrow for 'Punk Rock Briefs from Cradley Heath and Manchester'.   It may be briefer than this (one can but hope), but it'll hopefully be entertaining.

Bye for now, Si

BRAPA - Chelmsford : A Pub Town (Part 1 of 2)

Try as I might, I just could not find a pun or a rhyme with 'Chelmsford' for my blog title, so apologies!  I thought about something like 'at the helm' or legendary football commentator John Helm but it didn't quite work out.

Anyway, with Hull City away to Middlesbrough, the OG squad of myself (Simey 'BRAPA' Everitt), Father BRAPA (Dad) and Tom 'Clag Monster' Irvin did what any sane trio would do and made our way to Chelmsford for a rare foray into Essex pub ticking.

Chelmsford was exciting, for it has NINE whole Good Beer Guide entries, meaning I could even be selective about which of the pubs we chose to visit. 

The air was bitterly cold for mid April as we exited the station after a surprisingly short train ride from Liverpool Street, and I loved Chelmsford immediately when it looked like the town (city?) logo was a dartboard at first glance even though it obviously wasn't:

It all reminded Dad of our trip to Limehouse as we skirted around a railway bridge to find what we believed was our first pub, the Railway Tavern, apparently a pub of tardis qualities. It had just gone 10am, the listed opening time everywhere, so we could get off to a cracking start, but this Tardis wasn't so much Dr Who as Dr When (Are You Opening?) as we walked around the back of the pub and found a man rolling beer barrels into a cellar.

"Wotchor Guv!" he probably didn't say in his finest Essex twang (I grew up in Saffron Walden so I know the lingo) as we tried to enter the premises.  "What toime is it?" he asked, and when we told him, he confessed it'd be nearer 11am when they'd actually open.  Gah, not a good start!

There was only one thing for it, a ten minute walk across town to the only other pub open at this time, the Wetherspoons!   And say what you want about the chain, you never see them NOT open when they are supposed to be .......

1577 / 2546.  Ivory Peg, Chelmsford

Two reasons I'd been reluctant to include the 'Spoons in our list of 5 Chelmsford pubs today.  Firstly, I'd been to SO many in North London last week, I was all Timmed Out, as we say in the trade.  And secondly, there seems to be a correlation between taking Dad to new 'Spoons on a Saturday morning and a disappointing experience.  I go to some quite nice ones, but rarely with him!  Though I suspect Saturday morning isn't the time to see them at their best if I'm honest.  Here, one of today's two key themes started - memorable barmaids.  This young lady was a funny one, having served me a pint of Oakham Citra, it came to Tom's standard 'blackcurrant cordial with tap water' and in a BRAPA first, she explains in some detail how she'll put the cordial in and he has to go to the water dispenser at the end of the bar and top it up himself.  Fair enough, I thought, but less than 30 seconds later, she asks again what he wants like she's hearing it for the first time! 'But ... but. .... you've just chatted at length about it!'   Goldfish memories aren't great when you work in a 'Spoons.  I should've probably gone for the JW Lees Brian Cox beer, my Citra had a weird fizzy twang.  The pub was quite gaudy, and I know a thing or two about bright colours, just ask my wardrobe!  When have purple and orange ever worked as a colour scheme outside of Double Decker chocolate bars?  Not here!  It was accentuated by a group of breakfasting American ladies who looked like they were on a fun run sponsored by Stabilo.  I hid my green highlighter for the time being.  Some West Ham fans tried to 'give it large' (this ain't Barking mate, and you are away to Man Utd if you hadn't realised), but it was time we left.

DIY cordial for Tom

Onwards and upwards, but back where we came from in truth.  Still not quite 11, so we were kind of banking on the Railway Tav being open by now.  The air was bitter, and it was actually trying to snow, in mid April in the South!  Extreme.  No wonder David Attenborough  keeps telling me to worry. 

Mercifully, the pub was open this time ......

1578 / 2547.  Railway Tavern, Chelmsford

The landlady person greeted us as joyously as you could hope for on entering the pub as a stranger, really impressive, couldn't stop laughing, and as Tom got his blackcurrant cordial and tap water, no ice, I felt it only right to tell her the 'Spoons forgetful barmaid story which she seemed to enjoy, though maybe you had to be there.  Though we sat in the front bar, it was when I went to the loo when I could finally appreciate the pubs true beauty(!)  It went a long way back (hence the Tardis thing) and was bedecked in a kind of vintage railway carriage theme in terms of seating and decor, a truly classic pub no matter where you are in the UK.  I've been told Essex will be a rewarding BRAPA county to do because "people here still use real pubs" (quote Martin Taylor, last week) and places like this make me wanna sack off Cumbria and Durham and do Essex first instead!  So enthralled I was, I went into the ladies loos by mistake and had a sit down wee in a cubicle before I realised my mistake. OOPS!     Before we could get too relaxed in our corner snug, a bunch of red and white shirted drinkers appeared.  After some research, we worked out they were Woking fans, away to Chelmsford today in an exciting top of the table clash.  It was like they'd nicked a copy of the BRAPA agenda I'd scrawled on a scrap of notepaper, for we'd see them in EVERY pub we went in after this!

Our longest walk of the day took us to pub three over some green parklands ......

1579 / 2548.  Queen's Head, Chelmsford

The weakest of today's six pubs by quite a long chalk, a shame cos location and set-up wise, it seemed like it was going to provide something positive.  I confidently predict it'll be a long time before this pub sees the light of day in the GBG after this current year.  It had the 'holy trinity' of crap pubness.  A surly barmaid (Dad reckoned she smiled for a millisecond on arrival, I didn't even witness that!), she was miserable to the point I felt a bit uncomfortable as we waited for the drinks to be served.  It was freezing cold - I know it is hard to heat some of the bigger older pubs but no effort was made here.  Oh, and thirdly, the beer was rank.  Crouch Vale, I've sampled plenty of their ales before without incident, but by the end, this'd only be fit to go on your fish n chips!  Welcome distractions were a nice Robinsons brewery mirror in the Gents (they get everywhere!), Essex County Cricket memorabilia, and our friendly Woking fans who came in, played darts for it, but left quite sharpish.  One hung back to ask what our game was, he didn't seem to fathom we didn't want to be up in Middlesbrough watching Hull City, and joked his mates were so rubbish at finding their way around Chelmsford, they'd need an Uber to get to the Orange Tree from here.  It made no sense at the time, but it would do!  We told him no doubt we'd see him shortly .....

Quite liked the top of bar bit

Putting the 'yak' in Yakima

Dad looking suitably glum

This was mirror, kind of!

Woking legends  

Spot your Essex C.C.C faves! 

But fear not, join me tomorrow night for Part 2 where our next 3 pubs will be a marked improvement. 

Si