BRAPA - Sunderland

Inside the Avenue - see pub 801.

It was a long overdue pubby return to the city where I spent my uni years from 1997-2000, just before they started to modernise it with things like a Metro link.

I was joined by two rare BRAPsters, John Watson II (Sunderland's finest, so providing local knowledge) making his first BRAPA outing since June 2014 and Krzb Britain, who specialises in areas just south of York but is a fine navigator.

The trains were a bit delayed but not a bad thing as we'd have only been hanging around til 11am opening time, as we took the Metro from N*wcastle to SSOL (which stands for Sunderland Stadium of Light amazingly) as were soon walking through the Roker area towards the coast.

Despite living here for 3 years, I never really knew this area and was surprised what a nice prom/seafront it was.  Same couldn't 'quite' be said of our first pub.....

799.  Poetic License, Sunderland

We'd been looking for the R Bar (part of the Roker Hotel) but with no signs for it, we walked into the most likely looking place and were greeted by a gaggle of pristine shirted staff who looked like they'd walked out of a Persil challenge ad.  The one with the irritating top-knot on his head told me it was no longer known as the R Bar, and hidden around the corner of the bar were some handpumps, mainly Sonnet which explained the poetic name change.  Like Chester-le-Street's Lambton Worm, this Sonnet 'pub' was geared up for diners (even on a Monday morning in Feb) so we sat on a high stool and I drank an IPA from one of their vase glasses which are annoying.  This isn't Belgian beer.  I like Sonnet ales (especially the Bourbon Milk Stout) but this was a bit lacking in quality, perhaps the pub's fault and watching Football League highlights on a constant loop was sending me into mental turmoil as I started having visions of Joey Barton laughing at me.  Behind some glass was a non-functioning distillery which I'm told should be churning out gin by now.  The place was warm and tried to offer a rustic edge, but ultimately failed.

Krzb and JW2 enjoy a vase of Sonnet at the Poetic License

800.  Harbour View, Sunderland

Just around the corner, it was 'landmark' moment time, with my 800th tick, and a nice one too, with some interesting local grafitti on the wall outside which was to be a theme of our day out.  It looked like your traditional seaside bar, and in my experience, these are usually disappointing, but not here as a friendly young brunette (who may be an early contender for that particular 'award') greeted us and was patient as I took ages choosing from a great range of ales.  I went for a Salopian Lemon Dream, and being brave, didn't ask for a taster.  A few serious old Mackems lined the bar, this was a proper drinkers pub even if it was lacking pub atmosphere.  We sat at the wonkiest table in 2016 BRAPA so far and immediately spilled our drinks, and then our friendly barmaid amused the locals by saying the song currently playing reminded her of "Saturday night at the movies".  Immiediately, the chorus started up "Saturday night at the movies" and she felt a right Charlie!  As if the Roker riviera isn't enough for them, this place tried to add a French feel by naming the toilets 'monsieur' and 'madame' which seemed totally uncalled for, but not to worry, a pub well worth visiting. 

Arriving at the Harbour View

801.  Avenue, Sunderland

Or the @venue as it was hideously titled outside, in fact it looked quite awful from the outside still on the Roker side of the bridge, it was a relief to see it open up into a kind of half Working Man's Club, half airy bar, a bit like a much better version of the Corner Pin in York with some of the best bench seating you'll see, great old Sunderland football memorabilia (we sat underneath Cloughie) but also a pool table and a man with those horrendous hooped earrings giving us evils as I ordered a Chocolate Penny from somewhere obscure in Nottingham which tasted a bit like Bovril!  The barmaid tried to be smiley, but it didn't come as naturally as the last girl looking a bit like she was having a seizure, proof brunettes beat blondes every time.  It was a slow burner this place because the longer I spent here, the more I enjoyed it, a good sign of quality.  One word of caution, the toilet floor was so red in the lunchtime sun, that it looked like I had blood in my urine!  It was that kind of place. 

Trying a Byker Grove opening credits jump at the Avenue.

802.  Butchers Arms, Sunderland

Our longest walk of the day took as back over the bridge, down the side past Panns Bank where I lived in my first Uni year, into an area which had some nice old buildings but a lot of gentrification seemed to have been happening too.  Shame we couldn't have just taken a boat from the Glass Centre, we'd have been there in seconds! I'd heard good things about this pub from it's Clarendon days, and it did have the feel of one of those nice out of the way stand alone pubs, like the Brewers Pride in Osset was the example that sprung to my mind.  Sadly, a complete lack of real ale was to be it's undoing.  The landlord seemed a proper canny Sunderland fellow, friendly enough, saying "no ales on til Wednesday!" no surely this is highly unacceptable and I hope the local CAMRA branch are aware it needs de-guiding swiftly and with style.  JW2 told me about sitting here once drinking ale, watching a live rockabilly band, I could imagine how great that would be, all the more depressing!  Taking further positives, my 6% West Indian Porter was a powerful drink, and the pop videos from 1990 and 1996 offered us much amusement.  We should really have walked straight out, but such a long walk and all needing the loo were reasons we lingered.  It's still a BRAPA tick, I'll just have to incorporate a re-visit into the future  After all, I haven't drunk cask in Ivy House, William Jameson, the Borough, the Royalty etc etc so I still have much unfinished business in Sunderland.  I digress, the toilet was a fascinating disabled closet with what seemed to be a "viewing area" for your friends, and a mop handle to help lock the door.  Quirky.  This pub could have been a gem! 

Silhouetted landlord sits disconsolately alone in his own pub.  No cask ale = no friends.

After the best Gregg's Sausage Roll you will ever find anywhere, we were soon ready for our final pub of the day ......

803.  Dun Cow, Sunderland

In my heritage guide due to the best 'bar back' I've ever seen since the Kingston in Hull (great Mansfield Riding Bitter and Hot Beef Sandwich (RIP)), I was excited about my visit here and it didn't disappoint.  A really friendly and helpful landlord reminded me why I first wanted to go to Uni here (the people of Sunderland on my Open Day) and I gambled on the blackest Saison ever seen, another plus 5% and by now, my drinking speed had slowed considerably and this was one to nurse with it's farmy taste.  Again, the chap admired my "no I don't wanna bloody try before I buy!" hardcore attitude to ale, perhaps.  The pub had great stained glass windowing and was by far the most pubby pub we'd been in all day as the three of us melted into a kind of fuzzy, happy state which meant there was no chance of pushing ourselves to walk to Chesters before the train home.  It actually reminded me I'd also like to visit a heritage pub called the Mountain Daisy in the town but not sure where it is!  

Well, that was more like it.  Time for a MaccyD's and the Grand Central comfort back to York, but don't try and count those table triangles after Saison and West Indies Porter, plus eye spy is difficult in the dark.  No need for York Tap 'injury time', but this was a fine day out and I'm looking forward to my next North East trip already, hope it won't be another year!  

John and Krzb arrive at the Dun Cow for total 5th pint refreshment

I was going to get the South Yorkshire midweek tour up and running today, but it's pancake day and I have a p...p...pancake date at the Green Owl.  But good news, Mr Boilerman (BRAPA Crapper of the Year 2016) might be here at 1pm tomorrow if he's ultra punctual, meaning we may be back on! 

Si 

BRAPA - From Harrogate to Burnley

Arriving at my first pub on Friday evening in Harrogate

Friday nights are probably my least favourite time for a pub night, as the people who go out generally act like it's a once in a life time event for them.  Combine that with a trip to Harrogate, one of the most twee and overrated places in the UK, and the omens weren't good as I boarded the 16:29 slow stopper from Leeds.  The reason for my being here was that I thought I needed to go to watch a band beginning with the letter "D", but as it turned out, I didn't!  (that's a story for another blog).

Always glad to be proved wrong, I ended up really enjoying my first BRAPA Friday evening ......

 

796.  Major Tom's Social, Harrogate

"Ground control to Major Tom" and all that Bowie bollocks (too soon?), I walked past a few quirky spacemen models on the way upstairs and for a minute, I thought this might be real ale's answer to Leeds' now defunct Fab Cafe, with it's wonderful sci-fi atmosphere and terrible Erdinger.  However, whilst Fab Cafe was unashamedly geeky and non pretentious, this place opened up into a welcoming but rather trendy room, the music sounding like it had come from a Brazilian adult movie.  I was not surprised to be served by a young chap with severe beard, tattooed arms and beanie hat.  Meanwhile, a young lady was ordering a warm glass of prosecco and paying very slowly by credit card.  Her boyfriend ordered something keg and American out of the corner of his bearded mouth.  Even my table, with it's warped wood and 2p coins shoved in the cracks seemed to scream "look how cool I am!".  The beer was wonderful, an exciting local range and the 'Pride and Joy' was so nice, £3.60 seemed worth it!  The general feel was unthreatening for a lone drinker to pop in and relax, I couldn't imagine doing that at Friends of Ham, as I sat under some very knowing old fashioned 80's TV's.  Could have easily stayed longer.

Note the warped table at Major Tom's excellent Social,

I then took a train to Knaresborough with mainly very excitable school kids and although I walked totally the wrong way, my next pub was not difficult to find.

797.  Crown, Knaresborough

Not many people visit the lovely market town of Knaresborough with the sole purpose of visiting a Wetherspoons, but then, most people don't dedicate their life to ticking off every pub in the GBG.  Anyway, it didn't look Spoonsie from the outside but that familiar Friday evening gaggle of middle aged noise and much standing around blocking the bar was soon upon me.  The barmaid was a curious creature, very quick to serve me, take my money, subtract 50p for my voucher, she then left my pint ready to top up whilst she went to serve 2 more people.  Surely she'd forgotten about my pint, but she returned with a total "air of the what of it" about 5 minutes later to complete the job!  She's wasted in this role.  Last week, I drank a pint of Broderick's by Daleside in the Cuthbert Broderick in Leeds, and now I was drinking a Daleside Crown in the Crown.  Very suspiciously similar ales too but very good, and better quality here.  A family with a young child (Emily, aged 7 OR 6 who loved her Mum so much she'd got her a "pitcher" - Carlsberg we assume) had just vacated a booth so I was straight in, the locals still happy to stand in the middle of the pub and block the floor space so I felt no guilt!  Emily had dropped two colouring pencils so two elderly chaps came up to me and said "what did we tell you about dropping your pencils you naughty boy!"  'Twas hilarious, even more so when a barman came along to (finally) clean the table and asked if I was using the pencils, but this time with full seriousness.  I joked about not being much of an artist, it was time to find the impossible to find loos (typical Spoons!) and leave. 

'Spoons family fun at the Crown in Knaresborough

I had a bit of a wait for the train back to York so did what any normal person would do and whipped in a quick half lurking outside at the Mitre, another pub not in it's best light on a Friday evening.

Quick half in the rain at the usually excellent Mitre

After a good long sleep, it was Saturday (obviously) and I was back on the tracks for an early start in Burnley's Brun Lea, another Wetherspoons tick for me, though not in the GBG this year and I have certainly had nicer pints of Pendle Witches Brew's in my history of ale drinking - still, it was nice to escape the typical Burnley grey dreary incessant rain and spy on shifty locals out of the window who may or may not have been doing drugs deals with passing cars.

A return trip to Bootleggers (another de-guided pub) reminded Dad that he had been here before.  Just like last time, the barmaid was unresponsive, glued to her mobile phone, there was only one Bank Top ale on this year, and Nigel Pearson's hateful tanned face in large screen on Fletch and Sav with a bit of Glenn Hoddle and Ricky Hatton only added to the sense that here wasn't the best pub in Burnley.  A man with a pushchair and a Farmfoods bag came in for 5 quick pints with his mate, it was that kind of place.

A fair walk followed to our "designated" pub of the day, and the signs weren't good as we met Tom in the pouring rain after 12 to find the pub with lights on and not open!  

This neat pub graffiti sums up how I felt just after 12 noon

Despite the sign, I had a wee against the wall above, Tom urged us to go to the nearby Brittania (which said 'Freehouse' specialising in McEwans lager!) but patience was key and just as we were about to give up, we heard the happy rustling of keys in a lock.

798.  Rifle Volunteer, Burnley

And when the landlady did open (with the kind of disdain for soggy waiting customers that we'd also suffered in Beckwithshaw recently), it was well worth the wait.  You could tell it was classy from the outset, even the urinals were proper old skool, and we took a corner in a fantastic side room and drank some great local ales from Reedley Hallows, especially the Burnley FC themed "No Nay Never".  It looked like things might take a modern turn when landlady said she was "going to put the football on" but this meant the modern day equivalent of Ceefax, so we could happily watch Leicester rack up the goals against Man City.  Tom boosted things by giving us the cheapest bag of mini cheddars ever perhaps (approx 10p a bag, take that Sicklinghall!) and then I discovered Hull City had actually won at Burnley on a Friday night so I did a quiz around that for Tom and Dad, which also entertained the home fans who'd by now come to enjoy this wonderful pub on their doorstep.  Pub of the season contender?  Maybe not quite Nags Head at Loxley but very close.

"Our room" at the Vols.

Well, it was only good etiquette of Hull City to give Burnley 3 points after that, but as Tom and Dad went for the early train, I hung around in the hope of pre-emptive action.

New Brew-M, Burnley

This tiny micropub must be very new because I couldn't even see it on the Micropub website, though I'd identified one called the Beer Shack which was maddeningly closed, so thank goodness for this.  I'd made a bit of a mess finding it so naturally, it was about 3 deep at the bar when I arrived, but the barmaid was one of those totally on the ball "I'll be with you a minute luv after this gentleman" types though one squashy nosed Claret did get served quicker than he should by distracting her with tales of one of the pumps getting stuck.  The ales were ace, Reedley Hallows again plus Hardknott from somewhere near Manchester which I've enjoyed before, so I got a "Brownian Motion" which sounded more like something you'd find in a toilet.  I think the crowd from Knareborough's Crown were here, because despite a very welcoming leather settee, everyone stood up around it rather than on it, so I took my chance and then revealed my Hull City colours in a bid to get a bit of sympathy.  That didn't work but I was just glad to get warmed up out of the freezing Burnley rain which hadn't stopped.

I made the 18:12 back to York, so had a swift half in the York Tap like you do, before Fish & Chips and home.  Despite the defeat and just one GBG tick, a great away day. 

And I'm off work Mon-Wed (wahoo) so expect some bonus BRAPping, though my Wednesday planned North Yorkshire day is cancelled because my boiler broke and the man is coming to look at it making "Boilerman" the first BRAPA Crapper of 2016.  

Si  

BRAPA : January Review / February Preview

The BRAPA Express continues to chug along through the beery landscape, stopping occasionally for fuel at a series of weird and wonderful real ale outlets.  Choo choo!

But I'll stop this lame analogy now to tell you that as part of a new feature of this blog, I'll be doing a brief summary of the previous month and some of the forthcoming events for the new one.

Jan 2016 Review

26 new GBG pubs were achieved, easily eclipsing my target of 15 per month, though in truth, I try and aim for the 22-25 mark in these early days where ticking new pubs is "easier".

I also visited two promising pre-emptive pubs which I am confident will make the GBG in the next two years.

I am nominating three to go onto the shortlist for my eventual pub of the year for when I do my awards ceremony next Jan.  Here they are in no particular order:

1.  Ebor, Bishopthorpe, North Yorks
2.  Red Lion Hotel, Salford, Beds
3.  Graziers, Stanley, West Yorks

Two of those only sold one cask beer on my visit, which means it really was about the pub experience over the beer.

The overall quality of pubs in the month wasn't the best ever encountered, but finishing Bedfordshire and West Yorkshire were great positive steps, and the East London day on 2nd Jan was great.

Feb 2016 Review

Last Feb I only managed 16 new pubs but this time, it could well be edging 30 with loads of plans in place.

We'll start with a Friday night trip to Harrogate/Knaresborough (moved from this Tuesday for gig reasons) and that will be it for my North Yorkshire evening ticking before starting on the South Yorkshire midweek plan.  But hold your horses - I might be able to do some Lancashire / Greater Manc midweek places after work so watch this space.

Also during the week, a Hull City trip to Ipswich will help, though will they do their usual "try and ban away fans from every pub in town?"  Give me Norwich any day!  There's also a winter beezer booked for the North East with two guest BRAPsters, and another possible trip (North Yorks or Merseyside?) still to be confirmed.

Saturday's should be equally productive but Burnley will be a tricky start this Saturday.  A week later sees me implement a new branch of BRAPA called NFFD (Non Football Football Days!  Catchy eh?)  This will be done when Hull City have a hugely unattractive fixture for reasons like high ticket prices, rubbish town, boring place we've done loads, dearth of good pubs etc etc.  Blackburn is a good example so expect to find me on the outskirts of Aspull instead!

Having completed Bedfordshire in January (hurrah, no more Wells Eagle!), I'll be kicking off Berkshire with a trip to the east of the county, and the month ends with a classic Dad Chauffeur Day (DCD?), in either South or North Yorkshire.  I have two ideas in mind for this.

Happy pubbing all!  Let's drink the winter away.

Si

BRAPA : Bury (are you Chiswick in disguise?)

Half time at a snowy Gigg Lane

I was jumping for joy when I saw that Hull City had been drawn away from home against "lower league opposition" in this year's FA Cup 4th round.  After all, it's been a long time since I went to Gigg Lane and in my mind, Bury is your traditional Lancashire town built on black pudding, cotton and friendly old chaps in flat caps.  I was expecting the pubs to reflect this.

793.  Robert Peel, Bury

And it all started well enough in the clamour of a busy early morning Wetherspoons, where the whole town seemed to have to come to shelter from the sideways wind and snow.  I remembered to use my "50p" off vouchers and soon was enjoying a cracking pale ale by Brightside in Radcliffe, which was the tram stop just before this one.  We'd come in via Manchester Piccadilly on the Metro, I hadn't even realised Bury didn't have a regular train service.  Dad's been asking if 'cleanliness' should be considered an important pub factor in my recent pub poll, and the sticky tables and post breakfast crumbs & sauce mean that this pub wouldn't have done well here, especially when an old man behind me swept them off the table into the back of my coat (I would have complained but he looked a bit frail). I've always thought Lancashire was one of the friendliest counties in the UK (Greater Manchester here if you are going by the Good Beer Guide) and a table of Shakers saw my Hull City top and started asking about the game and the masses of fans we were supposedly bringing.  I broke with tradition and declared I was confident of a win so glad that didn't come back to haunt me.  The police then did what they do best on football days, walking into a pub for no reason, looking lost, causing a lull in the atmosphere, and sheepishly leaving as quickly as they arrived.  It was time to go too but only after we declared this "best pint in a Wetherspoon pub for years".

Arriving at the Robert Peel for Spoons based fun.

794.  Automatic Cafe & Malt Real Ale Bar, Bury

A very short walk away, we found this scarily named place like some big clanking metal canteen, with a long thin bar and an echoing cacophony of coffee drinking females just as popular as the 'Spoons we'd just come from.  Dad found a tiny side room which should really have been the snug / the drinkers refuge but this to was light and airy with all tables laid out with knives, forks and serviettes (the latter strangely removed when Tom sat down with our drinks).  Staff were friendly, ales were good with Bury's own Silver Street doing a very warming rum porter perfect on a day like this,  This place made more sense when we realised it was a theatre bar and things took a turn for the worst when a portal to hell opened a load of kids exited from the morning matinee "Adventures with Sam on the Farm" (which as you can see from the pictures below, Dad & Tom unwittingly recreated).  Soon I had a pushchair wheeled into the back of my seat and we were surrounded, and it's fair to say we didn't belong and our presence was not entirely appreciated here.  The local paedophiles may see this as a kind of heaven, but we certainly didn't.  Interestingly, the Good Beer Guide does state "priority may be given to diners at lunchtime".  At least we weren't moved (more on that later!)  We were glad to get out, Tom shouting a hearty "goodbye" at the kids & coffee clones but getting no reply.

Tom thumbs up (playing Sam) and Dad (as Heidi the Hen) at the Automatic

Forget the mystery of the golden egg, what about the mystery of where Bury's old man pubs have gone.

795.  Clarence, Bury

"Oh well", we thought, as we walked the few short paces to our next "pub", "at least things can't be as bad as that!".  WRONG!  The street corner positioning and pub layout suggested a place that was once a no nonsense black pudding eaters boozer.  This was borne out by some placemats celebrating the pubs 110 year heritage, all of which now sadly lost apart from some very snazzy tiled flooring in the gents.   Initial signs were positive, as a friendly bar chap served us some top quality Silver Street ales.  But we thought we'd misheard when he charged us £9.70 for 2 pints and a pint of blackcurrant cordial (tap water, no ice) for Tom.  That is £3.50 for a pint of ale (bad but not unheard of, I live in York!) but £2.70 is the most Tom has ever been charged and he's been drinking blackcurrant with us for over 10 years now (he did get two straws, mind).  In fact, pubs have not charged 1p for this drink on three occasions recently (including in London).   We argued it down to £2.50 but it was little consolation.  We sat down and soon realised we were in a restaurant (and not the McDonald's variety) rather than a pub.  Dad's theory was that they didn't want to know about us drinkers, and had we been dining, Tom's drink would have cost a lot less.  A scary thought but one that resonated.  I shuddered to think what the 1st floor lounge and cocktail bar were like.  Having reached the latter stages of our pints, a nervous looking young barman appeared from the shadows and asked if he could "make a poilte request" i.e. move us for diners.  The cherry on the icing on the shit flavoured Clarence cake!  We pre-empted his request and were off anyway, Dad telling the man who would be claiming our seats to enjoy his "fart arsed ponce burger!"  Tom meanwhile told him the food was rubbish.  It was a good way to exit a truly horrific 'pub' experience.

Pubcurmudgeon writes about the issue of pub diners taking priority over drinkers here, check it out:

 http://pubcurmudgeon.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/what-do-you-think-this-is-pub.html

Nice from the outside - arriving at the Clarence.

We cut our losses after this and made a return visit to the excellent steam orientated railway pub The Trackside Bar.  It was heaving, not only full of Hull City fans but also some dirty  L**ds fans on the way to Bolton trying to avoid the long arm of the law.  Unless they thought Bolton Street meant they were in Bolton and not Bury.  Who can tell with that mob?  An 'orderly' queue was formed at the bar, not very pubby etiquette so I squashed my way in front and soon we were drinking excellent Caveman beers from Kent out on the freezing platform.

Tom & Dad enjoying the cold at Bury's Trackside Bar

We eventually got a seat indoors when the W.S. departed, it was easily the highlight of a traumatic pub day.  The match was a lot of fun, great old ground, nice straightforward win for the Tigers, and post match I nearly went to Whitefield or some new namby pamby place in Manc Victoria station but it didn't quite appeal, with another 'orderly' queue to the bar (is this a new Greater Manchester thing?) and couldn't see any cask.  

Despite everything, I'd have to say that every pint I had today was top quality, and some interesting local breweries on display.  It's enough to make me think "should I be using a "Good Pub Guide" rather than a "Good Beer" one?  But then, I'd probably just moan about poor beer quality all the time!  

Si

BRAPA - Cross Hills (it's near Keighley okay?!)

The kind of toilet door locking fun you'd only get in a micropub.

To say I work in Leeds where everybody has heard of Keighley, no one seemed to have heard of the little ale friendly town of Cross Hills.  My working day went something like this:

"Oooh, do you mean Cross Gates?" "No!" "Oh, bless him, I think he means, Crossflatts, my train stops there!" "Arrrghh, FFS, NO!!"

Although I recently declared West Yorkshire "complete" in pub ticking terms, this felt like a WY night as I boarded the suffocating 16:26 train which didn't help by moving platforms at the last minute.  A rainy windswept walk to Keighley bus station ensued, where I was just in time to board the 66 "across the county boundary stone" (as it was dramatically put to me by one local) into North Yorkshire.

Another wintery walk followed, the smell of silage and countryside hanging in the air as I found my pub tucked away over a bridge in an industrial estate (but easier to find than the Hipperholme equivalent).

This pub had been a bugger to try and visit over the last two years with it's "open only Friday 3-11" policy so I was glad to see extended opening hours in this year's GBG.

Arriving at the Emporium of Delight

792.  Naylor's Beer Emporium, Cross Hills

It's amazing how cosy you can make a little industrial portacabin but I entered to a warm, friendly and welcoming thing where the two Mr Naylor's (one serving, one 'quality control testing') greeted me, asked what beer style I like (errrm, ALL of them) and I was soon enjoying a "Sizzler".  I'm not one for standing/sitting at the bar as I generally find it intimidating and unhelpful but there are times when it is justified, and this was one of them.  So I perched on a stool and managed to get the customary BRAPA explanation out there though they seemed a bit put out when I insisted they were part of North Yorkshire and not West.  I've never been totally won over by Naylor's beers when sampling them elsewhere - even in York's Golden Ball (one of my all time favourite pubs) they've tasted distinctly average, but the Sizzler and my swift half of 1919 were superb.  It started to fill up a bit, an elderly couple ordering pie and peas, even two local chav lads were friendly when they came in and struggled with the concept of peas in any form ("I'm allergic to anything green" one snarled in a half jokey, half "i'm going to murder you" way).  The food smelt amazing and I wish I'd stayed now, but when baby Naylor crawled in and was cooed at by all the locals, I knew it was time to get moving.

Sitting at the bar in Cross Hills

Gallagher's Ale House, Cross Hills

You've got to treat all micropubs as a pre-emptive pub tick in the current climate and this newbie, only open since 18th December, was pretty much opposite my bus stop too so no reason not to go.  It had all the usual hallmarks, a sparse but strangely welcoming and comfy feel,  micro brew pumps lined up helpfully from "light to dark", helpful staff, quirky middle aged locals and a strange upstairs single loo shared with a hypnotherapy place next door (ok, so the last one is a new one on me).  The main problem with Gallagher's was that it was so new, you could still smell the paint, which isn't great when you are trying to enjoy a 4.8% red ale from someone obscure in Bristol.  The barmaid was American, a nice lady who reminded me of slimline Judy Bryant from Prisoner CBH and no, I don't expect any of you to get that reference either.  I phoned Dad to send my birthday wishes, and before I knew it, time had raced on and it was bus time.  I came away feeling the future of ale is bright in Cross Hills. 

Gallagher's in the gloom

I'd been really lucky to get buses with less than 30 seconds wait in both cases, so as fate would have it, I was delayed over 40 minutes in Leeds for a train back to York as we had both "trespassing on the line" AND "a failed train".  My hand was forced so I went for a MaccyD's and could only dream what might have been, with some Naylor's pies & peas!

BRAPA - Posho South West London

Tom, Dad, BRAPA debutant Eddie and a naked lady enjoying a drink & chat (pub 791)

Having left York at 8am, arriving at Kew Gardens tube station approx 10:45am was about as good an outcome as me and Dad could have expected.  We saw Tom lurking on the railway bridge like an underachieving fairytale troll, and I was ready to begin ticking some new pubs in the name of BRAPA.........

Arriving at our first "pub" of the day.

787.  Tap on the Line, Kew 

It's probably not a good sign when I admit that the highlight here was being outside it!  True, it might not look like a pub in any traditional sense but I liked the garden pavilion Victorian style design that probably is supposed to remind you Kew is more famous for pretty flowers than proper pubs.   We entered a pretty soulless bar area where women, pushchairs and families enjoying smoked salmon on toast were the order of the day.  I was suddenly conscious of my Hull City shirt and how much I was dirtying the place.  Initially, I could only see 3 Fullers ales and the Oliver Island was served ridiculously warm.  I'm not a fan of cold beer at all (hence why I drink cask, not keg) but this was like drinking a liquefied human organ.  We later spied some taps at the back of the bar, Tom thought perhaps they were 'hidden' gravity beers which would explain why the GBG said they'd be some guest ales aswell as the Fullers.  We sent Dad to investigate but one taste of a Camden Pale later, I don't think they were gravity, but refreshingly 'cold' (and fizzy) and though I don't believe in conspiracies, I did wonder if this 'pub' serves the cask so warm so you can see the contrast!  

Putting a brave face on it, as I wait for a Gunnersbury train.

We missed a train by seconds so Dad took the above well considered photo, we'll make a David Bailey of him yet, and a few mins later, we were at the next stop up the line, Gunnersbury, a shortish walk to our next pub.  And this pub didn't need inverted commas! 

788.  Old Pack Horse, Chiswick

It was a timely reminder that Fullers own some cracking old buildings, and what impressed me here as it had done in Totternhoe (and others) last year, is that they are very good at keeping their dining areas separate from the drinking areas, so much so that if you stayed in the main bar, you might not even know food existed here.  I only knew because I had to walk into this area looking for the loo, where the bored food staff had nothing to do other than to act as 'toilet directionists' (if that is a job title).  The toilets had two different entrances/exists which I assume is very rare, a BRAPA first I thought but Tom told me the Fat Cat in Sheffield has the same, though I can't remember, the beer there is just too good.  We sat on some rather plush low sunk settees (not usually my choice), a bit of bench seating wouldn't have gone amiss, but it was nice to stare upwards and admire the ornateness over an pint of excellent pint of Adnams Ghost Ship.   

And this pub was an impressive inside and it was outside.

Dad had to go and meet his friend Eddie at a posho eatery in Parsons Green, though he'd done the classic Dad thing of saying "5 mins longer and I could've settled down there for the day!"  But BRAPA stops for no man and me and Tom walked to Chiswick Park tube where we took a short ride to Turnham Green.

789.  George IV, Chiswick

If George the ghost has really been haunting this place since 1777, he must feel he is stuck in a sort of purgatory.  I certainly did, this pub might be old but it made the Tap on the Line seem characterful.  I think the smell of food didn't help, neither did the sterile 'high-table' layout or the boring function room "Boston Room" towards the back which would have been a joyful snug in rural West Yorkshire.  As Tom pointed out, the food smell was set to 'roast dinners' which seemed all the more surprising when you looked at the pretentious menu.  Not even the beer good save it, I went for the Fullers winter seasonal ale, Jack Frost, having enjoyed it's berry flavors on my visit to the Brewery Tap a year ago last week, but on this occasion, the flavours didn't really come through.  Unless you are doing a BRAPA-esque challenge, I wouldn't lose any sleep about not coming here. 

Great pic from Tom, pubs looks ace, but it isn't. 

790.  Tabard, Chiswick

Even closer to Turnham Green station I found my next pub,  We just had time to squeeze another one in before kick off.  This was more like it, I'd actually assumed it was a Fullers pub such was my expectations in the home of the brewery, so I was obviously somewhat perplexed when I saw 4 handpumps, each with two pump clips on each.  Being a great mathematician, I can tell you that is 8 beers and no Fullers in sight!  I know I looked perplexed because an Aussie barmaid (who wasn't currently working like all good Aussies) decided to help, and was very much in favour of me trying to Wimbledon Common Pale, so much so I asked if she had shares in the brewery but such subtle 'humour' went over her head.  She also thought me and Tom had just come from playing football, obviously looking exhausted by our Saturday pub travels to date!  Sadly, time was at a premium by now but we found a delightful little area at the back of the pub with little snuggy areas (and we weren't even in rural West Yorkshire) and nice tiles.  I can see why it is Grade II listed and had I glanced upwards, I might have seen a first floor theatre.  Very good.

Back on form at the Tabard

After a very hard fought win for the Taaargers at the lovely Craven Cottage, we met up with Dad and Eddie and took the tube to South Kensington for a final celebratory 'tick' of the day.

Quite a nice tube station entrance, could be a pub!

791.  Anglesea Arms, South Kensington

The neighbourhood (if you can call it that) seemed as well-heeled as it comes, but lacking in pubs, and off the main road, we found an incredibly busy place with young rah rah types spilling out into the street / smoking area.  The staff (mainly east european barmaids) were on the ball to help us get served in ultra quick fashion in what was once apparently a Charles Dickens local, though a bit like Dick Turpin up here, he probably had about 500 local pubs.  We squashed into a corner at the back where the cutlery and sauces didn't seem to be getting much usage, good I thought, well until we got comfy resting on them and then everyone decided they wanted to order food.  But for the most part, this was a fantastic drinkers pub, tonnes of atomsphere with a friendly feel and proper pub decor.  Not what I was expecting, so always a nice bonus.

After an amusing journey back to Kings Cross on the Piccadilly line where I met the stereotypical 'crazy-don't-make-eye-contact-or-engage-in-conversation' chap, there was still time for a swift half at my pub of the moment Scottish Stores, and once more, I was amazed by it's quality.  It was full of themed 60's hippies, so not sure why the affable barman thought I was "part of their group" unless they all wore 2009 Hull City shirts on their days off!  Anyway, blackcurrant cordial is free and the stout I ordered was absolutely beautiful, one of my pints of 2016 so far and the lack of seat didn't seem to matter much.

Then it was time for an Upper Crust Italian and the 8pm train home surrounded by Newcastle fans.

Si

BRAPA - Bishopthorpe (It's near York!)

When I first got sight of the 2016 GBG at a family barbecue (late Aug/early Sept), one of the first real eye openers was that there was not just one, but TWO Bishopthorpe pubs suddenly in the Guide!  I've only ever seen Bishopthorpe as a place to walk or drive through when you are off to parents house or York college.  Even my sister laughed and said "even I've been to those pubs!"  Oh, the shame.

But it was still nice to get my regular 16:17 train 'home' from L**ds to York, cross the road, hop on the number 11, and before I could blink, I was there.  Easiest Midweek BRAPA trip ever?  Second only to when I realised the Grove in Holbeck existed.

Arriving at the Ebor, first pub I came to on Main Street

785.  Ebor, Bishopthorpe

I had that pleasing conundrum of "left or right" entrance as I walked into this grand looking old coaching style inn.  In 2014, I went "left", in 2015 I went "right", so it only seemed right to go back to the "left" for the new year.  I'm glad I did.  I was immediately hit with a big dose of Sam Smith's pub atmosphere, all calming dark wood, oak panelling, shiny brass and mirrors.  Getting served took an age (had I gone "right" I'd have been okay) but eventually a chirpy young chap in an overly tight shirt got me an OBB.  You could tell you'd left York because (a) it was dirt cheap even by Sam's standards and (b) the locals all smiled and said hello.  One group were loving it so much, they were in fits of hysterics (something to do with farming machinery?) and the laughter was Muttley-esque in the extreme.  I sat at the far end where I'd spied a welcoming fire, it wasn't a cold night but I like staring into flames whilst drinking OBB, it just seems right.  I was soon in a soothing trance, contemplating that although Sam Smith's might not have the best PR team in the world, but by gum they know what a good pub should look like!  And selling just their own products is kind of nice, who wants too much choice?  You only have to think more.  Besides, it'd be weird if they jumped into bed with Beavertown, Brewdog, BAD or Brass Castle.  I was surprised to see food served in here, I'm sure this isn't normal but the grub seemed reassuringly standard fare and not too expensive as an old couple settled down next to me for an 8 oz. rump with a "soft egg",   This pub is even officially haunted according to the GBG, so when the laughing front room group vanished without me noticing, I was a bit freaked out.   But what a wonderful pub, better than all the Sam Smith's in York I think, right up there with the Stockport, Glossop and Thornton Cleveleys efforts.

Perfect winter pub scene at the Ebor

786.  Marcia, Bishopthorpe

Another 'left' or 'right' entrance, oh Bishopthorpe you are really spoiling me(!) but this time, I spent most of the time wondering if the right side was home to a hidden Ebor-esque cosy snug (a trip to the loo told me it wasn't).  I may have been spoiled by the last pub, but it all seemed to light and airy, too many dining tables, and a pointless wall map of York made me wonder if this was a Greene King local hero pub in disguise.  In disguise because the 4 ales were local standards - Roosters Yankee, Tim Taylor Landlord, Treboom Yorkshire Sparkle and Leeds Pale.  All good "on their day" (well, apart from the Sparkle) so I went Yankee and quality was superb, I felt like it was 2004 Hole in the Wall on Hull's Spring Bank again!  The young bar chap seemed distracted by something he'd seen through the window, so it was no big surprise when he forgot to give me change out of a fiver.  The problem was rectified but the main 'boss man', a jolly rotund chap who screamed authority (not literally) seemed unimpressed with his staff and he kept criticising them, eventually singing "the wheels on the bus go round and round" loudly from the cellar, claiming he'd treat them like kids if they behaved like kids.   So I decided joining in with "the barmaids on the bus go chatter, chatter, chatter" might not help.  

Great Yankee, aggro sing songs - at the Marcia.

The bus arrived on time (when I finally realised I was stood at a bus stop, I think Bedfordshire had scarred me on Saturday) and without sounding like a total bus geek, I found the trip back fascinating with a choice of where to get off, I chose opposite my sister's street to remind me that a year ago, midweek BRAPA was on hold whilst I looked after her cat and was making this same walk home on a nightly basis.  Fitting.  

Coming Up Next

So two more North Yorks nights still to come, next week is Cross Hills near Keighley so it will probably feel like West Yorkshire,  It'll have to be Wednesday though because neither pub, Naylor's Brewing place or the new pre-emptive Micro open on a Tuesday!  I could also consider the pub that was in the GBG 2015 but there's obviously a reason it has been de-guided so probably won't bother.

But before that, it is London again and we'll be ploughing the furrows of the District line this time before a trip to the least threatening away ground in the football league.

Si