BRAPA - Charlton away (a Hull City day)

Putting a brave face in it - an unlucky transport day in South London

The plan was simple.  Travel down to London,  Get across London.  Get four pre-match BRAPA ticks in, watch Hull City not be rubbish and then get a sneaky one or two extra ticks in on the way back to Kings Cross.  

But of course, you cannot control train delays & cancellations.  Pre-match problems at Westcombe Park and post-match problems at Maze Hill meant BRAPA suffered.  We were ultra unlucky, on both occasions we had missed a perfectly good running train by seconds.  Never mind, it's not like we won't be back in this part of the world next season, in all probability.  

Arriving at the amazing Black Friar at 10:15am

736.  Black Friar, Blackfriars, Central London

And the day all started so well as the temperature started to soar, we reached our 'early opener' shortly after 10am to find Tom already there.  I'd been very excited about this pub having read about it in my Heritage guide, and it didn't disappoint.  Wood carved figures?  Romanesque marble gold leaf ceiling decor?  Just your run-of-the-mill pub really(!)  The Spanish barman was very friendly too as I ordered a 'tea' based beer which was an acquired taste, but I just about liked.  He told me it was a marmite beer, but he meant you'd love it or hate it, not that it was dark and vegetable extract.  What did surprise me was that this is a Nicholson's pub, and surely the jewel in their crown though I have admittedly been in some great old examples of their pubs,  None as good as this however. There was a large seating area at the side with lots of people eating breakfasts in the sun, it felt all very European and a far cry from the Dog & Gun at Wolverhampton.  I explored the area reserved for dining and it was even more ornate, and I didn't care at all that I looked a total pub tourist.

Me in triplicate at heritage pub classic, the Black Friar

We then walked to Cannon Street, where we took a train to London Bridge, changed, got on one to Westcombe Park, and a few minutes walk later, we were at our next pub.....

737.  Royal Standard, Blackheath

And as I took my obligatory blog pub photo and waited for Tom and Dad to catch me up, I was surprised to find the gaggle of bar babes only just opening the pub.  11am in the GBG, 12 noon in reality.  A faux pas by me as I should have checked Whatpub and the GBG amendments website, so we were lucky to arrive bang on 12 noon.  Our luck wouldn't last.  But for now, it did, as we entered a pub I'd describe as typically London.  Clean, modern, bare boarded, trying to be rustic or shabby chic, possibly even a bit hipster, but in the end lacking a bit of charm and atmosphere, though not much to complain about.  My Tim Taylor's Boltmaker (served in the type of pint glass I detest) was actually my favourite pint of the day.  The beer range though was so scarily in line with a Nicholson's pub, especially the Black Friar, it was impossible to think that this WASN'T a Nicholson's itself but the layout, food menu, opening times, and general feel suggested otherwise.  Still, quite a good pub whilst symptomatic of why London isn't my favourite place to BRAPA tick.

A random man walks away from the still shut Royal Standard, 1159am!

Things then got tricky as train cancellations at Westcombe Park meant we cut our losses and went to the Valley ridiculously early for a diet of Bulmers and Fosters shite.  The Valley's bar was not, shall we say, treated as a pre-emptive tick in any way!  Even the staff were rude.  Then Hull City were rubbish, and the post-match plan was to pick up the two pubs we didn't get to pre-match.....

738.  Pelton Arms, East Greenwich

Ben had actually made it here pre-match and his assessment was accurate, and fairly glowing.  It looked great from the outside (see below) and it had a very 'real' happy community feel within, this was certainly above average London by my standards.  It was so hot, sitting inside was a good idea and a pint of Brentwood Best was most welcome in the 30 degree heat.  There was a nice outdoor area, but full of smokers in this heat, Dad rightly discouraged the idea.  Again, the staff were really friendly and good.  The barman who served me was a Charlton fan so I had to relive the agony for his benefit, but managed to mention that they were a bunch of soft southerners who caused their own injury time.  One slight gripe was the range of beer.  It was vast but so many were bog standard, it seemed a shame they hadn't gone with a more adventurous style, i.e. at least one stout or porter.  Meanwhile, Tom was rightly unhappy to find bubbles (not Michael Jackson's monkey) in his blackcurrant.  If we were suffering with the heat, I felt sorry for a bulldog just across from us who was sucking on a water bottle having finished his bowl.  Uncannily as soon as we mentioned his potential for "BRAPA pub pet of the year", he wandered towards us to try and endear himself.  Sadly, the BRAPA code of conduct looks unfavourably on such showboating behaviour!  But a good effort all the same.

Pelton Arms - a very good pub at East Greenwich

Trying to get the final pub 'tick' in at Deptford may have been tough anyway, but further train delays at Maze Hill meant we again cut or losses and headed back for Kings Cross, where there was time to be accosted by un merry Millers, have a swift half in Parcel Yard, and get a pasty and juice for the journey back.

Despite the various unlucky traumas, this was still a classic example of a good football day out combined with a side portion of BRAPA.

Coming Soon

"One Month Reverse Owl syndrome" (see the glossary if this makes no sense to you) is just about kicking in now, with the 2016 GBG potentially just over a week away.  One slight concern is that CAMRA haven't debited my account with the £10 I was expecting as part of the Privilege Scheme to get it on the day of publication, and I don't want another two weeks of groping around in the dark (see my trip to Oxford last year).

Just when I thought I'd get West Yorkshire finished on Tuesday with a trip to Wetherby, Dad throws in a Rochdale shaped curve-ball and it looks like the New Adelphi Club in Hull is now the midweek tick.  And this means that East Yorks will be finished first!  Or will extra time and pens scupper it?

Next Saturday is my 'North of York' crawl, which will require a bit of careful planning but I am confident I can do the five that I want.  Of course, there is always additional Cross Hills potential on Friday but I may leave this until Sept 4th to celebrate getting my work project done!  But with it being that tricky BRAPA time of year with the GBG changeover, I'm not setting much in stone at the moment.  Exciting times.

Si  

BRAPA : Archives (281-290)

It's off to bonny, bonny Scotland we go.  A place I'd love to go BRAPA ticking in a lot more often and my recent trip to Aberdeen set all sorts of ideas going in my mind.  But for now, I'll just have to reminisce.......

281.  Abbotsford Bar & Restaurant, Edinburgh

I recently told John Watson that any place with "restaurant" in the name cannot be trusted to keep good real ale, although here, it's dispensed by the traditional gravity method (i.e. from the barrel) that used to be common in Scotland.  I was on my way to Inverness for a random trip (like BRAPA pre-BRAPA, like A-Z mid A-Z but not my "I") and had an hour plus to change in Edinburgh for lunch and "refreshment".  This was also an "OMG Si!" pub in that I had been recommended it by quite a few people I knew.  I entered a beautiful old room with a big circular bar and just a few seats around it, more typically Scottish than Nessie drinking Irn Bru whilst telling a Billy Connolly joke.   Unfortunately, office workers having lunch meant all tables were taken and even finding a suitable stool at the bar meant I was resting on some staff paperwork which looked highly important.  I had an Oakham Bishop's Farewell, the gravity dispense meant it felt a bit "limp beer festival" to me but it was a big moment - my first Untappd check in!  My Facebook replacement.  So I was over generous,

Perching precariously on the bar at Abbotsford, 12:43pm 24/9/13

282.  Blue Blazer, Edinburgh

Pre-BRAPA, one of my main challenges from about 2009-12 at least was to try and tick off every Scottish league ground, a challenge that has since had to be put on hold.  At it's height (3rd March 2012), me and John Watson arrived in Edinburgh and a grey rainy morning for some pre-match drinks ahead of a train ride to Croy to see Clyde v Montrose, possibly the worst quality football match I have ever witnessed (and I support Hull City) but it was 9th v 8th in Scottish bottom division.  I digress.  This was our first pub of the day and an absolute corker.  Lovely old simple one roomer with a blue blazer mosaic on the floor and friendly bar chap was dressed in a suit (possibly a blur blazer too) and it was when we saw the selection of Scottish ales that we finally put to bed the myth "Scotland doesn't do real ale" which seems a ridiculous thing to say now anyway.  Okay, so the loos were a bit "Ten Bells" in Whitechapel but added character I'd say. 

283.  Bow Bar, Edinburgh

Still 3rd March 2012 and me & John Watson headed back to Waverley station via the Halfway House and firstly, this little famous pub, which had quite an old touristy reputation and it suffered from that on our visit.  Well, we suffered.  Luckily, an army of young staff were working as hard as they could, just as well as hoards of Japanese schoolgirls in Jimmy hats, tartan and sporrans kept piling in, whilst Americans tried to look like they knew what they were doing and a couple of grizzly Canadians scowled at everyone, whilst a table from New Zealand tried to show off because they were actually from the southern hemisphere.  It was enough to drive a man insane, but John is cool in such situations as I fought my way back with two pints, he'd done really well to squeeze in to a tiny thin table between some cackling hens and excitable Japanese.  Table was so small, we barely both had room to put our pints down, but I can remember yet another cracking Scottish microbrewery showcase, some interesting looking pub snacks, and lots of laughter.  It was all a bit too much for an old pub man like me! 

John tries (unconvincingly) to look relaxed in a heaving Bow Bar

284.  Cafe Royal, Edinburgh

Post match now on 3rd March 2012 and with bouncers(!) on the Guildford, we opted for the bouncer free Cafe Royal, quite a famous pub for being huge, historic, cultural and apparently having artwork by John Eyre on the walls.  Plus it has one, if not the, longest bar in Britain along with the Falcon at Clapham Junction which I know well.  Like so many pubs of this ilk, we couldn't really find a seat or settle down but unlike Bow Bar, we were fuzzy and relaxed from the horrendous match and scary walk from Broadwood Stadium back to Croy.  Yes, the pub was impressive, we had some good Scottish beers again (but probably not quite the range of the previous two pubs).  It must have had quite a lot of seafood going on cos it hung in the air, plus lots of smart staff with crisp white shirts kept darting past us with shiny plates of stuff.  So not a classic, but a nice woman did at least volunteer to take a nice picture of us both together, aaaaah.

Me & Watters in Cafe Royal - might be better visiting before lunch.

285.  Jolly Judge, Edinburgh

Y had been for Yoker, X had been for eXhibition Centre as my A-Z adventure drew to a close on 1st March 2014, and I'd just woken up with dribble on my chin, having fallen asleep on the train between Glasgow and Edinburgh.  It had been a good afternoon in Glasgow.  I had time to try one new pub before the train, so I came to this little underground place very near Waverley, not far from Bow Bar and Halfway House (I still managed to get lost!)  Drama on entry as I was told by an excitable barmaid that a private party had hired the pub in half an hour so it'd be closed to the public.  I explained that I had exactly half an hour here before my train, so I was allowed to stay.  My Inveralmond Lia Fail was chosen by me because of Hull City's epic fail (see pub 290 for more info), but I enjoyed it immensely as person after person wandered in only to told to clear off due to the private party, making me the last customer.  Lovely subdued atmosphere.  No wonder I recommended it to Dad for a recent Pensions trip.  Incidentally, this was the fifth last time I visited a new pub which I didn't classify as a BRAPA tick.

Little did I know that messing around over this photo nearly cost me a pint!

286.  Babbity Bowster, Glasgow

10th Oct 2009 and another one of my Scottish lower league ground ticks was Hampden Park, where me and Krzb Britain went to watch Queens Park lose 2-1 at home to Stranraer in the last minute in front of 598 fans (spookily, Berwick had lost 1-2 at home in the last minute on my visit there and Clyde v Montrose also finished 1-2).  "Come on you Spiders!" as the scary man next to me shouted once every 15 minutes.  Before that, we went to sample some new pubs in Glasgow and found ourselves in the well-to-do Merchant City area where life expectancy is really high, at least 45 years old.  I'm joking.  It's only 43.  Anyway, I didn't really "get" this place, what was it supposed to be.  It had two interesting ales on, at extortionate prices, the interior looked like some single woman's front room though it went round a corner to create a pubby feel.  Beer was very nice but I really didn't feel like I was in a drinkers place, staff seemed bored and pre-occupied, no-one else really came in to have drink and sit down, it was all a bit of a weird one.  

287.  Blackfriars, Glasgow

Same day, same part of the city as the above and this was much more like what we were expecting / hoping for from our trip.  It seemed to be a multi-cultural young person's bar with gig posters everywhere and a very basic boarded feel and rock music playing.  It was in the days before hipsters, so we had to be content with the barmaid's black nail varnish and piercings, and the hairy barman's crazy earrings that hung down too far.  A good range of ales too, some English but mainly Scottish I seem to recall, with woodchip on the wall (perhaps), a bit of a cross between Moorings in Aberdeen and the John Duck in Durham.  I can't say any more than that.

288.  Bon Accord, Glasgow

1st March 2014 and having completed Yoker and Exhibtion Centre in my X & Y A-Z Challenge, I was walking eastwards back into Glasgow, picking up pubs along the way.  The first I reached was this pretty derelict looking old building with a mountain of motorbikes outside, but I'd walked in through the back so presumably the front was more picturesque.  Presumably, because this was a very good pub.  The dark haired barmaid was brilliant throughout, and when I said "no, I was having food" she looked so sorry for me, like I was an urchin dressed in rags spending his last change on beer.  My pint of Bonnie n Blonde by Loch Lomond was nice & zesty, slipping down easily as I watched an awkward couple having their first date, rather amusing.  This was better entertainment than watching L**ds United, who'd inexplicably been screened in place of Rangers v East Fife, but maybe if this was the same Bon Accord who lost 36-0 to Arbroath, they have a "no Scottish football policy".  Of all the pubs I've recommended to Dad and his friend when they go to Glasgow for pension meetings, this has produced the most positive response.

Pub toilet backing for the Bon Accord

289.  Drum & Monkey, Glasgow

My penultimate Glasgow tick of 1st March 2014's wonderful A-Z day saw me at this incredibly chaotic central Nicholson's not far from the main railway station.  Dad had initially recommended this to me on the strength of a quality Oakham Citra in quiet surroundings but had since found most beers off, similar chaos I was experiencing, and had revised his opinion!  This was the first pub of the day where I couldn't find a Scottish real ale, and my Longitude by Vale Brewery was brown and average.  It was standing room only, and even finding somewhere to rest my beer was a problem.  But not as much of a problem as finding the toilets!  I walked around the typically Scottish circular bar about three times, and on my third lap, found a tourist chap doing the same.  We went in search, he waved to indicate he'd found them down a narrow staircase at the entrance.  But then, a member of staff asked if I was alright and I replied "I'm just following that man to the toilets!" which to this day is still one of the most embarrassing things I've said in a pub, luckily I explained myself and was quite drunk so actually not too embarrassed at the time.  Oh well, I figured, I'll never be back.

English brown ale and toilet troubles at the Drum & Monkey

290.  Horse Shoe, Glasgow

And after that Drum & Monkey trauma, I ended my Glasgow time in this equally busy but much better pub, in my heritage guide and having supposedly the longest bar counter in the country, I didn't have much time to appreciate the fine interior though I remember admiring a mirror at one point.  My Glasgow work friend Katrena tells me she's barred from here for dancing on a table, quite an achievement looking at how old and fragile most of them looked!  I was back on the Scottish ales, staff and locals were all in full Saturday afternoon swing but as I turned to see the Sky Sports News screen, it popped up Hull City 1-4 Newcastle.  I must have said something, but I didn't have time to wallow in self-pity as an angry Glasgow man told me he had money on us to win and I was (personally!) ruining his accumulator.  I told him he shouldn't be silly enough to back Hull City ever, but this didn't make him feel better.  It was time to slink away from the bar, so I asked a friendlier looking couple from Paisley if I could share a table with them.  With BRAPA all but officially started by March '14, they were telling me how friendly and amazing Paisley's pubs were and how it would be a great trip for me, we also talked about supporting rubbish football teams but they didn't believe me when I said St Mirren could easily beat us!  A really good pub experience.

And there we have it!  Ten more pubs reviewed.  Join me next time as we approach the big 3-0-0 by finishing up in Scotland before edging into our final archives county, West Yorkshire.

Si

BRAPA - Wolverhampton

After a much less painful cross-country train to Wolverhampton via Birmingham (me and Dad found Tom at Dudley Port), we arrived just after 10am for one of those classic "bought train tickets in advance but then evil Sky Murdoch empire moved the game but didn't want to waste train tickets so went anyway" scenarios.  Good news for BRAPA of course, as it allowed us to do the kind of 'out of town' pubs you simply wouldn't have time for on a match day.  We did start central however .....

731.  Hog's Head, Wolverhampton

I love that feeling of going into that first pub of the day, at an anti-social drinking hour with the sun shining, the birds singing, that stale pub morning smell, and the pub not really ready for customers.  Tom and Dad felt that this place had all the hallmarks of a Wetherspoons, and whilst it was obviously part of a chain, the range and quality of local ales told you it was a step above.  The plan had been for a breakfast here but my fruit bread n cheese had done the trick, so i cannot review the food.  We sat in a raised area (it was a huge pub anyway) and you only imagine how busy and grimy this place might get post-match due to Molineux proximity.  I won the inadvertant quiz "guess what Tom's scribblings on an envelope mean", and then I noticed Simon was hosting a quiz on Thursday anyway.  The toilets were in a state of disrepair with sinks and urinals hanging off the walls, and a ladder in a cubicle.  My Dandelion and Burdock themed porter lacked D&B flavour but was still very good.  Barmaid and other staff seemed relatively friendly (one even said "hi" unprompted) in a town that's not the most hospitable in the West Midlands.  A solid start to the day's proceedings.

Me and Tom ready to get BRAPA ticking at the Hog's Head

We then walked past Molineux into a suburb of Wolverhampton called (Theo) Whitmore Reans which even in daylight, is one of the most intimidating places on earth.  It made Leytonstone, Wakefield, Thornton Heath and Salford seem like the Planet Cute.  I'm sure we witnessed a car being broken into on the main road in full view of everyone!

732.  Stile Inn, Wolverhampton

And what a crazy, rough diamond of a pub this was, in-keeping with the area but brilliant at the same time.  We entered one of those gold old fashioned West Midlands pubs (those with corridors and different rooms) where the excellent red haired landlady was presiding over three crazy gents - one signing punk hits of the 70's to himself - and our presence must have been incredibly alien.  But then, surely they get away fans on matchdays?  Landlady excelled herself by firstly asking if we were CAMRA members so we could get a discount, she also mentioned a Cask Marque scheme we could get stamps on, she ate a bowl of tomatoes (not sure why but this helped her greatness), mentioned how the beer cooler had broken and were our pints alright (they were) and sold Tom a filled roll having asked if he was our designated driver due to his blackcurrant leanings.  Beer was cheap, you could get 5 pints of Harvest Pale for £10 (a stunning offer).  I went to the loo and noticed an L shaped bowling green out the back - this pub was full of surprises!  We had to be shuffled along slightly to make way for the biggest most elaborate Karaoke equipment which was being set up in readiness for later - the man even said I could test it out for them - I politely declined!  The Karaoke incident unnerved Dad a bit but as Tom said, this is exactly the kind of thing you'd expect to encounter in a real, proper pub like this.  Wonderful stuff.

Bowling green out the back of the Stile

733.  Newhampton, Wolverhampton

Still in Whitmore Reans but on a nicer side road, we found a pub which was virtually The Stile but with a few of the rough edges polished off.  I really could leave the description at that.  Honestly, you go to 730 BRAPA pubs without seeing a bowling green, and then you get two in two!  We entered a main bar but quite busy and with limited space, so we moved to a side room showing Southampton v Everton on a huge screen.  I came to the conclusion this was NOT the same "mystery Wolverhampton pub" I'd been to when Jay Jay Okocha starred in a Hull City evening win (more on that later).  This had way too loud commentary and was detracting from the pub's true essence, so we moved outside to a glorious beer garden alongside the bowling green with plants, flowers, an apple tree, a pear tree, a plum tree AND a set of stocks - presumably so you can throw rotten fruit off the trees at your friends / enemies.  The beer was great, from Three Tuns in Shropshire.  Dad was raving about it which slightly surprised me because I picked up the element of sweetness which has blighted his 2015 ale drinking.  But yes, it was a cut above anything else we'd had so far.  Although Dad indicated he was happy to stay here for the day, I had to read him the BRAPA riot act for there was much to do .....

A glorious pint of Three Tuns Pale Ale, just ask Dad!

Dad was already thinking about his train home so I felt a bit bad making him walk 1.7 miles into Tettenhall (I didn't realise he was on an open ticket at this stage) for our next leg of the Wolverhampton suburbs crawl.  I walked 1.8 miles, having missed the pub and had to be "hailed" back!

734.  Hail to the Ale, Wolverhampton

I'm getting the hang of these micro pubs now, and I generally like what I see though a few things concern me.  A lot aren't actually that small (this was almost as big as Hereford's 'Beer in Hand'), they seem to have a problem stocking blackcurrant cordial (poor Tom had to have water), they have limited and often unisex toilets, they have good staff who know their stuff, and a clientele which is 30 or 40 somethings discerning middle class drinkers.  Beer range and quality was as good as anything we had all day, and still feeling sorry for Dad, I volunteered to swap my excellent pale for the not quite as good but still enjoyable "Snapshot" by the ever reliable Burton Bridge.  There was also a bit too much "dog loving" going on which always irritates me a bit.  Give me a pub cat love in any day.  Dad must have been building up Dutch Courage as he unwisely revealed to Tom the true extent of his ticketing complications (if I'm being polite) and to see Tom so visibly shaken was certainly one of the highlights in a great day.  I liked this place a lot, and would recommend the long walk.  

I'm no Al Murray fan but "cheers to beers, hail to ale" anyway!

Still in Tettenhall but "over t'other side", me & Tom strode out here with Dad having gone for his earlier train back than the one we were on. How lucky he was!

735.  Dog & Gun, Wolverhampton

Oh dear.  Oh dear.  Oh dear.  Oh dear.  11 months plus since the last GBG publication, and the risks of encountering a bit of a dud are growing by the day, but this was NOT good.  It started worryingly as it took me about 7 minutes to locate a member of staff to serve me.  And this was in a busy sterile Ember Inn with quite a few diners and drinkers milling about.  And then the barmaid that did arrive had an underlying aggression about her which stopped me asking if the sign "the beer is settling in the cellar" really did mean "not yet available".  I prefer Wetherspoons more honest approach, but why even have the pumps showing AT ALL?  This made a range of 5 standard ales into a range of 2 standard ales.  No disputing the quality of my Brakspear (which had only just come back on itself) but just not my favourite tipple.  We went to sit outside in the large seating area to the side of the pub, not a beer garden but smartly done.  Two nacho girls pretty much "moved house" just so they could sit in the remaining slither of sun, but then the fun really started.  A man who was with his girlfriend was "grabbed by the throat" by a thuggish looking member of staff.  What sparked this I cannot say but watching the drama, you did tend to come down on the side of the couple, who clearly weren't as aggressive as the staff, now joined by my barmaid and another one.  Rather than trying to calm things down or stop a scene being created, they were simply there to defend the assailant and argue with the couple.  Tom may even have heard the assailant telling the couple "I'll firebomb your house!"  It was a very unsavoury incident and the pub should be ashamed.  Good entertainment though.

Drama about to unfurl at the Dog & Gun.

A long walk back towards town followed, I was dying for a wee so what good luck not only to stumble upon pub, but another GBG tick, and what's more, the Combermere Arms which I "must" have visited on that "winning at Wolves" evening many moons ago.  

736.  Combermere Arms, Wolverhampton

Alas, it was NOT the pub in question so as Tom had predicted, I'd been to a totally different one on Okocha night.  Oh well!  This was a fantastic pub of tiny little rooms with the friendliest vibe we'd encountered all day, a nice note to end on.  As Tom said, you could really see how this had once been someone's house, so nice for once to see the walls not knocked through.  We sat in a side room as a drank my half of "Gravity" (cannot trace the brewer or exact name but was on in Hog's Head too), and had some brief chatter with the other people in the room.  There was even a tree growing in the Gents for heaven's sake.  A great pub worthy of more attention.  Might get another half in next time I'm back here just to show my gratitude.

From the camera of a Tom - me outside friendly Combermere

So, I must declare I'm back on pub number 735 and delete the phantom pub I reviewed in the archives as either Newhampton or Combermere.  Chindit?  Well, still six Wolverhampton pubs to do but only one of them way out of town now so a useful and fun BRAPA day.  Let's hope we play them next season, as I see we have just drawn 1-1.  Wonder what Hog's Head is like about now?  

Midweek BRAPA will probably be more like end of week BRAPA as I'm thinking how to organise a chaotic first week back at work.  And then Charlton next Saturday!

Si

BRAPA - Colton / Wintersett / North Cave

Encouraging people to steal the glasses?  That's a new one on me! (pub 728)

As if BRAPA wasn't a near impossible undertaking (I invented the rules so can't complain too much), strange opening times in rural areas really are the bane of my mission, though I guess it adds extra excitement to my trips.

I actually made a schoolboy BRAPA error on the Wednesday, totally forgetting this pub closes 3pm until 6pm on weekdays.  After the rigours of Accrington (lazy me) , I wasn't ready in time for the 11:10 bus so got the 13:10 from York station, it was delayed by 10 minutes, the driver hadn't done the route before, still found time to stop at Tesco for a breather, before missing the turning for Colton altogether but a local luckily guided him.  It was an interesting journey through York though, areas I don't know like Acaster Malbis, South Bank, Appleton Roebuck.

728.  Old Sun Inn, Colton

I was expecting some gastropub monstrosity so was delighted to find a very low ceilinged atmospheric two roomer with a real 17th century vibe.  If Oliver Cromwell had walked through a wall, I wouldn't have been massively surprised.  Four semi-friendly local men were at the bar, and the staff were excellent with the blonder barmaid even calling me "sir" as I ordered a fantastic 'Journeyman' from Collinson brewery.  I might demand to be called "sir" in every BRAPA pub.  The ale was much better than any I had in Accrington as I shunned the historic interior for some literal fun in the sun at the front of the pub - I later noticed a huge garden round the back as well.

At 2:45pm, I suddenly realised that the pub closing soon (or 2:30 according to the pub sign) so with my bus not til 4, I went in to ask if I could sit out with a "swift half" as they once allowed me and Dad to do at Stillingfleet's Cross Keys.  I could see no staff.  But then, the nice brunette Eastern European proceeded to lock the front bar so I said "boo!" and made her jump out of her skin, before explaining she'd already answered my question.  With hindsight, I should have pretended to be a 17th century ghost and made her serve me or else I'd haunt her.

With the door bolted behind me (on the outside this time), two young lads on bikes turned up so I delighted in telling them it had just closed.  They asked if I owned the pub, again I wish I'd been quicker and said "yes but we've closed it due to ghostly activity".  I tried to help them find another pub in the locality but they seemed to think everywhere nearby was closed, so I went for a countryside walk towards Copmanthorpe, had my drink & sandwich, and caught the (delayed) 4pm bus back to York.

Ghostly fun in the sun at the Old Sun Inn, Colton

Thursday dawned grey and overcast, a weather type that suits a midweek Wakefield.  Learning lessons from yesterday, I set off earlier today knowing again, today' designated pub also shuts at 3pm.  However, my train was delayed from York (only 6 mins but enough to put pressure on my connection) so I made a late Leeds to Kirkgate instead, and still narrowly missed my bus.  Another one was just around the corner, 15 mins in fact, so no great hardship.

What was a hardship was a deaf bus driver how didn't hear the bell go "ding" when I pressed it, it lit up so I knew and sure I pressed it well in time, maybe he did it on purpose for I was stood up for ages before I eventually asked him - and a three minute walk became a 15 minute one, so I was not in a good mood by the time I reached this celebrated pub!

729.  Anglers Retreat, Wintersett

My mood wasn't helped further as the four locals sat outside stared at me, apparently they've not seen someone in green combat shorts, yellow shoes and punk jacket before.  My look hadn't made any eyelids bat in York, Leeds, Accrington or Blackpool, but this was a real American Werewolf in London experience.  Four further oldies were at the bar with a young lad blocking it and debating whether "Malton is a marmite town", and one of them explained his dodgy shoulder socket in great detail.  The bald landlord I recongised from a CAMRA award picture was a genial chap, and he served me a cracking pint of Acorn Blonde.  I wanted to sit in the main, small, dark bar as it looked atmospheric but the young lad and his Dad blocked my path accidentally at that moment, I didn't want to go back outside, so I went to a large empty side room.  The decor captured the surroundings, pictures of birds of prey, farmers of old, horses and local landscapes, whilst the pub had a lovely old wood burnery smell, relaxing and olde worlde.  Only a radio station spoiled the calm and there was plenty of chatter from the bar and outside, a good atmosphere for a rural pub on a Thursday lunchtime.  I found out there was a Heronary near by, where I assume people go to specialise in Herons.  In keeping with the recent theme, there were some eggs on the bar, not pickled, I thought about taking some but couldn't see how paying for them worked or how I'd get them home unsquashed.  This was obviously a very good pub, but the sad thing is, it really could have been great.

Anglers Retreat - almost a classic, but I would go back!

Amazingly, my bus showed up on time and took me back to Wakefield (though with the journey here and Cloughton Newlands in mind, I pretty much lay down on the road just to make sure).

Wakefield was full of down and outs, which I hadn't noticed on my previous two visits, so I didn't hang around (a new Marston's called the Ruddy Duck didn't look worthy enough), and I was back in York for a late lunch.  Only one more West Yorkshire tick remaining!

Big credit to Mum and Dad for the commitment to BRAPA (see pub 730)

11th hour drama before my planned BRAPA (I mean "walking") trip to North & South Cave with Mum and Dad on the Friday.  I noticed on the always reliable Whatpub website that this pub was now open only at 4pm every day.  Sure, their own website and facebook page said 12 noon, as did most other sites, but none had been updated since 2013.  See what I am up against?  I phoned them 10am but no answer on three occasions.

It was time to think "out of the box" in a Jake Livermore kind of way, so in my slumber, I devised a plan to go to Fox & Coney in South Cave for lunch, do the walk, then do White Hart at 4pm.  It worked (almost perfectly).

Whether you could call Fox & Coney a pre-emptive tick is open to debate.  In my eyes, it is early days having had a re-vamp in early 2015 but the beer quality of mine and Dad's Crystal Jade from Brough (re-badged for the pub as "Coney Ale") left a bit to be desired.  Not bad, just limp.  Mum reported her lemonade was not so great either, and she may do a special lemonade blog to rival BRAPA!  Barmaid was a friendly, young, high-pitched squeaky character, good personality and she deserved her tip.  We ordered soup of the day and bread - very nice but very spicy and thick tomato.  It becomes a bit 'gastro' further back, but the front bar was popular and kept a proper atmosphere.  I even managed to steal some butter sachets for an added bonus.

We were soaked to the skin after one of the hardest 3 mile walks ever

730.  White Hart, North Cave

I was celebrating in the back of the car when I saw the pub was opening as we arrived about 16:15.  I admire any pub that tries to survive on "wet sales" (i.e. drinks) alone, having cut back on not only food but opening hours too.  I got this round in, the landlord (think Dean Windass's sensible uncle) had short term memory loss when it came to ice cubes for Mum's lemonade and revealed they were free of charge(!) which is always a bonus.  The locals had gathered for a drink on the left hand side, and a trip to the toilets revealed two comfy white leather chairs - but whether you'd want to ever sit on them is another question.  Further toilet quirks ensued with a range of SEVEN types of hand lotion/soaps - a new BRAPA record beating Bolnhurst's five.  Dad thought he'd spotted a Corby trouser press on the wall, but it turned out to be an electronic darts scorer.  Our view - if you can't count, you really shouldn't be playing darts.  We saw a sign on the window confirming 4pm was indeed the opening time ever day, which made adverts for "Sunday lunches" a bit confusing.  Beer deserves a mention as the Marston's New World Pale was simply stunning.

So New Adelphi of Hull, it's all down to you now...... one East Yorkshire pub to go!

Soaked to the skin and ready for a BRAPA tick - me & Dad in North Cave

So, three difficult but interesting pubs DONE!  No time to breathe, on to Wolverhampton tomorrow.  See you Sunday / Monday for the report on how it goes as we march on towards the 750 mark. 

Until then, 'good night out there, whoever you are mwahahahaha.'  

Si

BRAPA - Accrington

In mi' Lancashire town - a typical street view of Accrington

It's not often a cup draw is kind to Hull City (i.e. the fans), always ending up in an uninspiring Watford or Middlesbrough, usually at home.  So, to get Accrington Stanley away was something of a coup - and as if the football aspect wasn't thrilling enough(!), the BRAPA element was also great with three new ticks in a town next in line for me alphabetically in one of my most neglected counties of 2015.

725.  Peel Park Hotel, Accrington

A useful tip-off from Christine let me know this was today's S.S. (Southern Supports) designated pub so me and Dad made the most of driving and arriving early to get this one done before any suffocation might occur.  My pre-conceived notion was a very basic hotel bar, but the reality was a much grander multi-roomed old skool Lancastrian pub.  I agree with such luminaries as Dad and Clare Hoppett when they have told me Lancs is one of the friendliest counties in the land, and it was in evidence here with a warm welcome from dog, locals and barmaid.  I ordered a pint of a 'cat nap' but with the dog having displayed early over-exuberance, it seemed wise to spell out C A T, barmaid and soon we were onto W A L K and V E T, other words that dogs don't like.  Although the ale was brewed in Cumbria, I maintain it had the pure East Lancs "no frills" taste and as it turned out, was pint of the day.  Dad described the surroundings as "homely, spacious, welcoming and comfortable" and typical of the "all-knowing" SS, they had picked the best pub.  As the Wetherhill machine came in to do a pre-session reccy,  we were just finishing our drinks - perfect timing!

Dad worked hard to get both pub signs in on this pic as we arrived in Acc.

726.  Commercial Hotel, Accrington

A cross-town walk firstly made us realise that Accrington was the most Lancastrian town ever (quite an achievement when Burnley and Blackburn are considered) but we were soon at this Wetherspoons house having picked our way past a few peculiar inbreds.  It felt like an older pub that had been converted, rather than the usual post office, bank etc.  Dad, in an admirable display of responsibility, wanted a coffee but the machine was broken which might have been a blessing in disguise if the Lancastrian Water Parasite (LWP) had slithered eastwards, so a J20 was safer.  I was struggling to choose a beer, the barmaid offered me a Moorhouses Bohemia as it was today's top seller, but being based on a Czech Pilsner, it was too sweet for my tastes.  Despite her initial helpfulness, she complained that she had a bad shoulder and shouldn't be pulling real ale.  I tried sympathy, but when I then passed her my 50p off voucher, she declared she had bad eyes and couldn't really read the small print.  Possibly the best hypochondriac staff member this BRAPA year!  The layout was standard Spoons, and soon Chris D and Chrissie A were on the scene, ordering two very plastic looking plates of chilli con carne whilst I tried to work out where this tribute to a local glass company was.  Me and Dad let them finish their meals, and we moved on.

Traditional style Spoons action at the Comm.

727.  Grants, Accrington

Research had told both me and Ben (before he decided he was ill & lacking enthusiasm & saving himself up for horse racing) that this was going to be the pub of the day so the plan was to spend the majority of our time here.  Oh dear!  Well, it wasn't without it's good points.  A large building, very modern so lacking some atmosphere but they'd obviously spent some money on it judging by the decor, including a few clocks.  This is because it is home of the Big Clock brewery, and you could see the brewing equipment on-site and also smell the mash (not potato) throughout the pub.  Staff and locals were very friendly, I spent ages sampling their beers at the bar and it almost became a competition to see who's recommendation I'd go with.  Problem was, with the exception of the 7.5% Ghost stout, they all tasted the same!  It was like Welly's dying days, or Whalebone ten years ago.  Dad, Christine and Chris were even more critical than me and the latter two made a quick bee line for the Peel Park and who can blame them?  I stayed loyal, well, made Dad sit with me as I nursed the Ghost very slowly.  Ooof.  But yes, what a disappointment cos it could have been great, or they could have at least put guest ales on like the GBG suggested.

Dad needs the loo badly, but is still happy to pose for the sake of BRAPA.

So then, the hilarious game, brilliant and terrible in equal measures - why do Hull City always make life as hard as possible?  It'll still be a memorable moment of the season "come what May" I reckon!

My fingernails are shredded as the penalty shootout commences.

COMING SOON

I'll be back on Friday to review the "bonus" pubs I am doing this week, those which are plagued by dodgy opening hours, dodgy transport, or both, and don't really work on either a Tuesday after-work night, OR as part of a weekend crawl.

And then join me on Sunday for a review of Wolverhampton's best 'outer' pubs which me, Dad and Tom will be visiting on Saturday.  August is going well so far.

Si

BRAPA - from Upper Denby to outer Blackpool

Parasites in Blackpool.  And I don't mean anyone on benefits!  (see pub 723)

Last Wednesday might have been the eve of the punk festival, but with only three West Yorkshire 'ticks' still to get, I was eager to crack on.

A train to Huddersfield and popular connecting service found me at Denby Dale, an interesting rural part of West Yorkshire with a viaduct making it rather like a mini Ribblehead, with a few happy cyclists getting off here for an evening of biking.     I walked down to "Denby Dale interchange" which was a glorified bus stop where a woman and young lad told me how one bus had gone missing and the service was always unreliable.  I was therefore relieved when it was my bus that arrived on time, even the driver joked about the reliability, it was mystery to all where the 1732 had disappeared to!

722.  George, Upper Denby

I liked this pub's feel, it had that rustic atmosphere you get in West Yorks rural villages and again reminded me how much I'll miss this county when I've finished ticking the pubs off in a week or two's time.  The beamed ceiling added character, and the main bar room was bustling and lively though the pub had only opened at 5pm.  Okay, so the locals weren't perhaps as engaging as Southowram or even Thornton.  Even a local dog called Hugo went round every single person in the pub APART from me, so I disqualified him from "pub pet of the year contender" and whispered this to him when he briefly came over to sniff my rucksack for food potential.  The barmaid was of the pretty brunette variety but as an ageing local told her, let herself down by walking like a stooped old crone which was harsh but fair.  A Scottish wiry bloke zipped around the pub, he was perhaps the Dad as I heard this is a family run pub.  Following on from last week, there was more egg chat - this time of the pickled variety as someone actually consumed one, whole.  All the books were about walking in the local area, apart from one, the 2015 GBG which I almost stole by accident as I'd left mine at home!  There was a great Locale on by Small World brewery at Shelley, and TT Landlord was also sampled - the beer quality was immaculate.

The George in Upper Denby viewed from bus stop

Due to timing issues, it made sense to catch a bus all the way back to Huddersfield and again, it miraculously turned up on time and a scenic 40 minute bus took me back to town before a speedy connection back to York, no extra stop offs due to impending punk fest, which is also why I hadn't taken Tom up on the Penistone suggestion.

Talking of the Punk Fest, my first morning (Friday) dawned bright and sunny and after a lame cooked breakfast to sustain me, I met Krzb Britain at North Pier tram stop as it was a case of "now or never" for BRAPA pub ticking.  Jig had also been part of Thurs night BRAPA discussions but didn't think to get ready in time, a shame as his hotel was across the road from the next stop.  It was first time on these trams since they have made the majority of them modern and soulless.  A few minutes later, we were in Cleveleys.

723.  Victoria Hotel, Thornton Cleveleys

Such is the dearth of good real ale pubs in this part of the world, Sam Smith's pubs do get in the GBG which never happens in York anymore, but this was a fine example of top quality Sam Smith's and certainly the biggest I've been in bar the Berkeley in Scunny.  The plan had been to sit outside but the interior was so grand with wood panelling, snugs and stained glass everywhere, we had to make the most of my probable only trip here in my lifetime.  But where was the barmaid?  Luckily, a local encouraged me to ring the 'last orders' bell which had been handily left on the bar in this event.  Problem was, the OBB barrel needed changing so she vanished again for about 10 minutes, it was one of the longest it took to get served all weekend, in the quietest of situations! However, the result of this fresh barrel was the strongest and most flavoursome version of the beer ever.  We joked perhaps this proud Yorkshire brewery saves it's strongest stuff for Lancastrians.  You may have seen on the news that a harmful parasite had got into Lancs water supply - most pubs had messages saying "take your own chances" but this one specifically refused to serve anything from a soda font (and presumably tap water but they didn't specify on the sign!)  Good job I only drank beer and tea all weekend.  A fine pub.

Me at the Vic, courtesy of Krzb "jaunty angle" Britain.

724.  Bispham Hotel, Bispham, Blackpool

A few tram stops closer to Blackpool was Bispham (pronounced Bisp-um, or Buzzpum if you are really hardcore Lancashire),  This was the second Sam Smith's pub of the day and a much more run of the mill example of one of their pubs.  The building was nice enough, still quite large but not a patch on the Victoria.  A bit like Hull's Bluebell or Rugby Tav, the locals were either depressive, weird, scary or any two of those three.  The barmaid even had her lipstick painted on in a down turned clown type from, she may as well have drawn worry lines on her forehead.  The Sam Smith's OBB was much more standard, funny how the same ale can taste so different two miles apart!  Krzb even experimented mixing his with Irn Bru, to create a drink which almost worked, but was sickly sweet and smelt like puke.  We found a separate room at the front of the pub which was a bit less inhabited, so any misery didn't rub off on us.  

Me from across the road at the Bispham Hotel

And then it was back to the centre to remember why we had really come to Blackpool!  I meant the punk festival, but why oh why is Pump & Truncheon not in the GBG.  To be fair, standards had slipped and ownership has changed, but it was back to it's absolute best this year circa 2008/9.  The Layton Rakes Wetherspoons was again very good, and Gillespies is another pub that surely deserves to be in the GBG based on my last two visits, but strangely isn't.  We also learnt the UK's biggest pub, a Wetherspoons on the South Shore, is opening soon with 3 floors, 30 pumps, 16 ales minimum on at all times, and must be a good pre-emptive for next year's festival as is the Auctioneer which was de-guided but might get back in I suppose.

Jig, Lu, Andy and Lisa enjoy our first 2015 experience in Pump n Truncheon.

This Week

Football is back!  3 days late for me, and a trip to Accrington with 3 new ticks is a great way to start.  I also have North Cave on Fri but both Wed n Thu might sneak in a little extra cheeky tick - you don't get much time off work do you?  Got to make the most of life and grab it by the BRAPA's.

Si
 

BRAPA - Hereford & Sheffield Outer

Me and Sinbad at Beer in Hand (Pub 717)

A double header football weekend was a great chance to get some BRAPA ticks in.  And after an unsurprisingly painful cross country journey down to the practically Welsh town of Hereford, me, Dad and Tom were ready for our pre-noon opener.

717.  Volunteer Inn, Hereford

This could have been a very good pub.  It had all the elements, some good quality ales with a south western bent, a nice traditional farmhouse feel, it even has an old skittle alley out the back which I'm sad I forgot to look for.  However, BRAPA always reveals what an important category staff is and the Robotic but Functional barmaid set the tone, but at least meant Dad could tell us about his programme of the moment, "Humans" on channel 4.  Even me asking for HPA in it's full name "Herefordshire Pale Ale" didn't raise a "you tourist scum" smirk on her face.   There was a bit of a fly infestation too (well, two or three of the blighters) and no silage problem to blame as in Bryherstones, Cloughton.  A few other female staff seemed to be lurking in the background too, one cracked half a smile and I saw this as a massive victory.  The music (of the terrible modern chart variety) didn't add to the pubs perceived ambiance.  I held a BRAPA committee meeting, which was basically me deciding we should move swiftly on.  A shame, could have done better, it had the foundations (so to speak).

Me and Tom say "Allam Out, flies out, miserable staff out" at the Volunteer.

We then popped into the Barrels for a 'swift half'.  I'd visited this before on my "holiday in Hereford" back in I think 2007 when I first realised Hereford was not so much a large village of sun drenched thatched cottages and farmers chewing weeds, but actually a bit of a shithole.  Nevertheless, the Dorothy Goodbody's guest ale was as nice as anything I had all weekend in this Wye Valley cracker.  I may have even recognised the local sat at the bar who, eight years ago, told me not to take an indoor photo of the pub in case the landlord minded.   He left me alone this time.  Scared of Dad and Tom, obviously.  The pub staff were friendly and smiley, and a piped smell of cloves was relaxing, though it turned to garlic when lunches started coming out.

John Watson got this same poster, but he has since lost it.  Wye Valley-tastic at Barrels. 

718.  Beer in Hand, Hereford

Hereford's new "micro pub" (actually, quite a large former launderette) turned out to be my pub of the weekend but got off to a shaky start with Dad asking where the beer was!  Like two of my modern Aberdeen pub ticks, friendly host Christian realised we were "first time visitors" and took us through "how it all worked" and soon we were settling down to gorgeous local ales (Tweed Hopster, Grey Trees Mosaic Pale my favourites), dispensed straight from the barrel,  I'd been bemoaning the lack of characterful BRAPA "pub pets of the year" only that week, so it was nice to see a dog called Sinbad who was fantastic, and believe me, I'm no dog fan.  Dad had won a bag of pork scratchings for winning Tom's prediction league 2014/15, but was it wise to open them in front of this creature?  I think if someone is opening a bag of pork scratchings on Mount Everest right now, Sinbad would know about it.  We had to share them after he did the "guilty eyes" thing.  Anyway, the ales were superb, ceiling pump clip decoration really appealed to me, and two Hereford fans even joined in my random "who played for Hull City at Bournemouth when we drew 0-0?" quiz.  It was so good, we even popped back in post-match for a celebratory "swift half". An excellent place.  The Jarrod Bowen of Hereford pubs. 

Me and Dad arrive at Beer in Hand, ignore the 'craft pub' nonsense.  It's excellent anyway.

A few hours on the train and a few hours sleep later and I found myself in Sheffield at 11:02, my train somehow taking almost an hour to get from Leeds to Sheff.  Typical Sunday travel, via Barnsley.

I dusted off the cobwebs by power walking two miles to the west of the city, and how nice it was to see a near deserted city.  Sheffield has rarely been better.

719.  Francis Newton, Broomhall, Sheffield

A Wetherspoons, but not as you know it!  Although having said that, the painful lack of service at the bar was quite typical Spoons.  Having read that Mr Newton was a former steel magnate who lived here in the 1840's, I was going to get a Steel based ale from Rotherham, but when the barmaid finally turned up, the ghost of Francis Newton took me over (I think) and forced me to order a Bradfield Farmer's Stout instead - it was like a pressure came down on my head.  Anyway, he reminded me to use my 50p off voucher so not all was lost.  I went to sit out in the warm morning sun and was delighted to find a huge beer garden which stretches out into a community nature reserve.  Only 25 mins from the centre, this place is worth seeking out as it shows both Sheffield and Wetherspoons in a light you might not necessarily expect.  My calm was only temporarily disturbed when a group of students complained in the softest way possible that their "extra toast" order had gone awry.  "Extra toast, what extra toast?" was the waitresses response.  Ghost of Franny Newton strikes again! 

A hearty morning stout in the biggest Spoons beer garden I've ever witnessed.

720.  Broadfield, Nether Edge, Sheffield

A 1.5 mile walk through part of the Nature reserve and a graveyard took me to "Sheffield south", where Tom was lurking somewhere nearby ready for me to buy him a blackcurrant cordial.  This pub was immediately impressive, really friendly bar chaps, a clean yet authentic feel with many large snugs each with their own stained glass window features.  You could really see how it had been previously a bit of a soulless one roomer, but care had gone in to making it more "traditionally Yorkshire.  Great beers from local breweries abound (and South Yorks does have a fine selection) and I tried a wonderful red rye Bleeding Heart from Black Iris,  As me & Tom sat in a sunny snug and discussed North Yorks BRAPA tactics for the coming months, I felt incredibly happy and relaxed and when I went to the loo, I felt like I owned the place.  The only way I could describe it is that I'd have felt perfectly at home slipping on a onesie, ruffling a couple of old men's bald heads, and moonwalking around the perimeter.  But luckily, I didn't.  

The excellent Broadfield in Nether Edge, Sheffield

It's when you relax in BRAPA that things start to bite you on the bum, and that is what happened next.  First, I took us into the RED Lion instead of the WHITE Lion.  Luckily, Tom had still not been served when I checked in the loo and realised my mistake.  The general atmos, one beer on, and rough wedding party feel made me smell a rat.  Nice to see I've fine tuned my senses to what does and doesn't constitute a BRAPA pub!

And then, when we found the WHITE LION, it was very closed.  Well, I say that, as you can see from the picture below, the lights are on so I think our hunch that it may have been a lock-in were correct.  Surely not football related?  Who knows, frustrating anyway from a BRAPA perspective but as we were a bit behind schedule not altogether a bad thing.

Shut pub alert!  White Lion.  Note the lights are very much ON.  

721.  Sheaf View, Heeley, Sheffield

Thankfully, this pub was not only open but quiet too, a relief as we'd read it is heaving with miserable Blunts on match days.  But as you could tell by Bramall Lane, the folk of Sheffield don't care a jot for pre-season.  And who can blame them?  Even though the bar area was very open, this pub also had a great feel and staff and locals seemed a friendly bunch, I chatted to one Sheff Wed fan who enjoyed skirting with the danger of drinking on the wrong side of the city.  More great locales were on show, Neepsend Pale the latest new brewery for me but the Pokies from Manchester was even better, New Zealand hops or not!  There seemed to be about ten toilets and the magical corridors never took you back to your seat the same way you had come from.  A more narrow area and side room were surprisingly full of local drinkers.  Sheffield really is a superb place for pubs, if not football.

Tom arriving at the Sheaf View

Unlike Hereford, the match was dire but glad I went.  Tom "forced" me to pop in for a swift half in the wonderful Rutland Arms (reviewed in January on mine and Dad's Sheffield day) and it was on top form.  Like Tom said, was there really much point building Sheffield Tap?

Overall, a very good but very tiring weekend.  

This Week

And not much time to relax!  Punk festival on the horizon and I'm going to make a concerted effort to get a tram up to Thornton Cleveleys and Bispham one morning before the bands start (probably Fri or Sat).  

I've still not ruled out Upper Denby either.  Depending how well tomorrow evening's "list ticking of tasks" goes (8 things to do tomorrow evening!), I might look at it for Wednesday.

See you soon, I'll be in touch.

Si