BRAPA - London, My Favourite Joke

Look, you could be in rural Derbys or Staffs, probably

First rule of pub blogging, if you haven't got a photo of a pub cat or a foaming pint of best bitter being drunk by an grumpy ancient, make sure you stick a Bass logo in there for your opener.  It's the only way you'll get these chumps to click on yer link.

Anyway, now for my joke...... brace yourselves .....
"Did you hear about the dog on the London Underground that swallowed a trumpet?"

"It went from Barking to Tooting in 25 minutes."

Which better way to honour my favourite joke than to build a BRAPA day around it?  Especially when pubs in both Barking and Tooting were required.  Let's just say the joke writer was optimistic, it took more than 25 minutes, a lot more.  Though clock starting and stopping didn't really work, though I'd say it was somewhere between 40 mins to an hour.  Tom, do you have a clearer idea oh sober blackcurrant train expert one? 

Anyway, the idea had been in my mind for a while and finally, the perfect opportunity presented itself.  This happened when Hull City's cup game at Millwall which I'd pre-booked (at some expense!) was inexplicably moved to 2pm Sunday because the East Timor & Tibet branch had chosen it as their televised game (who said FA Cup magic was gone?)  Oh well, all the better for BRAPA!

Despite a typically dense email from Tom about our 'travel moves', me and Dad shinned down to Barking via Liverpool Street where it became clear Birmingham City were at West Ham for a lunchtime kick off.  Young men in burberry who looked like they loved estate pubs but didn't carry beermats started singing the following ditty every time the automatic train guard chirped up ....

"Mind the gap, mind the gap Aston Villa,
Mind the gap, mind the gap, we are Brum
We're the loveliest bunch of fans in the Midlands
And I'm off to stick a finger up my bum"

I made up most of it cos they'd got off the Tube and were drowned out.  Finally at Barking after an IFGW incident (Idiot Forest Gate Woman), we peered down the street for the pub.  Saw a Spotted Dog pub, felt confused, then Dad spied, even closer, our pub .......

Dogs are Everywhere

1447 / 2418.  Barking Dog, Barking

So, the first BRAPA tick of 2019 but it was a scene stuck in time as ruddy faced West Ham fans lined the walls, trying to force down two more pints before the Tube to the ground.  The pub smelt of dog food, was it piped in for the pub name?  Well probably not, as the 'Spoons menus with their little history section on the front claimed the name was all to do with a ship and nowt to do with dogs at all, which seemed rather disingenuous.  Just as in Lincoln's Ritz last week, we found Tom here.  He was hovering at the bar (sort of a bit 'side on' for my liking) where a flustered old lady was trying to serve the hoards.  The couple next to Tom had spent an age trying to get her to top up their Ruddles.  As they turned to leave with consolatory words for the barmaid about how well she was coping in the circumstances, I smiled thinking they were about to say something about the tricky service situation, but the bloke just barks (well it is the barking dog) "DON'T STEAL MY RUDDLES!" which I had no intention of with my Titanic White Star on the way.  Finally Tom got it to us, Dad had found a booth, this was one of those older school Wetherspoons when they made an effort to make them cosy and pubby, enjoyable atmos with or without the 'appy 'Ammers.    In all the mayhem, Tom had ended up paying minus 32p for his pint of Blackcurrant.  Result!  The clientele weren't the only dangerous things, the glass collector lady with eye makeup of legends watched an old lady on two sticks struggle to leave the pub, without so much as even offering to hold a door, and warned our flustered barmaid "we don't accept paper fivers!" presumably in case she'd forgotten, or the Hammers were trying to pull a fast one.  Of course, they should be, as Cooking Lager would say 'it's a promise off the Queen!'  Time to go.  

The scene so classically 'Spoons

The Ruddles of contention

Luckily, the BRAPA 'third kit' was a good choice in here today!  Mind the double chin Aston Villa.

So, Tooting bound then!  Well, not quite as Limehouse was a good place to change so said Tom and who could doubt him, for I needed one of my few remaining East London ticks here.   

The train was absolutely packed, Tom tried to make out this was in no way related to football traffic in any way cos he'd only seen 2 scarves and not many skinheads or something.   This was actually a steaming pile of horse poo as we told him.  "Have you ever been to West Ham since they moved to their new stadium?  Cos this is what their fans look like these days!"  He admitted he hadn't.  

It was bitterly cold in Limehouse, where George Formby did his famous Chinese Laundry Blues, nothing to do with Birmingham City (unless they were owned by Chinese people who laundered money, which am sure isn't or wasn't the case), so after a brief rendition, we realised we'd walked the long way round but soon found the pub ......

1448 / 2419.  Craft Beer Co, Limehouse

Can't say the thought of entering ANOTHER Craft Beer Co pub filled me with a great deal of joy, but as with the Holborn one I did in September, I felt it did have something going for it.  Green bricks of course are a nice sign, and this former Railway Tavern was actually a Bass pub and you could actually get a sense of 'old pub', even if the Bass mirror (top photo) was probably bought off Google in November in a special offer with an Demi Lovato tee shirt.   It also had a bit of an Antic vibe, but I think this was solely down to the weird mismatched retro furniture which is supposed to be oh so contemporary but is actually just uncomfortable.  The two bar blokes postured and preened, looked like they had the ability to be proper hands on with tasters and advice, but one look at us, just happy to get us away from the bar and in the corner.  Dad sat us right near the front door, and though he offered to move us, I declined but regretted it as pub traffic meant it was one icy blast of air after another!  Tom asked the question all BRAPA Stans were wanting to hear "is this dog a twog?"  The owner had gone off to the bar, and came back to me saying that it was too early to judge how much of a twat it was, which I guess out of context sounds a bit harsh to a poor defenceless, some may say "cute", creature.  I later decided no it wasn't.   Mr Dog (disguised as Eddie the Eagle Edwards) soon joined her for a smooch, a slurp of red wine and a laptop fiddle.  Dad meanwhile, was pleased to witness something he always looks out for on our London trips, his first LMH of the day (London Man Hug).  My favourite pub feature was in the bogs, possibly a novelty Christmas present,  a strange grey device you pissed on to turn it white which then emitted a pleasant fresh smell.  But you know, on the whole, not a pub to be sniffed at!

The dog of debate

Most artistic shot of Tom ever taken

Shhh, the dog (not twog) is sleeping after too much red wine

I'll tell you about my final 4 pubs of the day tomorrow, shorter descriptions as I get more drunk and stop taking notes, so that can be of some comfort to you all.  

Si

BRAPA - Linkedin in Linkoln (Part 4 of 4)

With rubbish bags strewn across the pavements, it was the kind of main street I half expected to find Phil Mitchell sat down eating a Fray Bentos pie in a doorway.  We were south of Lincoln centre, where we had one more pub to do before heading back to civilisation.

This was to be pub three of the day.  The Ritz Wetherspoons wasn't a good example of what this wondrous chain has to offer, the Golden Eagle was a marked improvement.  So hopes were high after recent positive micro experiences in areas like East Yorkshire and Merseyside. 

1444 / 2415.  Hop & Barley, Lincoln

The Scotsman behind the bar was the one who made the most effort with us today, semi-interested in BRAPA and what pubs we'd been to and were going to, even if he was no fan of the pub we'd just come from!  Sadly, the ale I picked was dreadful (it was called Devil's Return from Avoiding Line so there was a clue in there!) and even though Christine had a taste and went "yuk", I still got a pint cos I thought it might improve.  Dad said his Nethergate was good for balance (not his balance, you know what I mean!)  The place itself was the blueprint Hillier style micro, very Dr Phil's., a tiny cold square loveless building eschewing all aspects of the good ole' fashioned gammon flavoured boozer, which made the barman's watching of loud films on an electronic device all the more surprising, as I've been in similar micros which would ban such behaviour.  Luckily, we had a crossword and Ben came up with a game where we all had to bet on five football teams to get away wins today, I did rubbish, I think Dad won, and I sulked for ages when Ben said Dunfermline would win at Falkirk.   The loo had an interesting sticky door (not as sinister as it might sound) but that was all, and after  another brief nice chat with our Scottish hero about my next two pubs and their staff who he was friends with, I made a mental note and headed back into the cold Lincoln air. 

Lincoln is a funny place for many reasons, not least the fact the level crossing is kind of actually in the city centre, never known owt else like it, so shoppers and pubbers have to wait patiently (well you can go up and over but probably not worth your while) to get from A to B. 

I had a pre-pub mission actually, I needed to buy some charcoal pens for New Year's Eve for letting the new year in / first footing (don't ask) so I found an art shop called Blue Bird or something, pretended I was any other kind of artist than a piss artist, wowed the shop assistant with my dynamic approach to buying charcoal pens, and popped round the corner for pub four .....

Mum with daughter on lead tries to pull her out of shot

1445 / 2416.  Cardinal's Hat, Lincoln

I walked through the door, where there stood Dad, who presented me with a pint of something dark and glorious, and the others indicated it was choc-a-bloc downstairs so we ascended to the upper level.  I was a bit mindful I'd been dilly dallying like a dithering idiot so apologised to the barman shinning up the stairs behind me for slowing him down.  "Don't rush mate, I need to slow down, need a bit of a breather!" he replied, who'd work in a busy central pub like this, gruelling?!  The upstairs was a warped wonky tudor-tastic gem, well I say gem, it didn't have the atmosphere of a Thomas Wolsey Ipswich, a Black Swan York or a Board Inn Bridlington, but more a Tobie Norris Stamford with folk who showed a bit more initiative.  And if that isn't an obscure pub description, I don't know what is.  Still, quite a trendy crowd, menu with a bespoke cheeseboard printed in newspaper form.  Warm and comfy on the low flung settees, but hard to really love or totally feel  part of, I just kind of felt like I was passing through a building where it just so happened some people ordered beer and sat down!

Tudortastic Tom channels his inner Henry VIII

The menu

Trying to reflect the wonkiness of the upstairs

'Twas time for my final GBG tick, and we headed just around the corner to a surprisingly quieter location on the side street.  I could tell straight away I was going to enjoy this one. 

1446 / 2417.  Joiners Arms, Lincoln

It was still only 2:15pm when we got inside, so you could see the great progress we'd been making.  The pub had a bit of a Golden Eagle vibe to it, the old Lincoln City programmes, a degree or two colder than you might like, but I tell ya Titanic Plum Porter can make up for a lot?  And what was this?  Two framed football shirts belonging to one time Hull City legend (for 3 games til his 'step over' was found out by opposing defences) Cameron Stewart?  Even the locals weren't sure.  I got told the landlord should know, can't remember if I ever asked him.  In this weeks edition of "I thought I'd seen everything in a pub but I've never seen that", a bloke kept wheeling a wheelbarrow around the pub whistling, he seemed to be doing some work in the room next to us but it all carried on in perfect harmony with the pub operating as normal, there was something beautiful about it.  In the true spirit of this celebratory time of year, Christine had a game for us and soon we were blowing up inflatable reindeer antlers and throwing hoops at Tom's head.  Like you do.  Next thing I know, the Sky Sports screen opposite tells me Hull City are winning at L**ds.  Whaaaaat?  Luckily, if I was too happy, Ben brought me back down to earth with tales of Falkirk doom and also asked "what ya gonna do when they stop publishing the paper edition of the GBG cos it WILL happen?"  Of course, Dad then chimed in with one of his "You need to adapt BRAPA, it is unmanageable, and it'll kill you!" statements.  They may be right, I may be crazy (as punk legend Billy Joel once sang) but do you see Duncan or Martin adapting their challenge?  Does the bloke from Brighton with the wife adapt his challenge?  Does the man from Halifax who lives in Winsford cos he hates life adapt his challenge?  COURSE THEY DON'T!  They crack on regardless.  And as if to illustrate why it is all worthwhile, Twitter legend LincolnPubMan tracked me down in here to say hi and have a pint with us.  Lovely chap, great to meet him, soon Hull City were 2-0 up, Dad went for a train, me and Tom caught him up cos I'd had enough to drink, end of a great day out!

The bar

The building work

Retro gaming

Ben gives Tom a blow

Hoopla!

It can't be Cameron Stewart can it?

Like the ones in t'Eagle

We had to change at Newark which had zero places open to get warm, get a coffee or anything but luckily, I'd drunk enough to think I'd discovered a micropub on the station:

Oh dear!

And that is the end of BRAPA 2018.  I'll be back tomorrow to tell you about a pub crawl of London based on my favourite joke.  

Si

BRAPA - ImpPreston (Part 3 of 2, or Part 2 of 4)

About to take the 'plunge' in Preston

Let me transport you back to Boxing Day, it was about 1pm as I approached our third Preston pub of the day, flanked by Father BRAPA and Matthew Lawrenson.  It's fair to say it hadn't been amazing so far, a slightly above average Wetherspoons had been followed by a pretty lame Marstons.

"Eviscerated" was the only word I wrote in my notes all day.  Preston does that to a person.  I was going to describe what Marstons had done to the Wellington as to what Jack the Ripper did to Mary Kelly, and Dad, very much a Victorian gent in his own right, so a murder suspect, thought this a good term.

And the scene didn't seem to be getting any brighter as we swung a left into a little courtyard (not Millers Court) and were confronted with beer barrels, a blue bin and a scene very reminiscent of the Brew York Tap Room in York, and I didn't really want that .......

1440 / 2411.  PR1, Preston

So imagine my surprise when we pushed the door to find a cracking dimly lit room, carpetted, full of old blokes who all closed ranks when they saw my Hull City top.  Never doubt Lancashire's ability to impress pubwise just when you think all hope is lost!  "Hello Matt" said the perky landlady who allegedly likes the odd herbal substance like any good barmaid west of Rochdale, this was a good moment in the day as it is hard to go on a pub trip in West Lancs without M.Lawrenson being recognised by somebody.  This place is listed in the GBG as Mad Hatters, so this most recent change of ownership (it was Ale Emporium before) means it probably will be dropped from the 2020 GBG but I guess rules are rules.  As I supped my glorious chocolatey ale from Beer Brothers who own this gaff, the old blokes snarled at us and loudly debated Boothferry Park v KComm Stadium but didn't try to talk to us at any point.  There seemed a little bit of doubt into the room as to whether this place would last, or maintain the high standards we found today, but I have to say it was my favourite of the four we visited.

Blokes and mysterious snacks

Matthew's friend was a top landlady

Pillar lurkers pretending not to be PNE fans

Pint o' t' day

A long straight road took us to our final pre-match pub, north of town in that Fulwood area where Matthew had been a twild and a recent maybe murderous event had closed part of the road the pub was on.  Matthew actually took us a slightly more threatening diversionary route in the hope some peril befell us but almost sadly, it didn't. 

It wasn't long before the pub was looming out from behind a fence like the local sex pest:

Oh my gosh, I've only just noticed the bloke (probably not a sex pest) in the fence gap!

1441 / 2412.  Plungington Hotel, Preston

The most highly anticipated pub of the day as Matthew has often found it full of twild life, twogs and diners, a combo to send the BRAPA rage flying into overdrive.  But guess what, I enjoyed it so suppose we got lucky.  A friendly welcome, a Christmassy piano and fairly tasteful decor, and a lively selection of locals made for an easy community atmosphere, the likes of which I hadn't seen for a while on my trips.  The talking point, if you're forcing me to talk beer, was my pint.  Ugh, so sour, but annoyingly, one of those "what if it is supposed to taste like that?" pints, a Castle Rock guest called Sir Peter Mansfield who was a science dude who had a Ready Brek glow, possibly from all the Plutonium, which might've got into this pint.  Dad was feeling bold, and took it back on my behalf.  Apparently, the bar man was very good about it, more than happy to change it despite perhaps not being 100% sure it just "wasn't to my taste".   My replacement was spot on.  Two lively groups combined to trap us in the corner, where they had a captive audience so they quizzed us on Hull City's chances today so we played it down, as is the way to do it if you want your team to win!   So a positive pub experience to end on, and I'd not have thought that in the build up.

Mansfield and his Ready Brek glow, would've gone ginger if I didn't hate it in beer!

We then walked through a park, said farewell to Matthew, and went to the match.  And guess what?  Hull City won again.  No stopping them at the moment.

Fast forward three days to Saturday 29th December and we landed in Lincoln for the annual Welly Winter BRAPA Day out, where those of us who used to drink together in Hull's once brilliant, now closed Wellington, meet up for some ticking.   As the majority live in Lincs, we got ourselves down nice n early, via Newark, where we had a 'Spooooons to tick.

My first trip to Lincoln in nearly 4 years, five pubs in the GBG to do, only one was in back then, and this was my first foray south of the railway station away from the pretty cathedral town that 'THEY' like you to see.   Well, first pub foray, you'd have to go back to the days Hull City used to lose every year at Sincil Bank since I was last out this way.

Putting on the Ritz

Shopmobility scooter bodes well for classic pub experience, doesn't it?  

1442 / 2413.  Ritz, Lincoln

It was hard for me not to compare this to former 'Spoons of old theatre/cinema credentials, Picture Palace in Ponders End.  Sadly, it wasn't a favourable comparison as it felt much more like a Wetherspoons than anything else (if you know what I mean!), and you had to really squint hard to see a bit of curved ceiling which could perhaps be a throwback to it's past.  It was just after 10am and packed to the gills with shakey post Christmas drinkers and breakfasteers with ashen faces  and dark circles under their eyes.  As is the way in a morning 'Spoons scene, one barmaid was admirably trying to serve about 20 impatient people, so I managed to make eye contact and smile early so didn't have too long to wait.  And a waiter bloke did try and get her some help.  Dad went to find a table and located the good Tom Irvin, blending in to the crowd nicely in his Quicksilver knock-off coat.  It was a squashed messy scene, I drank this thing called Pheasantry, nice enough but tasted like a pint of 'Spoons branded beer, and Dad got one of those craft 'J20's' to be good.  The scene picked up when our final gang members, mother n son combo Christine and Ben arrived, and I was given a late Christmas/early Birthday prezzie which was that booked on 'Spoons carpets!  YESSSSS, love it so much.  And a copy of Iron Brew, the Scunny area CAMRA mag where Christine's done a BRAPA article on our day in Cleethorpes.  So at least that lightened the mood of a pretty grim 'Spoons start.

The scene so typically 'Spoons

Dad's pint of craft, note paper straw cos Tim is a plastic free god.  Perhaps.

Me n my prezzies!

My own photo in honour of the Wetherspoons Carpet book.

Next, we kept walking south to our furthest point, a pub that had just alluded me on my previous visit in Jan '15, but still in the GBG, and you could see why .......

The gang at the Golden Eagle

1443 / 2414.  Golden Eagle, Lincoln

First, full marks for the pub being open at 11am as advertised at such a nothing time of year, I've learnt not to take this sort of thing for granted!  We were greeted by covers of old Lincoln City programmes and an excellent chirpy barmaid.  I went for a BrewYork ale which had just gone (serves me right!) so I went Harvest Pale, still a bit mindful of my dodgy Castle Rock pint in Preston 3 days back, but this was glorious stuff, quality, lacings, perfection.  Oh, and they care enough to have a sign in loo telling you to rate the ale on WhatPub and even Untwappd.  A throwback to the days I used to go to VAT & Fiddle in Nottingham pre-BRAPA and loved this ale so much I got nothing else, but have not liked it as much in that 2014-2018 period!   Pub itself was a nice two roomer, bar was great, suffered a bit from us being only customers as Ben pointed out, so bit chilly and lacking in atmos, can't blame pub for that, back room seemed like it'd be better on a busier day but we sat in front bar.  Xmas decor-wise, too much tinsel, not enough tasteful,  and that blingy peacock wallpaper was an abomination, could they not find a golden eagle design or was it tribute to former Tiger and Imp Richard Peacock?  Don't be silly!  Was like something you'd find in a bordello, kept imagining a blousey 65 year old with big hands called Ruby or Steve coming in to take you into some back room for a massage.  Anyway, a slow burner, but like all quality things, the longer we stayed, more we enjoyed it, one of the stronger pubs of the day.  

Programmes!

Great little bar

Feel the quality on that

The upsetting bit

Ales n stuff

There were still three pubs to go at.  I'll tell you all about them tomorrow!  

See you later aley gators (ha ha ha), Si

BRAPA - December 2018 Review / January & 2019 Preview

Plum Porter Grand Reserve in Stormbird, Camberwell, a highlight of December.

Good evening folks! 

I'm still behind with my pub blogs, I still need to tell you about Lincoln and the dog-end of Preston (technical term) but on the eve of my first pub-tick of 2019, I thought I'd better bang out this review.

December was a record breaking month to complete a record breaking year.  38 pubs achieved in Dec, the average is 29.6, very pleased with that as it can be a tough month with people 'wanting to do stuff'.  Luckily, BRAPA makes me more of an outcast year on year so the majority have given up on me as a lost cause, and that is cause for celebration, probably!

Great little sesh with Martin & Christine Taylor on 15th, another December highlight

Over the course of 2018, I visited 447 pubs in the Good Beer Guide, a few of those were pre-emptive but came good in the 2019 edition.  There are still a few 'floaters' (another technical term) which I'm hoping will make the 2020 edition of the good book.   It beats my 2017 total of 401, and is rather lizard (liver) shattering but I've never felt better or younger, honest.

The most gruelling part of the year coincided with 'Project Calypso' when I was sent to London, followed immediately by a holiday in Dorset.  So in the period 14th Sept - 12th Oct, I visited 83 new pubs.  I feel kind of proud, kind of ashamed.

Oh, and I had a late boost late on New Year's Eve when writing my end of year blog, I realised that during the September GBG 'cross-ticking' exercise,  I'd totally forgotten I'd been to two pubs in Shifnal, the White Hart and the Plough, both brilliant but the problem is, Shifnal feels more West Midlands / Staffs than Shrops so I totally overlooked it. 

Upshot is, I go into the New Year's ticking tomorrow on 1446 pubs in the current Good Beer Guide, 2417 in all editions. 

It's very rare I say this but there were more pubs I disliked than liked in December '18, but here are three I thought were special in their own ways:

1. Board Inn, Bridlington
2. Jono's, Ilford
3. Adam & Eve, Homerton

Special praise too for Joiners Arms in Lincoln, Monks Walk in Beverley and PR1 in Preston, enjoyed these quite a bit too.

Sooty and cheeseboard at Board Inn, Bridlington, a wonderful pub

And here are three experiences I particularly wasn't a fan of:

1. Hop & Barley, Lincoln
2. Wellington, Preston
3. Marine Hotel, Hornsea

But on a stronger month, stuff like Chesham Arms (Homerton), Travellers Friend (Woodford Green), Black Horse (Rampton) could be in bottom three, bit harsh on the Chesham I guess but the man who got cross with me spoilt it!

Can you enjoy a pub with a sign like this and a door that doesn't close?  Of course not.  Black Horse, Rampton

Ever wondered what calendar days of the month I've never visited a GBG pub on?  No?  I cannot believe that.  Here is a list you never wanted.  If your birthday is on one of these days, you actually owe me a pint.  Sorry, I don't make the rules. 

Jan 8th. 
Feb 29th (leap year!) 
April 24th. 
May 8th, 11th, 15th, 18th, 21st, 22nd.
June 18th, 19th, 26th
July 31st
Aug 9th, 21st, 23rd.
Sept 4th.
Oct 22nd, 26th.
Nov 13th.
Dec 5th, 10th, 25th (Christmas!), 27th.

So now you know.  Let us hope in 2019 I can chalk some of these off!

January Preview

As we all know, pubs don't open in January.  Partly because it is cold, hard to get motivated, and a nice time to leave the country.  And partly because they probably assume everyone is doing Dryanuary or some shite and they may as well not even bother trying! 

Not that I'm resting on my laurels, but after a top December, 2018, and a forthcoming 'BRAPA winter holiday' in Dorset in Feb, I'm happy to take it steady.  After all, with 25 ticks in 2018, Jan was my least productive month.  I'd take that now!  On Sat 19th, I'm controversially thinking of just going to my old fave Barton Arms before Aston Villa away and staying there!

Tomorrow (5th), I'm doing a London crawl based on my favourite joke .... all will be revealed.  And I hope to get back to West Yorkshire Friday evening ticking on 11th with a trip to Sandal and Osset. 

On the 12th, my penultimate trip to Cambs with Martin Taylor, mopping up 5 or 6 pubs in the North of the county around the Peterborough area. 

No idea on 26th yet, it'll be Father BRAPA's birthday trip so he gets a say but a lot depends on what happens to Hull City at Millwall in the 3rd round of the FA Cup this Sunday.  If we win, do we get a nice juicy away tie?  If we lose, can I really be arsed with Blackburn?  Besides, if Blackburn win tomorrow (they're at the Mags so unlikely), it isn't an issue anyway.  Phew, tough!  Still, I have serious unfinished business at the Black Bull on Brokenstone Road and part of me would love to get there and stick two's up at it after last seasons nightmare!

Blackburn when I was young & unscarred by BRAPA.  Adelphi, Aug 2012.  Scary but brilliant pub.

2019 Preview / Strategy

This is the time of year, of course, where I look a bit further ahead and think about what I want to achieve BRAPA-wise in the coming year.

I guess the first real landmark will be the 1500 mark which will represent one third of the Good Beer Guide.  I'm 54 pubs away at the time of writing so I reckon late Feb / early March might be the time to get the bunting out and declare me king of the world.  I wonder what pub it'll be, hopefully something suitably low-key and amusingly dire.

An afore-mentioned holiday back for leg two of Dorset is my first big trip of the year, in mid Feb.  This time, and in light of the wintry season, I'm making sure I'm there over a weekend and staying in the less rural south east, so expect to find me in Poole, Bournemouth, Wareham and (squeeeeek) Worth Matravers and the like.  I cannot wait!

Another big landmark will be on April 5th, to celebrate BRAPA's 5th birthday, the twildy little bastard.  I'm off back to where it all began (errrm, Bedford) for a couple of nights doing a few Beds pubs that weren't in the Guide circa 2014-16 when I was focusing on the county.  We'll have a week of celebrations, I'm going to do a quiz so you can see how BRAPA you are!

In June, I'll be back in Cornwall for a week for my third year of ticking the county, mid-Cornwall this time.  But this year, I'm going to learn lessons of 2018 and NOT book a second holiday straight after cos it nearly killed me!

And my other main holiday will be in October, not sure where yet.  It may be nice to get to somewhere I've just not done at all, kind of keeping an eye on Dumfries and Tayside areas.

In terms of counties, I'm nearly finished with Cambridgeshire and as with Berkshire, February should be the month I complete it.  It's been a decent county in truth, bit like Berks, some great stuff, some totally crummy rubbish, better than Bucks and Beds, but not really West Mids, West Yorks or GMR levels.

That means by March, I can focus on somewhere new.  Ideally, this will be Cumbria, as daunting as it looks.  Problem is, Northern Rail continue to frustrate and train expert Tom thinks I'd be better cracking on with Derbyshire and waiting to do Cumbria in that mythical time in the future when the UK train system is the envy of all the world!   I'm also going to get a foot hold in Durham in 2019, which sounds a bit like I'm invading which I kind of am.

Friday evening-wise, for now I'm looking to polish off the last 5 West Yorkshire ticks (providing blogs are up to date, hence why I aren't out tonight).  Then I'll seamlessly move onto South Yorkshire so by April kind of time, I should be able to get back over to Greater Manchester area and spend spring and summer evenings cracking on with pubs over there. 

So there you go, it'll be busy whatever but the GBG won't tick itself, see ya in Barking in a few hours!  Woof.

Si