BRAPA in ..... Lost in Lostwithiel (Cornwall Part 2)

It was about an hours walk from Luxulyan to Lanlivery, where I had one of those pubs with no train or bus symbol so this was probably going to be my best shot at getting to it.

The winding country lanes were mercifully quiet, I think I only passed five vehicles in the whole hour.  In fact, I tell a lie, it was three as the same BT OpenReach van passed me three times!  I was paranoid it was a BRAPA spy sent to thwart me, especially when he twirled the end of his moustaches and turned to his dog companion in the front seat who started chuckling like someone who didn't know the smoking ban had been in place since 2007.

The village of Lanlivery looked suitably 'worth the effort' once I reached it, the church nestling behind the long ancient looking pub ......

This was to contain one of the weirdest sets of folk I'd encounter all holiday, and for a 27 pub week in Cornwall, that is something of an achievement.  The warning signs were there from the start, quite literally ......

AKA if anything happens to you, it is your own stupid fault

And before I'd even reached the bar, a glass viewing bit in the floor which led to a well where they dump naughty pub tickers or something ......

The bar of the Crown Inn (1646 / 2615) was in near darkness, which I'd usually call a plus point if it wasn't for two huge black Labradors (Champ and Jasmin?) spread out across the uneven stone flagged floor (AS IF we needed any more obstacles in a place like this!)  I ordered this strong Harbour IPA from Bodmin and a contemporary source from the time reveals I wrote "this shit is good".  There was a strange silence in the room and a bearded local / retired landlord who looked like a kind of evil Bob Fleming off the Fast Show (and had same cough and accent) seemed to resent me sitting opposite as he read his paper, even though I was careful to make no noise.  But I was overheating after my walk so went to sit in the garden to 'cool' down despite the unseasonably chilly June greyness.  Staff were also smoking outside, and as I realised it was actually freezing and I'd have to go back in, I heard them saying "he thought he'd be better off outside than in!"  Were they REALLY talking about me?  Had Fleming been slagging me off?  Things improved after that, the landlady may've spotted my GBG for she theatrically admonished a young bar lad for serving Fleming a cloudy Doom Bar and exchanged it.  Turned out Fleming had a bad ear infection and was quite deaf, which may've explained his attitude, though he did laugh and wink as landlady pulled through the replacement and he roared "Handjob .... she gives a good one!"  Errrm, I think it's called Proper Job mate.  A visiting dog came in and misbehaved, startling Champ and Jasmin, so I was no longer public enemy no.1 by the time I left.  Still, I was glad to get out.  

Spot the dogs .... and I have actually lightened up that photo 

Fleming returns to the bar

During my brief stint outside

I kept walking east, this time to Lostwithiel.  The idea here was despite the current lack of GBG pub, it had a fairly regular one which I'd guess has been in more GBG's than most Cornwall pubs.  And it also has a railway station to get me back to Par.

It was a shorter walk at just 1.7 miles approx, but a bit scarier as some was on a main road which was just cruel .....

Geddit?

But soon, we (me, but I say 'we' so you can feel like you are on this journey with me) were at Lostwithiel (I didn't get lost at all, just couldn't think of a good blog title) and the pub, which just looked like a house - which is usually a good sign - came into view ......

Is that it?

Oh look, a bit more of a pubby entrance

Yes, the Globe Inn had the feel of a properly old pub, and the Globe was a ship in an 1813 sea battle where a member of the then owners family was killed, so said the last GBG.  Although I had plenty of time to kill before the train and time for two pints, I never really felt this was a great pub despite having everything in place.  Beer was fine but not as good as Luxulyan or Lanlivery so I think the decision to de-guide it was right on this evidence, though watch it get back in 2020!  Locals and staff another peculiar bunch, turning around expecting to know me, realising they didn't, and then not knowing how to react to my cheery 'hello!'  They did that thing I notice in Cornwall where they 'talk around you to show how amusing and sociable they are without actually making eye contact with you at any point' and an news story about a family with AIDS blaring out on the TV made a pretty dull mood positively depressing (HIV positively?  Sorry).  Highlight was when the cheeriest bloke who'd been banging on about over-population in Cornwall (!) for about 10 mins grabbed his phone and went "Siri, what was the population of Bodmin in 1971".   I couldn't stop laughing at the time, perhaps you had to be there!  It told him it didn't have a clue what he was on about (accent?) but when I ask, it just tells you what it is today!  A funny lad from work did find out that Google had the answers, but all in all, I was expecting the Globe to impress me much more than this, as Shania Twain once sang.

Can he find out the answer to the Bodmin riddle?  No.

Can the barman find out the answer?  No, he's probably googling Love Island or Plymouth Argyle

So, it was back to Quintrell Downs via Par.  First full day tomorrow.  I'll tell you about that in one or two parts tomorrow.  Is this blog write up REALLY going to be a 14 parter?  I feel sorry for you all.

Oh, and if you were wondering .......

Cheers, Si