Colin returned from his long post-Cornwall layoff for a rare Thirsty Thursday appearance. He needs an eye operation for cauli cataracts, but that would happen soon.
We'd said farewell to KLO three days previously, who'd gone to British Heart Foundation F.C. for an undisclosed sum.
|Goodbye friends! (saddest BRAPA photo since Judgey Jesus with the olives?)|
|With his new gaffer|
After two ridiculously hot days (36 and 39 degrees in York), we finally had a cooling down period, as I headed back over to Lancashire where Preston train station really is becoming a home from home, and I don't know how I feel about that. Even the pigeons are starting to recognise me.
Team Blackpool? Team Preston? Team Blackburn? It really depends which Twitter pub person I'm talking to. It's never Team Burnley though. I shouldn't that before tomorrow.
One of my most awkward remaining ticks was in Bispham Green. Nowhere near Bispham. South of Preston, close to Croston on an awkward bus route that runs every two hours. The pub closes mid afternoon for added GBG japes. Ticking, it'll be the death of me.
I was quite shocked to see the bus arrive. I was the only passenger, the bus resembled one of those care in the community chuggy little 1970's contraptions, which struggles up hills and emits an awful lot of fumes from its back passage.
Still, it got me there, and you can't ask any more from a bus.
The first question I'm asked on entering the Eagle & Child, Bispham Green (2296 / 3859) is 'will sir be eating with us this lunchtime?' but there is no 'r' in Si, and in any case, they weren't really that posh. For an award winning food pub, I was delighted to see that the core of an old village boozer was still in tact. It was dimly lit, there were carpets, crooked beams galore, a low ceiling, distinct drinking areas, and today at least, it wasn't too hard to find a tucked away alcove to take my pint of Speed Wobble, a song by Cerebral Ballzy, to. A more intimate Brunning & Price would be a fair description. At the bar, a bloke appears from the cellar triumphantly brandishing an ice cube on the end of a pair of scissors. "Done it!" he exclaims to the lady serving me. She looks at him like 'my hero'. What he'd done was unclear, but a blockage caused by an ice cube considering the recent climate seemed improbable. Staff members occasionally pop their heads around the corner and give me a reassuring smile, as if they cannot fathom someone being sat here on a weekday lunchtime simply drinking beer. A trip to the loo reveals a surprisingly expansive raised garden, including a part time bowling green, backing out onto a field. The grass is scorched from the summer heat. It is out here I sit for pint two (a Lister's Summertime, and both ales was in good nick here). With the bus timings, I had time to kill. I'm hungry now, and being outside gives me chance to smuggle the two Pepperami sticks I'd purchased earlier. Shrunk by a good few inches since BRAPA began ..... and Pepperami sticks have become shorter too.
|Col puts bucket hat on to try and deflect attention away from him not being a plum|
|Lytham Jayne (not Blackpool Jane) does the honours. I hope there's St Annes Jain.|
|Everyone hates us, we don't care|
|Some people are so tall, they block out the sun|
|I think gift voucher might be available. Dunno why, just a hunch|