BRAPA - Mansfield Peers (Part 1 of 2)

I was down in Mansfield on Saturday with my 'York mates' (as I've never referred to them before, just sounds like a cheap brand of condom really).  We try and visit the York pubs every Thursday, but once a year, if they are well behaved, I let them out of York so they can see how BRAPA operates.....

Let's introduce them and get the formalities done.  We have Chris 'Krzb' Britain (a Sheff Utd fan, chief planner, he booked our trains today), we have John 'JW2' Watson (a Sunderland fan ready for Wembley, he has a wife and well behaved boy) and we have Lee 'Jig' Johnstone (a Man Utd fan who is coming to L**ds Slamdunk Festival with me next Saturday, meaning I have to be 'imaginative' re next weekends BRAPA plans). 

It wasn't a Mansfield debut for me, but my last pub tick, the Bold Forester, was done wayyyyy back on 6th March 2004, over 15 years ago.  It is STILL in the GBG.  The landlord loved me and Dad cos we drank real ale and he said everyone else in the town was a lager drinker.  There was about 11 ales on, they were all standards.  I moaned how I'd had them all before!  Nowadays, I'd be relieved they weren't brewed by the armpit of some craft kitchener brewshed's arsehole.  How times change.

On 12th September 2000, I came here to an unknown pub and confused a barman by putting an empty packet of my own Tesco Extra Value Ready Salted in a smouldering ashtray.  And on 15th April 2000, a Hull City coach from Goole pulled up outside the pub we were in (JW2 was with us that day too) so Dad panicked, got up, and bought us about 3 rounds in one go in case we couldn't get near the bar again.  Legendary. 

As usual, it was pissing with rain as we changed at Retford and Worksop to get here, cheaper and better that way.  Pub one was very close to the station, hence the name ......

Jaunty angled photos are a signature of Krzb's photography

Railway Inn (1619 / 2588) ended up being our overall favourite pub of the day when we 'voted' on the way home, and it was the right decision.  A homely tight-knit pub was presided over by a super friendly landlady who tried to distract us from the serious amount of carrot chopping going on with her accommodating attitude, though not much gets past BRAPA so I wondered if the pub perhaps had a rabbit plague they'd learned to embrace, the most logical solution.  Good job Bishop Len Brennan wasn't here.  Despite the lack of Bass, all our ales (we each got a different one of the 4 on) came in Bass glasses, always a move likely to upset beer twitter.  Even a Gin Bar and a Nottingham Forest fan couldn't dampen the true pub spirit in here, and with some top decor too including a cross-stitch steam engine and old pub prints from around the UK, you had to say 'yes, this was the Mansfield I'd been hoping for in my mind's eye' prior to our arrival. 

Sure beats those faux 'inspirational' boring pub quotes they normally have in pubs!

The rabbits are waiting

Ray of Sunshine, but not outside

JW2 does the ticking.  Is that Bass Black?

I expected Brown Cow (1620 / 2589) to be even more proper Notts backstreet boozery than the Railway, resting just off centre on the edge of town over a busy dual carriageway. 

But despite the lantern outside (probably harking back to some pre-refurb when it was presumably better), this place a bit of a disappointment, the comedy cow making way to a modern interior.  With no staff in sight, I finally was encouraged to do as the sign said and 'ring for service' but right at that second, the bloke appeared who seemed a little bit short and snappy with us I felt.  Just like the Sun in Waterbeach or the Red Lion in Earby, what's the point having a sign encouraging ringing of a bell and then acting like the customer is being impatient?  We sat on some comfy but weird three quarter high stools, old blokes seemed to be drinking from behind a cage - very sexy - and luckily, Jig saved the day with one of his never-ending anecdotes which even BRAPA cannot reveal details of.  But the good news is (a) it was a classic and (b) it totally distracted me from the dross of this place.  'Moosletter' indeed!  My ale, something from an unknown local micro, was perfectly kept but an utterly vile drop.  Ironically, there was a 'home brewer centre' next door.  And next door to that, 'Big Baps' sandwich shop. Oh, and Johnstone's Paints opposite.   JW2 had suggested on the way we might get a pint of Mansfield Riding Bitter like the old days,  and more's the pity we didn't! 

Not a great pint but not blaming the pub

They even had an Untappd screen a la Bier Cab in Barcelona.  How continental!

Sexy men in a cage ready for a dance

I've just got it (fruit flies as in the insect) (and it still ain't that funny!) 

Mansfield looked a prettier place than I remembered as we passed under a viaduct/railway bridge thing by the sign of the old White Hart in search of pub three .......

Widow Frost (1621 / 2590) was the Wetherspoons, you can't really come to a town like Mansfield and not get the 'Spoons in.  Shall we go in and see what it was like?  Yes?  Okay .......

Well, it smelt like a 'Spoons.  It sounded like a 'Spoons.  And the people filling almost every table in the place looked suitably downcast.  Though let us be fair, it has be a particularly tough week for Wetherspoons clientele with the cancellation of Jeremy Kyle.  At the bar, FOUR Mudgie vouchers were exchanged for ale, giving us £2 off to help us pay for dinner.  Amusingly, there was an ale called 'Black Hole' next to one called 'Big Willie'.  "Yeh, someone's not really thought that one through have they?" admitted the barmaid as we smirked.  In the end, I got a Plum Mild.  Even that sounded wrong in the circs.  We sat down as tables started to clear when they realised BRAPA was about to judge them, and it was time for a first for me, as Krzb fired up the 'Spoons App and ordered our food off that.  How could this possibly work?  I had my doubts.  But we'd hardly had time to blink by the time a mechanical waitress probably called Chloe V2.0 (Tim Martin builds them in his shed) arrived with food.  My chicken strips and chipotle something went down a treat, and it wor off to pub number 4.  Great progress being made. 

Jealous of Krzb's sausage, beans and chips

Join me in part two, it was time to leave Mansfield and go to a brave new land ........

Si

BRAPA - ..... and the Oscar for Dullest Micropub goes to .......

Thursday evening after work, and I was meeting West Sussex Twitter legend, a man with an anecdote for every aspect of life, and general Protz-botherer, John DepecheModem. 

After a few lame ducks last time he was in town (my fault), I wanted to redeem myself and prove the L**ds pub scene had proper old greatness, so we started at the Templar, one of the more underrated jewels in my eyes. 

I was greeted by the ultra-friendly smiling landlady, and I just had to go for a pint Tetley's as I saw that sexy huntsman ogling me through his monocle .......

"Come drink me Si"

Sadly, it had just gone off but good news, she sent a stodgy man (hubbie?) down to the cellar to change the barrel.  Ok, so I had to stand there for about 10 minutes but it was worth it.  One of the best pints of Tetley's I've ever had.  Now here's an unpopular opinion you'll probably disagree with.  Tetley's is actually a better drink since it moved to Wolverhampton.  There, I've said it.

Anyway, apart from the usual slightly edgy over 50's crowd, this is a cracker of a pub.....

I found John in the back room I've never sat in before, doing what all good southerners should do here and try and blend seamlessly into the background.  Still, I couldn't really allow this to happen and John doesn't do blending in really!  The question all regular readers of my 'Adventures with John' subsection of my Blog will want to know is how is his gammy leg getting on.  Superbly as it turned out, he could almost be on a Veet advert nowadays.  Great progress since Darlington in November.

We had a nice catch up, and in a City still licking its wounds from its (some may say hilarious) midweek defeat at home to Derby, John had brought the now near-legendary Henry Winter article, which can now be enjoyed all over again in a new context ......

Time to try and 'wow' John with another lovely old L**ds pub.  This was an old favourite of mine, Duck & Drake.

I take all first time visitors here.  In fact when the Southworth bros came over from American to say hi, this is where I met them, mainly so I could do a Blog called 'Dick & Dave at the Duck & Drake' but then I never did cos I forgot to take photos. 

Despite the staff having downturned mouths like that Grumpy Old Pussy that died in the week (no, not Doris Day), the front 'live music' room had a soothing evening hubbub with the sun shining in to the spartan arena. 

Pub could perhaps do with someone wiping a cloth across the odd surface or two, and the toilets smelt like they hadn't been cleaned since the rare urinals from Burnley were installed:

John, when he went outside for a smoke, noticed a scene that wouldn't look out of place in 'Britain's Crap Towns Guide' in a wonderfully arty kind of way, the location of this pub is in one of L**ds grimmer areas ......

I said farewell to John, but I had 'official' BRAPA business to undertake too this evening.

Yes, my final West Yorkshire pub tick was in sight, just outside L**ds in a little town/big suburb called Morley.  An easy one to do, I was holding off for a work colleague who wanted to join me cos he used to live in Morley, but alas, even at the death, he couldn't quite make it ......

A long straight walk from Morley railway station (first time I'd been here) took me to a small orange building across the road ......

I didn't actually notice the mysterious figure (Oscar?  Eric Morecambe?) in the upstairs window until someone pointed it out.  But that was as characterful as Oscars Bar, Morley (1618 / 2587) got in what was a particularly drab experience, even by micropub standards.  I greeted the barmaid a bit more enthusiastically than I might've, for a split second, thinking it was Emily from work moonlighting in a new roll, as she too had blonde hair and a camouflage jacket to match the BRAPA home kit for the 2018/19.  I sat at a cold metal table and drank my perfectly okay pint of some mango infused porter or some bollocks, the other 5 customers making no eye contact throughout despite my best efforts.  It was so bloody boring, and I think due to my Templar and Duck & Drake visits earlier, my tolerance level was lower than usual.

Fake Emily hides behind pumps

Nothing to report

Had to resort to moody selfie as no photos worth taking

I'm not anti-Micro per se, like most pubs, I find they can be quite varied.  There's a benchmark in my mind of good micropubs, something like Chiverton Tap in Cheadle Hume or Grocers in Cadishead, the latter being particularly remarkable as to all intents and purposes, it was very very basic but the 'human touch' made for a wonderful experience.  No, this was more on a par with experiences like Dr Phil's in Middlesbrough, Last Heretic in Burton and Hop & Barley, Lincoln.

Anywho, West Yorks done for another year!  No BRAPA next Saturday but am looking at a cheeky northerly Bank Holiday Monday/Sunday substitute, and may be able to squeeze something out of Derbyshire before the weekend.  

Join me tomorrow/Tuesday for tales of Mansfield and beyond.

Si

BRAPA - Over t'hills to New Mills / The Sweet Taste of Marple Syrup

Jaded, shattered, broken, exhausted, emotional, defeated both physically and mentally.

No, I'm not talking about a L**ds United fan leaving Elland Road tonight, I'm talking about myself by 4pm last Saturday after a torrid first half of my BRAPA trekking from Castelton to Buxworth via Hollins Cross and Edale, very much accidentally. 

New Mills Central was one stop further down the line, where my third and final Derbyshire tick of the day was.  It had a curious Micro outlook as I approached from across the street......

The Beer Shed (1614 / 2583) was as narrow and squashy as it appears from the outside, and I found myself involuntarily breathing in the entire time I was upstairs.  I told the barman I'd got here just in the nick of time, as he'd rolled his eyes to me at the sight of a large group of cooing women with double buggies arrived and shoehorned their selfish way into the pub.  Sadly, my Vanilla Porter, as nice as it tasted, smelt of baby sick throughout, and I think I've had this problem with Kelham Island beers before!  I perched on the smallest side table ever, only just room for my pint and phone, GBG perched precariously, green highlighter having to remain in top pocket.  Yes folks, THAT is what we were up against.  I was squashed by three blokes and a lady, but she started getting tearful and going off to the loo.  I felt bad for her and deleted all trace of her from my photos and nearly pulled the plug on this entire blog, a la 'Have I Got News For You' last week!  When she left in silence, smiling at me and returning a chair to my table (I wanted to give her a hug), two of the blokes told the other he was 'in the doghouse' and he replied 'wimmin eh?  Ya never know what they're bluddy thinking!' but it was clear to she was thinking 'he's a nobhead' the entire time, it didn't need a polygraph on Jeremy Kyle, whoever the fuck he is  Woke bloggers like me refer to this as 'toxic masculinity' and 'everyday micropub sexism'  #WokeSi2019   An even shadier chap appeared, encouraging people to nick cans of craft from the fridge.  "Everyone does it!" he claimed.  A bit of a commotion followed as someone with a fashionable beard had been on cask Thornbridge Jaipur all afternoon and was now struggling. "IT ... IT IS LIKE IT HAS GOT DRUGS IN IT, THIS STUFF!" he wailed.  Wish I'd spotted it earlier, but there was a hidden downstairs room, smelling all old and fusty, cool and damp and quiet.  I sat down here for the last 10 mins all alone, it was a relief I can tell ya. 

It's important you learn lessons as the day progresses, so I didn't try and do anything too elaborate regarding the other fairly nearby Derbys micro at Chapel-en-le-Frith.  That's for another day.

Yet, a voice in my head (possibly Mark Daniels from last week) was telling me with regards to the long standing 'tick' in Mellor, Greater Manchester, it was sort of now or never!

Yes, buses had finished running to Mellor for the day, and it was just as close to New Mills as it was to Marple so despite my poor sore legs, I started climbing yet again for another 2 plus mile walk.  It wouldn't have been bad in normal circumstances, but after earlier events, it nearly finished me off!

I've rarely been so relieved when the pub finally came into view ......

Always nice to tick off a pub you keep noticing in the GBG, but never quite get to, so I felt Oddfellows Arms, Mellor (1615 / 2584) was a satisfying one to get coloured in green.  Problem with the highly anticipated ones, you form an impression in your mind's eye and I was expecting something a lot more ramshackle and tumbledown than this, so was surprised and a bit disappointed by the level of dining and modernity I encountered.  And on arrival, it was that classic situation where everyone turned around to greet one of their local friends, saw it was me, I say 'hello' in a cheery way, and they kind of don't know what to do next and there's an awkward stand off.  Mellor didn't seem like a place where people liked eye contact.  Having said that, the young barmaid was a star and made a positive impression.  I paid her in 10's and 20's cos they were properly weighing me down, and she laughed, but might've hated me.  Probably not though, as she went through exactly where I could sit!  Something about 'even if they have reserved signs, I SHOULD be okay'.  I found it all a bit disconcerting as who wants to sit at tables with knives, forks, serviettes and menus anyway?  So in the end, I squashed into the end of a huge table for eight.  I couldn't push it out so good job all the walking meant my stomach was fairly flat!  Barmaid came around, mainly just so she could laugh at my slightly strained position!  Oh, and I should also mention the fantastic curvature, of the bar I mean.  My pint of Swinley Gold was top quality and a group of weird locals at a high table talked about 'mulch', 'drainage'  and other high octane Mellory issues.  A walk up to the Gents made me realise I could've sat in a perfectly nice seat up there and had leg room, so in this respect, it was a bit like New Mills in reverse.

I didn't really want to, but another two mile or so walk towards Marple was the only way I could get back towards civilisation!  People in the Mellor streets kept waving and saying hello, making me feel the strange attitude of the Oddfellows dwellers was even odder. 

Google Maps obviously thought I'd not had enough rural walking, and took me quite a picturesque way through woodland, hard to appreciate at the time as my legs were dropping off by now.

Fittingly, it took me past an old mill belonging to a local dude of our past called Sam Oldknow, as that was the first of two microey style ticks I had to do in the town, having conquered Marple Bridge the previous year.

It looked a bit like an old sweet shop or DIY store at the time (though not particularly in the above photo!), but I thought Samuel Oldknow (1616 / 2585) was the more characterful of the duo, in terms of decor and layout and just had a much homelier feel.  It was full of thirty somethings (the youngsters!) with miniature mutts.  Despite appreciating the upstairs, the busy evening throng plus the fact I was seriously overheated again after all this walking meant I went to explore the donwstairs area of the pub.  The stairs had a 'safety gate' across it to stop drunken louts or twild life falling down the stairs, but in having to fiddle with it anyway, I still nearly went flying for a THIRD time today, which would have been a terrible waste of my malty ultra traditional local bitter.  I found myself outside in the smoking area.   A lady with dog who'd been causing a fuss when I'd been at the bar was asking around for a lighter, but having no joy.  "IT IS COS NO ONE SMOKES ANYMORE!" I replied when she asks me.  Not true, but I was in obstreperous mood after the day's events and was taking no prisoners.  "I don't usually, but it has been ONE OF THOSE DAYS" she replied.  Dare I ask?  Well, I didn't, cos her crazy little dog called 'Happy' started making noises she'd never made before.  Then he started peering through the back of the outside area and getting very agitated. "There's no one there, no birds, no cats or dogs!" said lady, having done a quick recce.   "SHE'LL HAVE SEEN A GHOST.  DOGS SEE THINGS WE CAN'T!" I told her (told you I was in one of those moods).  She seemed genuinely unnerved.  My plan now was to swiftly drink up, and leave her and Happy alone with said ghost.  But she finished first, and they left.  Leaving me as the one bricking it, all alone with the ghost FFS!

So, yes something of a relief that the other pub in town, Beer Traders (1617 / 2586) was much more your dull archetypal outer Manc Micro, reminding me a little bit of Heaton Hops or something similar.  Beer quality was a highlight, even at this late stage, candidate for pint of the day though no idea what I was on.  The barmaid explained she couldn't stop dropping stuff today, as she dropped my cash, pint, some keys and something else in the space of 10 seconds, and then at the loos, a young lad went out of his way to warn me about the 'hot taps' and then wished me a lovely evening.  Still, no seats inside so I went to sit out and watch the Marple sunset with a family who all wore matching puffer jackets, as families love to do in the north west.  But it got chilly very quickly, and a large group left, so I took my pint back inside.  Barmaid came over to clear the table, so I told her "I WAS SAT OUTSIDE BUT I'VE COME BACK IN COS IT IS COLD AND I'M NOT AS HARDCORE AS I THOUGHT!"  Jeeez, what was wrong with me this evening?  Can't be alcohol related, surely.  All the walking meant I felt strangely sober during my 5th and 6th pubs.  But she couldn't linger to listen to my nth level of 'banter', cos a guy was chatting her up at the bar.  Friendly place, just a bit boring.

TMS Group Tavern?  I sat at yellow sear nearest window.

Own beermats.  Always worthy of a bonus point.

Bloke agonising over a beer decision.  Is the mural a cat or a castle?

Didn't realise this picture was quite good til now!

So it was train back to Manc, glad I checked, nearly walked to Rose Hill Marple instead of actual Marple!  An exhausting day, but six more ticks, three in Derbys.  The dream to finish the county by 1st Sept is still alive!

Si