BRAPA - Austwick, Settle and Gargrave

Dead animal fun at the Lion in Settle (pub 734)

Getting on a train with a load of (plastic) York based L**ds Utd fans was not in the script, and wishing 'good luck' to the group of friendly White Shite young men certainly wasn't, though they were complimentary of Hull City.  I'd like to think the luck I gave was the reason their defender somehow wasn't sent off for a second booking.  More boring football chat later, for now, I'd arrived safely in Settle for the first of two pubs .......

734,  Lion at Settle, Settle(!)

Has a pub ever had a more confusing entrance?  I went in to this courtyard and then tried each of the doors until I found one which didn't contain metal, knives or dust, seemingly a way to the toilets.  A side door took me into a modern gastropub but luckily, the bar area to my right was more promising.  The range was Thwaites heavy, a theme of the day, and I decided to brave the Nutty Black in the hope it didn't really contain nuts and kill me.  A "curiously dark beer" was the description, but after some imaginary tightening of the throat, I found it distinctly lacking curiosity.  Rather more curiously, a dead animal seemed to be draped over the back of my bench.  Without wishing to sound sexist, the pub had a very 'female' touch with pointless cushions everywhere.  A few old men were having breakfast and reading the papers, and one suddenly got up with a start and I'm sure he exclaimed "right, I'm off to see the tigers!" which I can only assume means there's a local zoo nearby.   I was soon alone and realised how bored the smartly uniformed staff were, anticipating a rush of lunchers which never happened whilst I was there.  Getting out proved equally difficult, the door I'd come in by was now locked, but I finally located the 'dwarf door' which led to the street.  Phew.

Beware the courtyard abyss at the Lion of Settle! 

735.  Talbot Arms, Settle

Two minutes walk later, I was at this pub which had become a bit of a monkey on the back after two abortive attempts in recent years (firstly, with Krzb on the Ribblehead A-Z day, and secondly, on my trip to Giggleswick last year where a sore foot stopped me attempting it).  After the modernisation of a great old coaching inn in the last place, it was nice to walk into a no nonsense green carpetted pub with not a lot of seats.  The two bar chaps weren't the most genial hosts you'd meet, but I decided to test them by asking for the Wifi password (which I didn't need in the Lion) and whilst I'm not disclosing it on this blog, they did educate me that a Talbot is a whitedog (lower case, no spaces).  A glance at the food menu told me it was very much on the edge of what was acceptable in my self important pub code of conduct, edging the £8 mark at times, whilst being sat next to the Specials Board meant I felt like the whole pub came to have a look at me!  This is where Settle's lunchgoers were, and quite heartwarming they'd chosen the more 'real' pub.  That's not to say the people were real, and an embarrassing speaker phone conversation between boy and grandma showed a lack of pub etiquette, whether he'd dived right to the bottom of the swimming pool or not.  I wish he'd stayed there!  On a happier note, the local Settle brewed ale was fantastic.  Furthermore, I'd just beaten the rush and was alone on the hugest table in the pub whilst a group of goths edged into a tiny corner and scowled at me from a distance as I stretched out.  When I left, the phrase "jump in my grave" sprang to mind, typical goths (and the smiley one with Harry Potter t-shirt who somewhat discredited them!)

White Dog-tastic foody, gothic, speaker phone fun at the Talbot.

The much anticipated downpour typically arrived as I waited for the bus to Austwick (pronounced Ostwick) as it was one of those dodgy "stops on both sides of the road, honest guv" stops so an old woman helped reassure me.  The fare was only £1.70 so was glad I hadn't got a £10 day ticket.  20 mins later, we were in the pretty quiet village that was my key pub of the day due to my alphabetical OCD!

736.  Game Cock, Austwick

Well, well, well.  The GBG description makes this sound like a gastro shithole with a tiny final bastion left over to the old fashioned drinker.  Whether I was just lucky and never saw the worst of it, I walked into a cracking little bar room with a few tourists and locals dotted around the perimeter, drinking or eating but this was pubby, make no mistake.  It was Thwaites-central again so I went for their Hallowe'en guest called "Boo!" (St Peter's had one with the same name in London).  A jovial walker joked with me about how to order it, but I chickened out of making the barmaid jump out of her skin by shouting "BOO!" at her, sadly.  I then discovered a mini staircase to a room with a view through to the bar, it only had two tables and was tiny, but I was alone to eat my Scotch Egg (best pub food to keep you sober I've realised) and this was highlight of the day.  It was in my mind, the best pub room I've been in probably all year, certainly since the Old Sun at Harlington in June.  You might find my next decision surprising, but I was feeling so benevolent, I went to ask a foody couple who were struggle on a barrel seat in the main bar to commandeer 'my' room!  And I sat in the bar with a cracking pint of Thwaites Wainwright smiling at strangers until it was bus time.

A surprisingly high quality experience in Austwick, North Yorks. 

Despite a longish bus journey via Settle, again the cost was ridiculously cheap (£3 or summat).  I'd considered Helwith Bridge (a 3 mile walk) but the lack of busses / trains from the mile away Horton in Ribblesdale meant it wasn't really going to be possible without a seriously late night, and as it was, I could get a 4th pub a lot easier......

737. Masons Arms, Gargrave

  

 As I entered the low ceilinged traditional old pub with it's oak beams, bench seating and homely feel set in a great location between church and river, this was almost 'Green Owl' (new eupehmism for my perfect pub) territory.  However.  Jeff Stelling was jabbering away on Sky Sports and a group a 5 excitable lads were loving it, especially one, who declared he was ONE result away from winning £4,100 on his accumulator.  All that needed to happen was that Middlesbrough had to equalise at Hull City, and I could barely contain my enjoyment of watching him squirm as his friend pretended they'd equalised, only seconds later for Jeff to tell us it was 2-0.  I punched my settee in delight, perhaps a bit too obviously as the whole pub turned around!   A gaggle of barmaids buzzed around, but the real star of the show was the landlord.  He couldn't have screamed "pub guv'nor" more if it had been tattooed across his forehead.  I felt sorry for the barmaid who arrived a whole 3 minutes late due to traffic.  But she didn't get the stern telling off I'd expected!  The beers were top quality, an Aired Ale from the much pushed Bridgehouse brewery and then one of the best Tim Taylor Landlord's I've had all year.  Really good pub this, to rival Austwick for pub of the day, and a Hull City 3rd did it no harm at all.  Gerrin Gargrave!  

Accumulator amusement in Gargrave

Despite a 34 minutes delayed train back to Leeds (which I've since learned from my transport correspondent was due to floods), it was a wholly successful day.  Even at this point, a trialist footballer offered me a lift with him and his agent back to Skipton but I decided not to bother and gave my Mum a ring instead to prove how sober Scotch eggs keep ya!  

A swift half in York Tap and some fish n chips spelled the end to a good day.  Back up to 96 pubs in North Yorkshire, though that might be it for 2015 from that county.  I never feel I make much progress with flippin' North Yorks!  

Bridgestones beers going down well in Masons Arms, Gargrave.

No Monday night archives this week, this Blog entry will have to do!  I might or might not be ready to release one next Monday.

Tomorrow night's trip with Christina to her typically student confines of Headingley are postponed whilst she recovers from girl-flu, but fear not, I'm hopping along to the next one alphabetically and with a Chas n' Dave gig on Wednesday, I'll try and do the Blog write up immediately i.e. tomorrow night.  

And Saturday sees Bedfordshire Part IX, hopefully getting 4 of the remaining 8 pubs I need to complete the county (if I don't get eaten by a lion).  Two more pubs combined with some Cambridgeshire ticks in December, and the final two combined with a bit of Hertfordshire early in the New Year).

See ya soon!  Si 

BRAPA - Brentford away

Waiting for the post-match football traffic to go past (Pub 729)

I managed to almost double my number of West London 'Good Beer Guide' ticks from 5 to 9 last Tuesday/Wednesday despite quite a rushed pre-match.  Luckily, me and Dad at least got to London on time and Tom was on hand to help us get across the city to Brentford as quickly as was humanly possible.  I didn't help myself by then temporarily misplacing my mobile phone, so it was approaching 6pm when I finally got to my ONE pre-match tick.

728.  London Apprentice, Brentford

I was more than ready for a pint after all the hassle of getting here, and the 10 minute riverside walk from the station in the rain.  Luckily, it had an immediately welcoming warm and friendly feel, as a local man with a stripey top wholeheartedly recommended the 'London Glory' ("if you loike Proide, you'll loike this wan!" he declared, and I tried to be enthusiastic).  The pub is grade II listed and had a low ceiling and some nice beams to add to the cosy feel, but Dad and Tom had for some reason decided to it in the one area lacking this same warmth, a side room doubling up as a horrific gastro-restaurant, so my first job was to move that back into the hub of the pub.  The bench seating was a bit awkward just to remind you we were in (s)wanky London town, though the £4.25 pint price did that!  Happily, Tom reported the price of blackcurrant was competitive at least.  We learnt this place used to house Isleworth brewery so a shame they've knocked that on the head, but the beer range was good with still a lot of leftover Hallowe'en themed ale on offer.  Dad's friend Gareth eventually arrived, a nice positive young chap and despite being quite local, he didn't know this place and was soon earmarking it for a Sunday lunch place to visit with his family.  A good pub if you are in the area.

Finally arriving at the London Apprentice in ghostly damp November weather. 

Gareth helped us get a bus (and chips) and after a surprisingly good Hull City effort, I decided to make up for the lack of pre-match action with two post match ticks, the first a short 15 minute walk from Griffin Park......

729.  Express Tavern, Brentford

We'd bumped into Chris D and Christine who had rated this as the best of their pre-match pubs, and after my visit, I'd have to agree it was pub of the day.  Gareth knew this one and had also rated it highly, but I set my expectations low thinking ordinarily, pubs near football grounds never quite live up to expectations.  Again, stepping inside immediately gave me a sense of well being, with a warm bustling hubbub, historic (1800's) feel and nice bare boarded floors (always the best way). supplemented by a great range of ales especially by London standards.  I went for a fantastic Dark Wave Porter from Surrey, pint of the night, though Tom told me off for not having the Draught Bass (they had a neon Bass sign outside you see).  We settled into a nice corner in a side bit to the back right of the pub, and reflected on the fact that Hull City are the best team in the world.  Seriously though, Dad then found some ancient books and put one of my BRAPA cards inside one, in the hope it would be found in 50 years time.  One Brentford fan hadn't read the script though, and as soon as we left, was quickly up at the bookcase to see what mysterious object Dad had placed in the book.  Good news for BRAPA - I'm going to try and find more novel places to secrete my cards in pubs, following on from Andy's Whitby noticeboard effort.

Neon Bass sign at the Express Tav, but no Bass for me (photo courtesy T.Irvin)

We bid farewell to Gareth, and Tom went off somewhere train based, so me and Dad walked the mile plus back towards the centre of Brentford for one of the latest BRAPA ticks ever.  

730.  Magpie & Crown, Brentford

Pre-match in here had sounded like a bit of a nightmare, with beers going off left right and centre, lethargic staff and cancelled food orders, but then again, this is the whole reason I decided to make this a BRAPA tick at this time, once I'd seen it opens til midnight.  And credit to Dad who was still with me (physically at least) having been building a shelf at 7am or something bizarre!  So I had my reservations, and a group of Brentford fans having a few commiseration pint, gave my Hull shirt a good look on the way in and said 'hello' as if they wanted me to say something witty and snappy about how good Brentford are ..... it wasn't gonna happen!  I was relieved to see a well-stocked bar and plenty of hardworking staff, and we were the only Hull fans in here so plenty of locals staring at these dirty northerners.  The pub was suffering from my age old gripe .... needless standing at the bar!  But as I got our dirnks in and Dad found a seat over to the right, a nice young home fan said he was sure we'd get promoted - but to keep me in my place, a larger the life huge 'super fan' appeared to (a) remind me that Burnley are better and (b) they hit the post at 1-0 (a comment he repeated about ten times in as many minutes).  My Park Pale ale was zingy, a nice citrus cleanser after all those heavy dark ales.  As midnight struck, our eyes were both closing and it was time for the trek back to the Travelodge.  The locals were still outside, and said 'goodbye' again as though they wanted me to say something snappy and witty about how lucky we were,  Wasn't going to happen!  

It's the late,late show in Brentford.  Latest BRAPA pint of the year?

After a good night's sleep (thanks Lenny!), it was a case of the early bird catches the worm as I met up with Tom in Hounslow just after 9am, and we all know what pub chain are generally open by then don't we? 

731.  Moon Under Water, Hounslow

Yes, my first 'Spoons tick for quite a while and I was chuffed I remembered to use my CAMRA voucher to get my 50p off.  Our barmaid had potential for the 'brunette' award, but she lacked a bit of natural spark and personality, even when Tom gave her the chance by disclosing I couldn't count despite working in a bank!  It initially felt wrong to be drinking a pint of Maxim Stout only 9 hours after I'd finished my previous one, but once a nice plate of Eggs Benedict (my favourite breakfast) was upon me, it felt like we were starting again.  As 'Spoons go, this was above average as it actually had a proper old fashioned pub atmosphere and some nice booths to hide in, reminiscent of the Drapers Arms in Peterborough.  The staff obviously get paid more than me, as they were discussing Secret Santa and a £5 limit.  At work, we have a £1 limit and call it Secret Scrooge.  Working in a bank eh?  Anyway, it was past 10am so time to move on.  

Early morning Spoonsing in Hounslow

Dad was on his way back to Kings Cross, but credit to him for arranging for me to be booked on a later train to give me a bit more BRAPA leeway.   Tom agreed that it made sense to do, from what I could see, the last GBG pub I'd still to tick off that doesn't open on a weekend.  This was at Farringdon so despite a full bladder, I held on to Kings Cross and the one stop out there on the Met line.  

Farringdon is quite a posh place, and the pub was down a tricky side street the opposite way to the one I normally leave the station by.  But a moment of disaster narrowly avoided, as it looked like the pub was closed as we took the obligatory BRAPA photo.  So I used "all my experience" to give the door a little push, and phew (bladder-wise as much as anything), the pub was open as advertised! 

732.  Jerusalem Tavern, Farringdon

And what a little gem of an old pub it was too, you could feel we were on a 14th century site and some strange ghostly singing coming from another part of the pub only added to this feel.  I guess the veil between life and death was still quite thin, only 4 days after 31st Oct!  The pub was also novel for me in that it's owned by St Peter's, that Suffolk brewery most famous for their strange shaped green bottles, some of the first real ales I ever tried but never seen them on handpull.  Rather annoyingly, they seemed to put keg (the erroneously named "craft ales") first, with the casks on a back wall with just the taps showing and no real pump clips, like some kind of micro pub.  Our host, a young chap, lacked a friendliness you'd have expected for a pub like this, first customer's of the day, but no complaints otherwise, just a super Porter to rival the Express Tavern stout.  It's fair to say I was exhausted by this stage, and any brief hopes of squeezing in another one before my train back to York died pretty quickly.  Still, I was quickly telling Dad (a Farringdon regular visitor) that he must try out this place.  

The ancient 1720 pub Jerusalem Tavern in Farringdon.

And there was another nice GBG quirk about visit this pub.  The first listed under London, whilst the last is the Admiral Nelson in Whitton which we missed out on due to it's closure for refurbishments, and I'm glad both Tom and Dad checked that one as I hadn't!  

Oh, and Tom confirmed I'd done the Black Lion in Plaistow (to be reviewed in the archives shortly), something I'd suspected but wasn't confident enough to put down.  So we'll call it 733 pubs now.

Five new ticks was a fine result in the end, as there wasn't much time to relax from the minute we arrived in London to the train home.  No wonder I slept pretty much for the rest of Wednesday. 

Si

BRAPA - Knottingley

Pub pet of the year contender in Knottingley

Knottingley is one of those West Yorkshire towns you've heard of, but probably haven't had any reason to visit, unless of course for example you are trying to tick off everyone pub in the Good Beer Guide and one appears in Knottingley.

The trains seem very infrequent from Leeds, and I couldn't see a bus service either, so I had no choice but to hang around until 17:16.  I didn't want it to be a fruitless experience though .....

Head of Steam, Leeds

I've been hearing positive reviews of this fairly new place just a stones throw from the station, situated from memory in an old Tetley's pub called Spencers which everyone used to walk past and ignore whilst on the way to next door Scarbrough Hotel.  So at least it felt like an old pub with a huge circular bar, an impressive beer range, and what looked like a hidden upstairs balcony though no idea if the general public are allowed up there.  A very smiley barman broke off from his flirting with blonde barmaid to run round a serve me an excellent Wharefebank Stout.  It was stout weather, very foggy, drizzling rain and almost dark despite not being 5pm.  The pub was generally dead, apart from a few lone drinkers dotted around so I perched on a stool near the bar to get a feel for the place.  When music wasn't playing, possibly the worst laugh ever encountered in a BRAPA pub cut the atmosphere like a knife.  It was a combination of a wicked witch and a car with a low battery.  I couldn't see her but I could make out her hubbie, and assumed he was the funniest man ever as she just didn't stop!  Everyone else just smiled to themselves and tapped on their phones, so I did the same.  A proper old pub made into a real ale haven then, a great pre-emptive and being in Leeds, a good one to consider for night's out, gigs, work drinks etc. and a good antidote from all the Tapped, Friends of Ham, Brewery Tap, Veritas, Botanist type places dominating the scene.

A very pleasing pre-emptive for Leeds

After a pretty excruciating train journey lasting almost an hour, I was finally in Knottingley and the weather hadn't eased up at all, so it was hard to get a feel for the town, though the hooded kids hanging around outside a kebab shop made me think 'dodgy' straight away.  It was a fair 20 minute walk across town to the pub, on a bridge over the Aire & Calder canal, probably a beautiful outdoor summer drinking location.

727.  Steampacket Inn, Knottingley

Quite a huge pub actually, which surprised me, and I was greeted by a massive anchor (not rhyming slang) in the porch.  Something to do with a steamer from the old shipyard.  I try to occasionally pay attention to the cultural and historical elements!  An old local with 'Knottingley eyes' looked at the distrustfully, and then I was greeted by a pleasant wiry chap who I think was the landlord.  He had three ales on offer, I had a Green Hop from Marston's and a Bull's Eye by Jennings - both quite standard (i.e. boring) but nowt to suggest this place was Marston's tied.  The landlord asked me if it was still raining so I gave him a more in depth weather report than he really appreciated!  As I went to sit in the comfy large lounge area, I spotted that most pleasing of BRAPA quirks, a PUB CAT asleep on a chair.  I left him to it, cats like their boundaries unlike daft dogs.  But he was soon eyeballing me with those same "Knottingley eyes", and before I knew it, he'd come over for a cuddle and head scratch, such an affectionate little kitty, I called him Colonel Chambers and think he knew the BRAPA pub pet of the year award is still up for grabs.  He was soon off again though, back to his chair but I like to think he recongised me as a cat person.  And then I heard THAT LAUGH again - nooooo!  Surely not two women with such a laugh?  Well I went to the bar to get my half of boring Jennings, vaguely recognised the man, and enquired as to whether they'd just come from Head of Steam in Leeds, which they of course had.  BRAPA co-incidence of the year?  Soon they came to sit with me and we had a good BRAPA chat, she actually stopped laughing, and he was from Northumberland so was looking up pubs in that county, one I have very much neglected.  I was diplomatic and said her laugh was "characterful" though we all knew the truth!   A good pub.  

Steampacket in the murky, misty November evening in Knottingley

So there you have it, I had actually considered combining this trip with Pontefract and Kirk Smeaton but ultimately it was all a bit too much like hard work.  There is still an outside chance I can complete West Yorkshire by the end of 2015, especially if I don't go to the Man Citeh cup game, though I think I'll also need no-one to start wanting "Christmas night's out" in December which usually scuppers BRAPA (well, it did last year, the only year!) 

And speaking of which, East Yorkshire should be completed (again!) by the end of this month and I've booked my (final) Bedfordshire trip out for January to complete that county so things are progressing well.  

I'll be back tomorrow to review Tuesday's trip to Brentford where I got 5 more ticks in.   

See you then, Si 

BRAPA Special - The Green Owl

The Green Owl is a pub which you can all recognise, though I doubt any of you reading this will have actually visited one quite so good.

Even it's name, "the Green Owl", is kind of quirky and ever so slightly traditional at the same time, and the Owl (not green in colour, a bog standard barn owl I think!) watches over you, painted on a centuries old rusty pub sign which creaks in the wind, it is one of those traditional inn signs which swings from side to side and juts out from the building.

You approach the pub on foot.  It is only approx 1.5 miles from both the nearest rail and bus links, a gentle uphill climb taking about half an hour at most, whilst for some environmental reason which I can't explain, cars are forbidden from making the climb along the grassy dirt track (exceptions made for beer delivery I assume!)  So you HAVE to be making an effort to come here, unless you are a lost rambler of course.

The views from 'up top' are stunning, and birds of prey circle and call out, there cries echoing around the valley, whilst you can hear the gush of water crashing down it.  On a clear day, you might even see abseilers on the vertical rock face which frames the pub as you approach it.  There are plenty of sheep and cows dotted around the landscape too.   I think there's a nature reserve and it's also a great spot for anglers nearby though I've never really got beyond the pub.  Why would I?

The pub is thatched, and it has tudor style beams though it is painted olive green as it has for as long as anyone can remember.  Perhaps this is where the 'green' in the 'Green Owl' title comes from.  Some say it's something pagan.  There's usually a blackboard leaning outside with some witty comment, quote or even some blatant self-advertising chalked into it.

On entering, you'll always get a warm welcome from John and Mary, a recently retired couple who know the pub trade but have moved from the city to somewhere a bit more rural.  They are a kindly traditional couple who always look you in the eye, and treat first time visitors with the same warmth that they treat the small band of regulars, mainly retired farm workers.  These regulars generally lean at the bar, laughing and joking with John and Mary.  No stools at the bar though, you have to encourage punters to be able to get to the bar to see the beers properly, the locals know the drill and will probably recommend you a beer.

Both landlord and landlady are very sprightly for their age, John is up and down that cellar changing the ales with the gusto of someone half his age.  Mary's a proper old fashioned housewife, and she makes fresh filled rolls (pease pudding is the locals favourite) daily, and even makes her own scotch eggs.

There is no hot food at the Green Owl, but along with the rolls and the scotch eggs, some specialty pork pies are supplied by a local butcher whilst there's an obligatory jar of pickled eggs which has been there for years.  The rumour is they've been there since the end of the war, and if you eat one whole, Mary will stand you half a pint at no charge!  There is a great range of crisps and some pork scratchings, no nuts because John has an allergy.

The pub is so old (they claim 16th century), it seems sunken into the floor but has a tardis effect, it's a lot bigger inside than you'd think.  Upholstered bench seating surrounds most of the perimeter with the bar on the back wall.  There are a few tables central but a clear route to the bar at all times.  There are a few snugs to the right, some big enough to almost be called small rooms in there own right, the highlight being an ancient huge oak settle.

If you come on a Friday night, you won't get to sit here as local musicians come in with their instruments and play a ceilidh, on and off, for the entire evening.  There is no piped music, no TV, no games machines.

Phone signal is poor as you'd imagine but hey, this is the 21st century, so in a rare nod in that direction there is a WiFi password, and guess what, it actually works.  Access is disabled every Thursday evening though, it's quiz night and old Albert (93 this December) has a habit of texting his grand kids for answers, they've taught him well!

There is a welcome real fire, which crackles away happily in the winter months (and much of the spring and autumn too up here).  The pub is very well insulated though through proper ancient honest building materials.   The ceiling is so low that anyone over six foot tall is going to have to stoop a bit, still it's handy for sticking the vast array of pump clips on the ceiling (or nicking them I suppose!)

There's a dartboard as well, and an ancient hood skittles table - the locals are in a league and have about 200 years experience between them - the reigning champions.  No pool table sadly but you can't have everything and they say it will only attract the rabble from the town!

And how could go this long without mentioning Rachel?  Pretty brunette post-grad student, daughter of John and Mary and she returns a few times a year to inject her bubbly personality on proceedings, and to flash her milk white smile and sparkly eyes which radiate around the pub.  She pretends she's doing them a favour by "coming back to help", but she can't stay away from this little utopia for too long, how could anyone?

The pub usually has six guest ales on and a real cider, no lager, no keg in here.  A few bottles if you are so inclined, oh and a full range of cordials (including blackcurrant) if you are a non drinker.  The ales are sourced from local microbreweries which don't tend to get much of a look in at other places, there are normally two pales, a golden, a standard bitter, a stout or porter and some speciality style which becomes a talking point, such us a saison or a wheat beer for example.  The cider is usually dry or medium dry, we're talking something Welsh or South Western usually.  The beers are cool enough but not over chilled, crystal clear (unless unfined or a wheat beer etc) and the quality is always exceptional, that is what they pride themselves on above all else.  Prices are good too, about £2.80 a pint depending on strength, you'd get change from £3 anyway.

John & Mary have vague plans to start brewing their own beer, but will only do so if they know it's going to be as much of a 'hit' with the locals as the ales they currently sell (a tough ask) so will be consulting 'people in the know' on that one - no point brewing their own if it isn't up to scratch is their attitude!  Local CAMRA love this pub, and are keen to help advise them.

They did once try upping the beer range to 10, but quality suffered.  Less is sometimes more.  Besides, the pub is never heaving enough to go through the barrels quite so quickly (not that they'd let it sit there too long), but the Green Owl always manages to have a hubbub and atmosphere even at the quietest times, maybe it is all ingrained in the fabric of the building, like ghosts of yesteryear.  

The toilets are outdoors (well, the gents are - the ladies one was only built in the last 30 years, I guess women didn't come in here/weren't allowed before then!)  Anyway, the loos are always clean, soap, paper towels (no dryers!), regularly cleaned, but not too bleachy - it can affect the taste of your beer.  
Whilst we are outside, the garden (and it really is a beer garden, not one of these 'smokers' areas - they have their own little side patio area) is vast and rolls down towards a dry stone wall and stream, sheep in the field behind so you are very much at one with nature.  Picnic benches galore, they do one mini beer festival out here every June, with Morris Dancers, face painters and a barbecue, plus some terrible 'live' bands which have the sheep running down the hillside - well, it's always a good day, and the one time kids and dogs are allowed!

So yes, sorry, John & Mary are very clear on those particular ground rules - no children or dogs at all times in the pub,  Besides, it might upset 'Diddles', the pub cat who pretty much sleeps all day and doesn't really let much bother her, though she doesn't like her own name much!

I've probably forgotten to describe some of the intricacies of this wonderful hostelry, but I think you get the idea.  A modern day "Moon Under Water", George Orwell style, I suppose.

Thanks for reading, Si
  

BRAPA - Milton Keynes away

My superb view at the Red Lion, Fenny Stratford (see pub 726)

I broke my Bucks BRAPA duck yesterday with a commendable three pub effort (the MK Wetherspoons not currently being in the Good Beer Guide).  Buckinghamshire joins Essex, Gloucs, Kent and Worcs on three.

After arriving in Milton Keynes via Euston at about 10:15am, we had a long walk into town from the railway station, in a very straight line, such is the crazily uniformed layout of MK.  One of the main conclusions from the day was that MK is traffic friendly, but not pedestrian friendly despite the strange parallel walkways.

724.  Slug & Lettuce, Milton Keynes

My joke about this being the most historic, architectural gem in the whole of Milton Keynes went down well on social media, perhaps it was actually true!  Anyway, unlike the Leicester version of this chain, there wasn't a buzzing pre-match throng of breakfasting people enjoying a wide range of ales.  Only two were on, Tim Taylor Landlord being the most exciting and to be fair, it was well kept having made a similar journey to us.  Dad seemed to be flagging already.  Maybe MK had drained his soul.  Speaking of which, the obligatory 'nod to Hallowe'en' was in the form of old B-movie posters.  At least, that's what I thought until I read titles such as "City of the Alien Invasion" and "How to Identify a Zombie" and wondered if they were just tourist information posters.  And as for the Wolfman, he was just a regular chap with much facial hair and a crazed expression.  The barman was a nice, helpful chap though his touch of southern hemisphere accent slightly hindered his chances of staff of the year, not that we are prejudiced here on BRAPA.  The only other customer, an old woman, had fallen asleep behind me briefly raising hopes in my mind of a first BRAPA death, which would have helped this rather non-descript pub stick in the mind.  As it was, mine host called her a taxi and she was soon on her way back home.  And we had a bus to catch.

Heritage heaven in Milton Keynes

Dad was really in my hands re the logistics of today went, so I was glad when bus 23 turned up and went in a northerly direction.  Plus Bus worked too.  We were soon being dropped perfectly as I envisaged, on the outskirts of Great Linford.  Problem is, I hadn't really then worked out how to get to the pub - Google Maps was no help at all.  Luckily, a friendly dog walker assisted us and soon we were crossing a bridge alongside the Grand Union Canal, our pub just on the other side. 

725.  Black Horse, Great Linford

It looked like a creaky old ancient inn from the outside, but it was soon clear this was gastro-tastic, and we were nearly grouped in with two women who'd just come in for lunch.  Staff were good though, and when the women had been dispatched to a dining room to the left, we were served, again from a choice of just the two ales, but the Oxford Gold was good if maybe a bit thin,  The low ceiling and little nooks and crannies gave quite a nice pub atmosphere, even if the diners did keep arriving.  However, it was clear that this pub wasn't going to have enough to keep us occupied until the match, (even though the loos were in a strange double upstairs location and smelt of lavender) so I rang for a taxi, Ace, which was reliable and contradicted the dodgy online review I'd read and after what seemed like a fair old drive, we were in Fenny Stratford.

Canal side action at the Black Horse, but nicer out than in.

726.  Red Lion, Fenny Stratford

Dad was just taking the obligatory BRAPA photo of me outside the pub, when Dave Miller popped his head out of the door to welcome us in.  This was like a 'Welly' home-coming, with loads of old faces of Hull City fans I'd not seen for ages, cluttering the main bar which had a covered pool table and a hidden side room with a congregation of well hidden Amber Nectar people.  We ordered a Hydes 1864 original, a real proper taste of Manchester, but what was this, plastic glasses?  More on that later.  Me and Dad had a brief spell of being sociable, but when fanzine hero Matt caused a distraction, Dad (with mojo well and truly restored) saw the opportunity to nip through a conservatory into a beer garden onto the one bench in the sun.  Move of the day!  It was ridiculously summery for October 31st, and the location was stunning as we watched canal boats negotiate the lock (I'd have been annoyed if I'd had a load of pubbers gawping at me trying to drive one of those things), there was also some great buildings to admire and plants to identify!  It was like summer.  Christine and Chris D came along about 1:15pm to join us, and then a local walking his rat (oops I mean dog) chatted to us.  He explained how L**ds fans had turned up drunk a few weeks ago, broken off the canal gate and trashed two other pubs in town, hence the plastic glasses.  His rat-dog was mingling happy with Hull City fans, he'd never done this with other team's fans because WE are the nicest, still the Gooligans weren't present.  The beers again were a bit limited, the Ghost Ship had gone off so I was back on the Young's Special like in Bedford last week, but make no mistake, this was an excellent pre-match session.  

Arriving in sunny Fenny Stratford, we sat on a bench to the right that you can't quite see. 

After a laborious Hull City performance which at least ended well, and a traumatic walk to Bletchley station (which at least ended well!), we were back at Euston in surprisingly good time.

Dad was sure he hadn't been to the Bree Louise (not including a more recent aborted attempt with Tom post-Watford after an Everton v Liverpool cup game at Wembley - too busy).  Both me and Christine found this very hard to believe, so it was time to take him to see if anything stirred in his mind!  It didn't, and further research (thanks Christine!) shows my first (and long awaited) visit was probably 20th Feb 2010 after a West Ham away game which I remember Dad did NOT go to, so this makes sense.  Anyway, it was heaving so we sat outside, Dad had a dry cider and my "Horrible Night Stout" by Wild Weather Ales was easily my pint of the day.  We had to contend with two weirdo Man Utd fans (Kevin & Perry?) but that's the territory in such commuter pubs, still nice to see more than 3 beers on a bar. 

A "Horrible Night's Stout" outside at Bree Louise, a fine pint.

Back in Kings Cross for the 8pm train home, all in all, a very successful day all things considered.

November Preview

My target for the end of October was 720, I am currently on 726 so I'm ahead of schedule.  A 27 pub month was very pleasing.  So even if I have a bad November, I should be easily on course for the 750 by the end of the year......possibly the end of this month! 

That's not to say I'll be complacent.  Best laid plans and all that.....

A perfect example of what I mean is Brentford on Tuesday.  What was looking like being an extremely productive BRAP-fest is now going to be a bit of a struggle,  I won't be in Brentford til after 16:30 so have had to revise plans.  Whitton & Isleworth pre-match.  Kew Bridge and Brentford post match.  Hounslow the following morning for brekkie is a bonus option though.   It is what it is  (great phrase) and I'm looking forward to a "great day out" though not too optimistic football-wise!  

I'm actually now contemplating a rare Monday night BRAPA trip tomorrow.  Knottingley is next on the West Yorkshire list and being off work plus the late start on Tuesday means it makes sense in my mind, at least.  Nothing definite, I'll sleep on it!

The rest of the month will see me get back on the North Yorkshire trail (7th and 28th), we have our monthly trip to Bedfordshire on the 14th in the forboding form of Luton, whilst the 21st sees a trip to Bristol, though 3 o'clock kick off it ain't.  I'm also hoping to get back in the West Yorks midweek routine on 10th, 17th and 24th.   Twenty four pubs this month?  I should coco.  

Si

  

BRAPA - Robin Hood's Bay & Whitby (a Hallowe'en Special)

I've heard of deep fried Mars Bars but really?? 

A bonus BRAPA trip on Thursday gave North Yorkshire 4 more ticks (I've now done 92 for the 2016 Good Beer Guide) to see it very much cement it's place in second spot.

The day set out damp and chilly, with a bit of watery sunshine as I waited for the bus from Scarborough to take me up the coast to Robin Hood's Bay which had two pubs I 'needed' to do.  The double decker (not deep fried) was full to busting, with goths, southern tourists and half term brats all in attendance, and it soon steamed up so nobody had a clue where we were.

Trusty Google Maps helped but it was chucking it down as I found a coastal footpath to save me walking up the very steep hill to the Dolphin.

A nice coastal walk in RHB.

I was at the Dophin 10:45am, it said 11am opening, but if the door is open, I'm obliged to ask the question.  Okay, so the place was in a state of chaos but the answers of "no chance" and simply "hah!" from the large hairy barman was never going to endear me to the place.  Especially as I returned, soaked to the skin by now at 11:35am only for toothless cleaning lady to tell me they still weren't ready!  Well why are you smoking outside then and not working?  This is probably the main tourist trap pub in down with it's picturesque exterior on a hill in the heart of town, so to not be open on half term week in these circumstances simply isn't acceptable.  More on there later.

Rewind a bit, and I'd walked back along the coastal path to the first pub of the day, an 11:30am advertised opener.  Again, I could get inside as the tea room was open(!) so despite being 10:55am, I took my chance.....

720.  Victoria Hotel, Robin Hood's Bay

And what a difference a pub makes.  I found my way to the bar room from the corridor and stood there for 2 minutes, it didn't look good.  A woman appeared and I explained I knew I was earlier but.... and she found another lady to serve me!  I made sure I was grateful and sat in the large room, supping a nice Sonnet 43 pale from Durham.  Some tourists who'd presumably stayed the night were having coffee and breakfasts, some shrieking kids unfortunately but the room was large enough for them to be kept at a distance.  A smiley old woman read her Phillipa Gregory book whilst her husband looked at his laptop, occasionally breaking off to chuckle and tell her something that was happening in the news.  It was all very serene apart from a nervous Dad dropping all his change at the bar, whilst a couple of males members of staffed chatted in the doorway and stopped anyone getting in or out.  My ale took a bit of getting used to, but I liked it once the initial bready taste had gone.  They sell something called "beer bats" where you can get 6 third-pint measures, very fitting for this time of year!  The room was lovely wood panelling, had a really nice old 19th century feel.  As I left, one of the men who'd been lurking in the corridor made a big play of making me go out the bar way, rather than back through the tea room which was a bit odd, but he seemed friendly enough. A good pub to bring up my October target of 720.

"I'm the left side, I'm the left side, I'm the left side Vic Hotel!"

Back to Ye Dolphin farce, and having tried unsuccessfully to get in twice, a third rejection would have just been embarrassing so after a quick phone catch-up with Dad, I lurked in the rain across the street and "watched".  Never stalked a pub before.  Anyway, a couple went in so I followed close behind...... it was 11:52am!

721.  Dophin, Robin Hood's Bay

There was no time for sarcastic slow hand-clapping as I noted a couple with big dog already sat in front of the welcoming fire.  And there was no way around them.  The couple who I followed were struggling to get served as our big hairy host was taking his time, breathing heavily and toothless wonder was nowhere to be seen.  Then two big groups followed and it was chaos in the little bar room, and I had to just keep my place at the bar.  Eventually, I was in, and sold my soul to a gimmicky LED flashing pint of Hobgoblin, the beer of this time of year.  It was pretty good, but I think I was already looking on this pub with less than rose-tinted specs.  I sat in the main bar and soon, a second barmaid appeared, a very jolly friendly happy woman which this place needed but it was too little too late as everyone had been served (though most returned to place lunch orders).  Lobster Thermidor at £14.95 summed it all up really.  The 'decor' was obligatory Hallowe'en, mainly fake cobwebs which begged the question "why did they just not bother cleaning at all, then we could have had genuine cobwebs and 11am opening?!"  To be honest, the pub was very much like some of York's old famous ones, a kind of mash-up of Black Swan, Golden Fleece and Red Lion, with slightly better beer quality.  Don't waste your time, head for the Vic instead.  

Ye Dolphin, overrated tourist nonsense.

I took the bus up the coast to Whitby now, a bit of a cliche to come here on half term week at this most haunted of times, but BRAPA doesn't discriminate.  Well, only against rubbish pubs.  It's nearly 13 months from my last fairly disastrous trip here and it's amazing how nice climbing the 199 steps can be without a broken toe, even if a little girl managed to "out-count" me on the way up.  

Whitby Abbey, nice and bleak at the top of the 199 steps.

After one of the nicest freshest pieces of fish I'd ever had, I nearly got run over by some crazy steampunks with goggles chasing each other down the street.  It was pub time!  

722.  Granby Hotel, Whitby

Thankfully out of the main tourist reaches, I found this cracker of a pub building next to a posh crescent of B&B's called West Cliff.  The pub had two sides, so typically of me, I entered the one with no people in it but this time, the right decision as some goths in hysterics were watching Neighbours and generally not being very stereotypically goth in the small upper right hand side.  I had the whole lounge area to myself, even if the fire was giving off no heat at all.  The landlord seemed a nice chap, and I ordered an Old Peculiar cos twice today I'd seen adverts for it which is peculiar(!) and I thought "if I see it, I must order it, it must be a sign!".  Nursing a pint of warming barley wine in a quiet lounge bar was exactly what I needed at this stage of the day.   The most peculiar thing really was, on doing my pub research, is that this pub is a genuine freehouse but always puts on three Marstons, Theakstons and Cameron's Strongarm.  I'm not anti the bigger names as a rule but it still struck me as very queer.  A massive dog walked in next and reminded me that pub calm can't be maintained forever, especially as it looked like it wanted to kill me when everyone else came in and commented how lovely he was.  As I left, he shone an eye at me very much like the evil baddie Transfer in Willie Fog's 80 days around the world. 

The Granby - ignore the Banks's sign, a bona fide free house (below) with a twist! 

723.  Little Angel Inn, Whitby

Back towards the harbour and station, there was no surprise to see this pub heaving, despite the mid afternoon hour.  What did surprise me though was a wide range of guest ales from micros.  I'd previously been to five Whitby pubs, and found the beer range rather disappointing.  I squashed in at the bar and ordered my second Sonnet 43 ale of the day, "Another Is Cried" which I described as red and delicious at the time.  I found a nice big table all to myself in the side room despite the people standing at the bar (grrrr! pet hate!)  and this was good news because by happy coincidence, my sister and her boyfriend were visiting BRAPA's favourite Whitby resident Lucy Williamson, and the trio joined me for a drink.  My sister Lu had just got a fringe, so my opening comment "I thought you had a wig on!" was never going to go down well.  I tried to insist it was a compliment.  Anyway, we had a nice drink after that though the hot water tap in the gents, deary me, really needs one of those "caution - almost boiling water" signs as I suffered third degree burns almost.  Meanwhile, Andy was pinning a BRAPA card to their noticeboard to help increase my appeal!   Sadly, I had to dash off for the 4pm train just when I could have settled down to a proper drinking session.

The Lucy duo prove they are no little angels in the Little Angel.

A typically excruciating slow stopper to Middlesbrough ensued, but I had an hour before the train back to York so it was pre-emptive time.  

Infant Hercules, Middlesbrough

I've said it before and I'll say it again, the micro pub revolution is needed nowhere more than a town like 'Boro.  I judged this one (of the five) to be closest to the station, so took a chance and wasn't a long walk when I got my bearings.  This was a pleasingly small micro, like a box, well a rectangular one and a few locals and our bearded host who looked like something from an American new wave folk band were setting the world to rights.  I ordered a nice but unspectacular pint of Jeepers Creepers, the 3 or 4 beers on were mostly Hallowe'en themed and the barman was so quick, I had to ask a kind old chap if that really was my pint, it just seemed to materialise on the bar!  Wooo.  Spooky.  Boro' had beaten Man Utd on penalties in the cup the previous day so there was a lot of pride about that, and the comment "it's nice to see some Championship clubs in the quarters" had me agreeing wholeheartedly.  The next comment "Man City should walk it from here" did make me grit my teeth a bit, but guess it's realistic.  And here's to a semi final trip to Boro' so I can sample three of the remaining four micropubs, if we don't do them in the league that is (we might leave the Twisted Lip for a quieter time, I have my reasons).  And I wouldn't mind popping back in here either.

Pre-emptive, Micro, friendly, football chat - can't fault this pub!

And I'll be back later for a report on Saturday's trip to Milton Keynes. 

Si

 

  

BRAPA : the archives (341-350)

Evening all!  Welcome back to the now official Monday night archives slot, though we probably only have four or five sessions left in truth.  Are you getting teary eyed?

Here's some more as we travel to counties like Durham, Gloucestershire, Hampshire, Lancs and Lincolnshire where I visited pubs yesteryear, before BRAPA was a seedling in my addled brain.

341.  Head of Steam, Durham

Probably somewhere between Newcastle's scuzzy gig Head of Steam, and the grand but sometimes foody Huddersfield version, JW2 thought that despite it being by no means a Durham GBG regular, he should bring me here before my train back home on my July 2011 visit.  Good pre-emptive work JW2!  I remember walking in to quite a young clientele, and smiley young female bar staff who seemed keen to impress but weren't really so comfortable when the subject of cask ale came up.  Can't quite remember the details but something didn't quite go according to plan!  I was most enthralled however by an interesting collection of Live Aid 1985 photos on the wall which must have been taken by someone who was at the front for all the bands - I'd just seen a programme on TV and wondered what it must have been like, Bob Geldof and Bono aside of course!   I remember telling JW2 I personally thought it was, all things considered, a pub worthy of a place in the GBG.  Now Camerons owned I believe, which seems to have been a change for the better.

342.  Prince of Wales, Westbury-on-Trym

Westbury was mine and Dad's Bristol suburb of choice for those Bristol Rovers games after we started using the GBG to help us pick a pub.  It even remained so after Dad read about a brutal murder, which surprised me cos it seemed a place full of poshos.  I'm going to stick my neck out here (not so I can be executed) but because I think my main reason for choosing this was it was an 11am opener on 13th April 2002, before we discovered the brilliant (but presumably no more) Post Office Tavern and it's invisible pizza menu and olympic athlete barmaid.  I digress.  This pub had a welcoming but very well to do feel to it, enhanced by incredibly posh Mum and student daughter demanding lunch just a few tables away, where Newcastle silently played someone in the lunchtime kick off.  The pub was almost too nice and I felt I was too northern and dirty to fit in here!

343.  Pembroke, Old Portsmouth

Friday 19th March 2010 and I'd finished my tour of HMS Victory and 'enjoyed' a pint in the not very pre-emptive Lord Nelson with a nice young chap who was actually a West Ham fan who was in Jimmy Bullard's class at school and loved dressing in a suit when he played Football Manager!  So it was off to get some proper GBG pubs ticked off and first on my list was here, a real old school pub with lots of old men with carrier bags of tripe, old women cackling with one tooth, and aggresive darts players.  I squashed in a corner with a pint of Bass and tried to look relaxed!  The people were nice really, just very characterful.   I must have thought it was ok, for I brought Tom and Dad back here a couple of years later after another HMS Victory walk around.  I think I went for the Greene King Abbot this time, sat even further in the corner, the pub felt very similar, like the type you'd find if you were on shore leave.  Understated but a bit of salty star quality!

344.  Dog & Gun, Aughton

14th September 2013 saw me and Krzb have a very enjoyable day in Ormskirk.  We combined it by geting on a very interesting Metro link which I didn't know existed to Aughton Park, from where we walked to this pub.  Two cosy roomed Marstons, it might have had a certain charm, but the menagerie of animals and birds was ridiculous.  I've never seen so many things flitting and running around a pub, not to mention the donkey in the garden or the rabbits.  I think at the time they were also doing 'light snacks', but who'd eat here?  It smelt unhygenic and the final straw had to be when I reached into the leaflet holder to get a local CAMRA mag.  Not only was it empty but a huge snail was inside!  "Inform your local CAMRA branch if this is empty" said the slogan.  But it technically wasn't empty, so I couldn't tell CAMRA anything!  It was time to leave, after a very quick glimpse of the donkey at the bank.  To be back in the GBG, I can only assume a full fumigation has taken place.

Arriving at the animal-tastic Dog & Gun

345.  Rose & Crown, Blackpool

Well, well.  I never thought this would be a pre pre-emptive BRAPA tick, not in my wildest imagination.  Not even this August just gone when Andy Dunn regaled me with stories of how scientific invention can change the world, whilst Lu rolled her eyes Jig got pegged after I gave a punk permission to do so.  Krzb then pegged me as pay back.  Still, I should have known something was afoot.  For the first time since my first visit here (probably Aug 2007), we were NOT drinking Wells Bombardier from a Polycarbonate glass.  We were in fact drinking a top quality pint of White Witch by Moorhouses.  Still, the word 'BRAPA pre-emptive' was a far from my mind as anything.  Over the years, this pub has almost become the official "punk" pub outside Winter Gardens.  It's normally packed and plays a spirited selection of old and new punk music at all times.  Although it's never been our favourite, it is tradition to come at least once every year (though we didn't in 2014) and has a great hubbub.  My highlights include when they made Lu a great vegan meal from scratch cos she was bored of jacket and beans.  Another good time was when a punk lady took a great photo of all of us on my little lime green camera.  This was when we were winding down, having witnessed the London riots on a TV through the window, we'd been sat in the outdoor area where Pet Shop Boys were being piped into the street.  Don't blame the punx, we were all in Blackpool! 

Lu and Jig enjoy a surprisingly top quality pint in the Rose & Crown!

346.  Pump & Truncheon, Blackpool

And on the other side of the Blackpool coin, "it's about time!" is all I can say about finally seeing this gem back in the GBG, though to be fair standards had slipped around the 2011-13 period and I know because I've had enough pints in here over the years to feel informed enough to say!  It feels strange looking back to say that my first visit was with football in mind, Boxing Day 2004 before Stuart Elliott tore those poor Seasiders apart.  I fell in love with it straight away, with it's strange almost courtroom feel as we sat around the perimeter with bannisters in our way.  On trail were England Cricket team, playing an Ashes test and it felt hard to get passionate about cricket on Boxing Day.  Shame the locals couldn't put the same passion into supporting their football team that day.  It's done us well for football a couple of times since, notably New Years Day 2013 when it won massive brownie points for being open 10am and having three perfectly well kept ales on!  That never happens on NYD.  But it's of course the punk festival I know it best for, having introduced it to my friends the first time we came to the Punk Fest after that 26.12.14 day (2007), it has been our safe-haven, regular pub and we all love it.   Even the harder to please members of the group and believe me, they can be hard to please!  In 2015 especially, I noted an upturn of beer range and quality and with a "punk wedding" on in the background, it felt like it was trying to compete with Rose & Crown for the punk errrm crown.  A toastie, a game of pool, and a listen to the 16 song muscial loop is always a joy.   Wonderful place.

Me, Lisa and Lu - not at all drunk in the Pump, 7.8.15

347.  Buffer Stops, Rawtenstall

27th July 2013 and our annual Welly day out took us to the East Lancs railway.  Some bright spark had learnt of a new pub opening the very day we were there, and I just remember sitting on some very new picnic benches (looked like they'd arrived from B&Q 10 minutes before) right at the bottom of the beer garden (outdoor area) in the summer sun.  Next thing I know, Christine's come back with a round and exclaims she's just been served by no other than Lancs steam train and shit pop music impresario Pete Waterman, who the internet confirms did do the grand opening of this pub on this day though Christine had stalked him sufficiently to get a photo to prove it.  This must be a BRAPA record for visiting a pub after it's opened, though I am determined to beat it one day.  Also probably the most famous person to serve me a BRAPA pint, though again, this will be beaten one day when Super Kevin Francis opens a micro pub in Hednesford.  

Cheers for the ale Pete, but not for the 80's dross! 

348.  Butcher & Beast, Heighington

By the time me and Dad went to watch Hull City away at Lincoln on 9th November 2002, we'd learnt two things.  Firstly, we'd be using the Good Beer Guide to select away match pubs for near on 11 months and we could finally do this for Lincoln.  Secondly, Lincoln away is one of the scariest, aggravational police ridden hooligan ridden places for an away day.  I think these two factors were the reason behind our decision to go to the nearest village to the centre.  I don't remember much about it apart from it being I think black and white beamed, very traditional inside, hanging baskets outside, a bit of food going on, and as it was a Bateman's pub as it is now, was this perhaps my introduction to this famous brewery's ales.  There was still something of a novelty factor pubs of visiting a GBG pub at this time, the standard overall seemed that much higher.  This was never a contender for the 2002/3 pub of the year, but a good one nonetheless.

349.  Blue Bell, Scunthorpe

Now I'm not going to claim that I was ignorant of the 'chain' of Wetherspoons when we visited here on 15th Feb 2003 but it's fair to say we hadn't really done our homework as it felt like Dad's car stumbled upon it more than anything.  No Autoroute map had been made, and I obviously hadn't read the description, so maybe it was more of a "bonus pub" than anything else.  Dad quickly pulled into the large car park with a "ey up, Blue Bell, is this one you wanted?" and I replied with an "errrm I think so".  We both found it a massive bonus to find a pub open to us well before 12 noon and the two bouncers didn't put us off as we pretended to have nothing to do with football (the town had been teeming with a sense of dread, as Scunthorpe often does anyway).  About 20 minutes in as we took our drinks to a raised area to the right of the bar, I read a menu and it twigged "aaaah it's a Wetherspoons, this explains everything".  It probably also explained how the previously empty car park was suddenly a hive of riot police, but they wished us a cheery good bye as we fought our way back to the car, with Dad muttering at them if THIS was really all necessary.  Off to Ashby High St. for a bit of peace and quiet(!)

350.  Magpie, Liverpool Street, London

Me, Dad, Christine and Ben had checked into our respective Travelodge accomodation and enjoyed three wonderful pubs close to the city before two of our group's birthday night on 28th Jan 2009 - the East India Arms being the highlight.   What could possibly go wrong in three words?  Chris Irvin Syndrome - that's what.  This apparently wonderful pub was a bad choice for a midweek night, being so close to Liverpool Street station.  Stressed staff, beers going off, nowhere to sit, dirty plates not cleared away, chaotic food ordering - oh dear, it was almost a blueprint for my forthcoming special BRAPA feature on the 'don'ts' of pubs.  Probably similar to fellow nearby Nicholson's Woodin Shades, I guess it is also a tourist trap but may be best visited 11am on a Saturday, though even this can't guarantee quietness as Woodin showed earlier this year.  I'd like to think it's re-emergence in the Guide proves it's quality, but in Central London even I admit you have to take it with a pinch of salt.

So, on that rather unsavoury note, I will bid you good night until next time (if not next Monday, definitely the one after) where we will be exploring East London, Greater Manchester, Merseyside and many more ......

Si