BRAPA - Paint it Black(Bern's Birthday BRAPA Bonanza) Pt 1/2

The Northern Rail strikes have never been kinder to me from a pub perspective.  Father Bernard BRAPA Everitt thought we should go to watch Hull City's away fixture at Blackburn Rovers (after our recent form, what could possibly go wrong?), he'd have to drive but it was his Birthday weekend, his decision, so was MORE than happy to agree to the plan.

Thing is, when you go by train, you are plonked in the middle of Blackburn, with barely a GBG pub within a mile of you, making pre-match pubbing difficult, or impossible.  Today, I could capitalise.  Not only that, Blackburn CAMRA (not TWAMRA) legend Ian Sutton had even offered to drive us around himself, giving us the benefit of his experience of the best local pubs, but as it turned out, he couldn't meet which was saddest for him really cos Mother BRAPA (now owner of a new Magi-Mix) had made the best Dad Birthday cake ever (not lumpy) and we'd packed him up with a slice. 

I met the Birthday boy at York's Designer Outlet at 8:45am on the dot.  He was 72 on Sunday, and the good news kept coming, I'd received a telegram from Phil Windsor saying Dad had 25 years at least driving left in him.  Cheers Phil!  A BRAPA bonus.  By 2044 , I'll have a self driving car anyway which can also fly and turn invisible so I can finally get to Stockport without being seen! 

We powered up "Slow-Joe" (the worst SatNav in the world) not because we don't know where the M62 is but because we like to laugh at his crazy ways.  Today, he decided to send us via Wetherby, Harrogate and up through Nidderdale.  So we patronised him. 

We arrived in the tiny hamlet of Great Mitton (which didn't show up on a map even when I zoomed in) at exactly 10:30am, the time that the pub opened.  Can I just say at this stage how glad I was to be reunited with my 'smart' phone.  I disposed of the disposable camera as quickly as I could.

Me holding my red mittens in Great Mitton

1470 / 2440.  Aspinall Arms, Great Mitton

The peaceful rural setting was accentuated by two roaring fires at either end of the pub.  A grand hall like building, leather armchairs, rugs, quirky old prints on the walls, random piles of logs trying to do something?  Hmmm, my BRAPPY senses were tingling - and then I spied Brunning & Price bitter and all became clear.  Pleased for Dad really, being in a stronger example of the chain I mean, his one previous B&P was the Physician in Edgbaston which I'd rank on the B&P scale of their tied houses as "utter shite".  This was "very pleasant".  We were under no illusions that if we were here 2 hours later at peak lunchtime, it might be a different story.  Alas, in this pub-ticking game, you can only take pubs at face value (we'd taste the other side of the same ale-flavoured coin later on today).  A friendly Scotsman pulled us two pints of some IPA from t'other side of the t'hills and it came with a warning "it's supposed to be cloudy in case you were wondering cos a few people have asked!"  Well, that shows how useless those jam jars are cos all those 10 day old samples are cloudy whatever you order.  And B&P just LOVE their jam jars more than any other chain (apart from Ember obvs).  But beer eh?  It's a mugs game innit?  We settled into armchairs, Dad refused to use his catchphrase "I could settle here for the rest of the day!" but it was warm, relaxing, and a positive opener.

Dad gets nicely relaxed

View towards the bar

The Japanese have got Fullers .... pass it on!

Study of the Mittens and Best Highlighter Pen Colour in the world.

South of Great Mitton but North of Blackburn was this funny little place called Whalley.  

It had a great local feel to it, the people walked around with a look on their faces of "isn't it great to be alive?"  This is slightly different from nearby Langho, where the stock expression is "How am I still alive?", Wilpshire's "I'm alive but I wish YOU weren't" or Blackburn itself "Please can someone end it all now?"

The good Ian Sutton had suggested a pre-emptive 11am opener, and after such a good start in G.Mitton, why the hell not?  

Dog Inn, Whalley

Kind of great that the first thing you saw on entering a pub called the Dog was a dog slumbering on the floor.  It had the expression of Danny Graham during his loan spell at Hull City, with an element of contorted Chris Martin, and wasn't moving for anybody.  His owner, a gnarly local character in what was a rather splendid traditional Lancs boozer with more cracking (below 4% abv) ale, seemed, rather controversially in these parts, to be a Burnley fan.  We were just safely away from the bar into a pleasant side room with a wonderfully tiled fireplace when the poor bloke gets surprised by a huge group of excitable Manchester City fans.  "Waheyyyy, all set for ya cup final today!" they tease him with those lovely Lancashire vowel movements (which reminded me, I needed a bowel movement until I went to the loo and realised how chilly they were, really should've gone in B&P).  Soon, they are putting Northern Soul on the jukebox and the jokey ringleader does this crazy dance whilst the others  stand in a circle and clap him on.  He even seeps into our room.  No wonder I drank so quick again, still not 12 noon, our Blackburn pub we were planning to go to next doesn't open til 12:30pm, don't fancy fighting my way back to the bar in here, and in probably the moment of the day, me & Dad realise there's a pub I've ALWAYS wanted to go to, hard by public transport, only 3 miles away!  Quick, quick, let's sup up and go!

 

Look at their little faces!

Hiding from the Citeh fans

My kinda pub!

So a short drive took us to the tranquil little rural community, where the air smelt of glorious manure and farm life, a canal trickled (I think), a goose honked in the distance, and I knew of this pub because it was the first CAMRA Pub of the Year Award after BRAPA started.  All those times staring at my map to see how walkable it was from Clitheroe, and here we were , doing it ad-hoc from Whalley in the car,  You just can't tell what's in store in the world of pub ticking!

If this was blankety blank, I wonder what the fifth word was?

1471 / 2441.  Swan With Two Necks, Pendleton

And if the location was superb, so was the welcome as we wandered in and not one, not two, but three ladies behind the bar all jumped to attention to welcome us, pull our pints immediately, and make sure we knew where we could sit.  I have to mention the latter point because the surprising point (to me) was the huge number of reserved tables on the right hand side of the pub, all but the one we were sat at had a 'reserved' sign on, only those closest us were eating, looked like some pretty nice fish n chips.  Dad winced and had to avert his eyes to stop himself ordering some!  So perhaps a surprise to find a CAMRA pub of the year so dining led, but as I mentioned in Great Mitton, that's the other side of the coin as it was now lunchtime, and let's not labour the point cos truth be told, it was a glorious pub.  The left hand area with the bar was amass with local gargling and laughter, quirky barmaids showing off their big stemmed plants - Dad even encouraging me to ask her for a photo which she kind of agreed to!  My Mapplewell nightmare and disposable camera of the previous night felt very much a distant memory.  The gents were outdoors (always a hallmark of a classic pub) and when I peered into the garden, am sure I actually saw a swan with two necks, I bet they breed them specially in a factory in Darwen.  And the beer, oh yes, well on a day of five above average quality pints, this was perhaps the finest.  Not so much lacings, as negligee worn by the classiest Clitheroe temptress (don't say it Russ!)  One of many pub of the day contenders.  

And time was somehow STILL on our side.  Time to get ourselves into Blackburn ...... and I'll tell you all about that, oh and the football (it didn't feel like a football day at this point) in part 2 tomorrow.

Si

BRAPA - Disposable Camera, Not Disposable CAMRA : Darton to Mapplewell

Friday morning, the train to work, and like a total idiot, I'd put my phone into my wrong bag and didn't have it with me.  "Oh well, that is Friday night BRAPA cancelled" I reflected. 

But hang on, I thought, the pub tickers of yesteryear couldn't rely on Google Maps, train apps and camera phones to get themselves around.  How did Taylor & Mackay get themselves to Netherton in 1974?  It doesn't matter, but they did.  Surely I could manage with modern technology for one night?  I just had to pretend it was the 1990's all over again. 

I printed off two maps, looked up some train times, and thanks to one bright spark at work, went down to Boots (this retro chemist if you've not heard of it) at lunchtime for a disposable camera.  I didn't even know they still made them!  The girl at the counter blushed when I asked, and blurted out "but....but.... when you want it developing, you'll need to go to BIG Boots, we don't do THAT here!"

Destination Darton

 

Come 4pm, and armed with my swashbuckling bag of tricks and a metaphorical flask of weak lemon drink, I headed for the darklands of North Barnsley, Darton to be precise.  It had a railway station, a micro, and Mapplewell was a 20 minute walk which also had a micro.   My Darton debut, place had a homely pleasant feel.

And not a bad area to be with a disposable camera I figured, pretty sure if said Apple or Windows to someone in these parts, they'd think of a round green fruit or something that you peer through at your sexy cousin.

My map of Darton

It is hard to 'map-read' when you've been used to following yourself as a blue dot for the last five years, I was so out of practice, and had no idea if I was walking in the right direction until I saw the pub across the road .....

I pressed the 'flash button' on the front of the camera, a red light came on with a low squeaking noise, I peered into the tiny shutter, a large click and flash of light, I'd taken a photo!  And no-one had seen.  Hurrah.  I wound on the film triumphantly and prepared to enter .....

1468 / 2438.  Old Co-op Ale House, Darton

The door was unnecessarily stiff, and made that annoying shop door noise as you enter.  A dark haired lady near the fire chuckled as I struggled to get in, she did this with every other customer too and I wondered if this was the pub Martin "RM" Taylor thought was shut when it was in fact open.  A smiley young tall bloke served me a pint of good ole' fashioned Acorn Barnsley Bitter.  I thought £3.40 was a bit steep for this part of the world  They had these homebrews on called 'Grumpys' but not sure I trusted them.  A beer bore asked him about a recent pub award win and what beers had he brought back from some visit, the answer was, thrillingly, Cappuccino something and Espresso something else.  "Haha, like your coffee beers then!" replied Mrs Bore, but I'd realised I was still brandishing my disposable camera which was stranger still.   Sadly, the cosy wood burner was being monopolised by chuckling brunette and her mate, and two blokes on another table.  So I sat at the chilly far end, so I could take an indoor snap or two.  Then I realised I didn't have a pen, so had to scribble notes using my green highlighter.  I felt like Bear Grylls.  This was BRAPA in Ultimate Survival mode.   What I thought was a schoolgirl coming in to use the bogs turned out to be a barmaid starting a shift, and is so often the case when the staff are baby faced, they decided to ID this young lad with his Dad despite the fact he was definitely a #PubMan of the future.  But he kept giving me the 'irrits' (as we say in Australia) by looking at my camera in a weird way.  I took a few snaps which I'll get developed next week.  Not much else happened, was a bit chilly, but I feel this place did have something going for it, but micropubs suffer in January even more than other months.

BRAPA notes : gonna put them on eBay for £500 if you're interested

I'd got my bearings and worked out which road led to Mapplewell, though I hadn't factored in the darkness of the evening so my map was next to useless, and I had a crisis of confidence when it all became a bit rural half way down!  Was about a 20 minute walk, and I realised that my phone acts as a kind of comfort blanket / reassurance device as much as anything!

I knew I was on the right track when I saw the Talbot pub, for I'd done this one a few years back.  It was rather dining led, but is in that Pete Brown blokes book of 100 best pubs, not cos it is (not even top 1000), but because he grew up here so it means something to him. 

I finally located pub two, another Micro, not so lucky this time as a young lady in the window saw me take the photo of the pub front (damn micros and those huge glass windows!) and told her boyfriend 'ey up, a weirdo is about to enter'.

Map of Mapplewell, next to useless

1469 / 2439.  Old Bakery, Mapplewell

And if I was off to a losing start from the moment I arrived, it was all downhill from there.  Circumstances seemed to stack up against me to make this a miserable BRAPA experience.  Was the pub so bad?   Perhaps not.  Limited yes, but had I gone in on a quiet afternoon with sun shining in, perhaps I'd have found it a lot more positive, I mean let's be charitable.  But not too much.  The barmaids (including one with newly dyed pink hair and crazy fake lashes) seemed like they could at a push be a hospitable bubbly duo.  It soon became clear no seats were available and I'd have to perch at the bar.  So, in micropubs, doesn't that mean you are 'involved' in the conversation then?  Well, the one local in the same predicament as me had a recent voicebox installed, said he was glad to get his voice back, but had to push down on this button on his neck so much, conversation looked likely to be a struggle for him.  At least he winked and mimed 'cheers!' which was more than I got from most.  When the BM's weren't being friendly to the locals, they were looking at dog pictures on one of those modern bloody smartphone things(!)  "Awww, he looks like Chewbacca!" remarked one.  "Haha, well not sure about that, but definitely a Wookie" replied the other, which even a non Star Wars enthusiast like me found a bit bizarre.  Plan B, I plonked the GBG on the bar and theatrically highlighted it!  That often provokes a reaction.  No, simply accentuated my weird isolation.  Even the bogs upset me, or the tap to be precise.  You had to wave your hand across a sensor to get water out.  Took me 5 mins to fathom it out, upsetting!  Oh, and don't forget two identical ladies with short grey hair, asking for peanuts, and opening them at the bar.  Ok, so they don't know about my allergy but it felt like they were doing it deliberately at the time!  Three quarters of the way down my pint, a really nice personable bloke (the bloke I wanted to be) offered me a seat "if you don't mind dogs".  I told him thanks but no twoggin' thanks.  Then, he had a laugh about gin with forest fruits and bought both barmaids a drink.  "That's so kind" everyone agreed, embracing his effortless benevolence.  By now, I was a twisted wreck who wanted to kill him.  I muttered goodbye to a regular stood behind me, and slunk out, never to return.

I couldn't even bring myself to get an indoor photo in that pub of my contorted face. How did people do Selfies in the old days on disposable cameras?  Did they?  And if so, were they missing out? 

At least there was a more positive note to end the night on.  I was early for the train and I'd seen something called the Darton Tap which I felt looked pre-emptive, so I shimmied on in for a quick half.  Quite a cosy lively place really, beer just as good as the other two, it even had a decent stab at bench seating and plenty of folk who smiled at me.  Darton 1-0 Mapplewell.  With me at a stool and everyone deep in conversation and facing away from me, time to try an indoor photo.  The flash wasn't on, so I aimed towards the bar, to take a general shot.  Suddenly, a huge flash, a loud click and whirr, and all the old blokes at the bar turn around.  "Am so sorry!" I squeaked.  "Ey up lad, it's arite" replies the spokesman, much to my relief.  

I ran out towards the railway station, hoping I never have to step foot inside a BRAPA pub with a disposable camera ever again! 

Si 

BRAPA - To Boldmere Go Where No Pubman Has Gone Before : Trekking in the West Mids

As so often seems to be the case on a Championship away day, we were back in the West Midlands, home to all those football teams who you could never call 'very good', but aren't bad enough to be called 'rubbish' either.  And they all hate each other despite being almost identical bar the colour of the shirts.  It is such fun.

So now I've lost 80% of my readership, let me take you back to last Saturday where myself (Spock), Father BRAPA (Jean Luc Picard) and Tom (the know-it-all with the beard, 'Will'?) aimed for some pre-match ticking on the 'Aston' line before our game at 'the Villa'.

We 'alighted' (as we experts say) at a railway station with a real nod to BRAPA, Twylde Green, where we walked in the drizzle a short distance to a place called Boldmere.  Quite a pleasant lively main street, plenty of Asian food outlets, funeral directors and hair salons, one of which was called UBU so I made a Purity joke which would've had the beer bores lapping it up had I had my Periscope 'live feed' turned on.  All in all, it was not too dissimilar from that Brampton area of Chesterfield or somewhere else which escapes me.

It felt like this main drag was geared up for a Wetherspoons, even if you didn't know there was one.  I did however, and we faffed around with photos and found two doors shut before finally finding the really obvious main entrance ......

1465 / 2435.  Bishop Vesey. Boldmere

After recent Saturday morning 'Spoons visits, I entered this place with a slightly nervous air, wondering if I'd find the one member of staff serving 30 angry people, pumps turned around, poor beer and sticky tables littered with dirty plates and cutlery.  So this was something of a surprise, and its 18 consecutive years in the Good Beer Guide was there for all to see with a rather classy display.  People were dotted around, staff were in evidence, yes it took longer to get served than you suspect might be the case in yer back street local, and I stepped forward with two 50p vouchers for a nice cheap round .... and this was after Dad has demanded Oakham Blue Skies.  "It's 6%!" I squealed like a baby shrew.  "Am I bovvered?" replied Dad (sort of) channelling his inner Vicky Pollard, and promptly disappeared.  "Did he used to play hide n seek with you when you were a twild, and always win?" asked Tom as we wandered around the pub with the drinks a few minutes later, but Dad was waving from a balcony.  Upstairs 'Spoons, well that's a rarity for me, must be one of those posh Lloyds No 1 houses or something?!  Tom had already put forward his theory that Martin Taylor could actually be an undercover policeman, when conversation got even darker.  First the Madeline McCann case was discussed at length, before we revisited our Deathlists that we'd compiled in the Nag's Head in Loxley, Sheffield back on 17th Oct 2015.  I just have two to get, Clive James and Murray Walker, but Dad and Tom both have Phil Windsor and after his recent driving escapades, it seemed relevant.  Not sure why the chat was so bleak, it was a happy 'Spoons and a good start to the day.  

Blue Skies drinking .... (Mega Lolz) (no i didn't get a top up)

Nice upstairs area and another lovely 'Spoons carpet

Tom drew the pub in case my outdoor photo didn't work

Arty shot towards the Harvester and UBU

Next we took a 20+ minute walk from Boldmere into Sutton Coldfield, one of those places I'd always heard of but never thought "wow, I'm dying for a trip there!" 

You could tell, as I actually thought it was called Sutton Colefield and I imagined sooty faced urchins playing on a slag heap in the centre of a slum neighbourhood, so to find it was quite a posh little place was a surprise.  We'd already passed an Ember Inn and an Artisanal (with the emphasis on the anal) Gin & Craft Bar (both bound to be in the GBG next year) before we came to our first of two pre-match pubs .....

1466 / 2436.  Brewhouse & Kitchen, Sutton Coldfield

My first thought "Good God, can't they at least restrict Brewhouse & Kitchens to London where they belong?"  But no, it seemed, and in quite the same way I'd jump off a cliff if the GBG told me it was the right thing to do, I had to go in and neck a pint.  Thing is, modern upmarket style bars like this are always quite dispiriting in terms of atmosphere, but at least you can doff your cap and say "well played on a great pint".  But I've never said that in a B&K, the beer always falls short in my opinion.  Here (after one of those annoying 'coming soon' labels had me ordering a beer that wasn't ready), the 004 Oaks was like a pint of tap water with hops dropped in it, not a quality issue, just a shite beer.  Remember the fish tank in Glatton last week?  Well here they'd stuffed the fish tank full of hops like that'd be an interesting thing to do.  On the plus side, I had a great time at the bar cos this Icelandic looking dude probably from Solihull with a beanie, sleeve tattoos and a sentient beard which ordered him a Gamma Ray with a Hot Chocolate, paid by contactless (of course),  and sat moodily at a firepit in the centre of the pub and you know, it just seemed right!  When I ordered Tom's blackcurrant squash just after, the barmaid looked dumbfounded, did she not realise Tom was at the cutting edge of the nu-hipster revolution? Oh, and Dad went missing again and it took us ages to realise he was still in the bogs, enjoying the hand soap options of Lemongrass or Bergamot, which would've tasted nicer than what I'd just ordered him.   Can we leave now?

The ales came in these horrid tankards too

Tom and some very nice tiling in the bar area

Firepit Scandanavian fun

The fish are dead, long live the hops!

Capitalising on Sutton Coldfield's recent foray into the well heeled trendy crowd, it was nice to see one of our fave #PubMen had opened a craft bar opposite this pub despite supposedly being in Crete or Greece at the time ......

Sir Quinto Lounge, a sure-fire entry for 2020

Next, we crossed the road and turned left off the main street to our final and more traditional pub before kick off, deliberately planned this way as we might want to stay a bit longer here (i.e. squeeze in an extra half) than the previous two.....

1467 / 2437.  Duke Inn, Sutton Coldfield

Ah yes, this was a timely reminder of why I so enjoy the West Midlands as a pub ticking area, basic side street boozer, almost hard to believe we'd only walked about one minute off the main road through the town.  It shouldn't have been difficult at the bar, as we were greeted by a young hospitable barmaid, but I started trying to remember what 61 Deep used to be (if anything!) but the barmaid thought I meant what used to be on THIS handpump, so she said Deuchars, and that confused me more! Not that it mattered, but I took a photo cos Dad suggested I could ask the beer world of Twitter when I did my 'check in', but I got her in shot (for once, I wasn't even meaning to!  HONEST) so she says 'hope I wasn't in that photo!' so I then try to explain about BRAPA but it didn't work cos I didn't have mi bag n paraphernalia with me and oh dear, well I felt like a dork, so sat down with my HPA and said nowt!  Never mind, in the bogs, some jolly gents tell me they've already had a group of Hull City fans in and we were like 'hmmm, wonder if they were the Gooligans or the S.S.?'  They were all Villa fans but were not going to the game but said they were nervous!  Dad was loving the place .... "anything could happen here, a brick could come through the window and I wouldn't be surprised!" he said with a winning smile.  Another barmaid came through clutching a bag of limes, she was an even happier soul if that was possible.  Then our original barmaid came back through to try and put the horse racing on for the codgers, one out weirded me by almost saying something dodgy, then stopping himself and telling her "I wouldn't .... I've got daughters older than you .... besides, your old man is a copper isn't he?" and I think it might be the best pub quote I'll hear all year.     Dad & Tom then put the gloss on a cracking pub experience by having the longest debate about how much an AMT coffee napkin actually cost.  I yawned.  Time for the match!

Proper no nonsense bar

Loved this blokes jacket.  Wolves v Leicester was a bit talking point in here too.

Great view of the bar with no people in shot cos I'm not a monster

Classic bog shot

Then for the game which was a bit of a cracker really.  Villa swarmed all over us, then we went all brilliant and went 2-0 up with classic goals.  Then we were unlucky to concede before half time cos our defender had gone off injured.  But second half they equalised, the 30K plus crowd properly got behind them, I thought "we are so gonna lose this!" but we weathered the storm, and if we'd signed the right Chris Martin and not to dude from Coldplay. we could've even won it at the end but overall happy with point, and it broke my 4 defeats in 4 record at Villa, which shows what an unlucky pub Barton Arms really is despite its Oakham Heritage gloriousness (ignoring the Thai bullshittery). 

Post match, a nice Twitter bloke called Neil Harris had come up with a pre-emptive cracker near to New St for me so we headed back for 'Pint Shop' to say hi.  The one in Cambridge goes in and out of the GBG, so it seemed like a fair bet.  

Pint Shop, Birmingham

Well, it had scaffolding all around it, was a heaving throng of throbbing twenty somethings, the staff were top class, but all the beers were on those little taps so hard to so what is cask and keg, not that it should matter of course to a true woke honorary millennial like myself, but I panicked and chose a pint of 'number one' from the menu which wasn't a pint of wee, but a very nice Salopian Oracle, sadly in a handled jug but bless the barmaid's wretched Brummie heart, she'd waited for me whilst I'd gone to the blackboard despite how busy it was.   No chance of a seat, it was draughty around the front entrance, upstairs was only for whiners and diners, so we secreted ourselves into a side near a booth and I sent Dad on a mission to find Neil Harris.  "He looks like a Neil", "I think he just nodded at you", "I think this Neil might be bald", "Is he old of young?", it was a decent scouting mission from Dad (and Tom) but to no avail, so I did them a 'guess the football results' game on my phone (Dad won) before we decided to end it all (so to speak) and make sure we were back in time for the half six train.

Me looking simple

Tom looking stern

"Don't take a pic of me blowing my nose!" says Dad, which I didn't

Bit too busy to be nice

Lucky people with seats (I hate 'em all)

Train home then wasn't too bad, you couldn't do a Brum day much better than this we reflected.  Neil Harris messaged to apologise, he'd got comfy in the Victoria and couldn't move and on this Pint Shop showing, think he made the right call! 

Onwards and upwards, I'll be back on the BRAPA trail this Friday in some Yorkshire town of ill repute.  January hasn't been the most productive month so far but edging back towards that 1475 mark where I 'declared' on the 2018 GBG, so have nearly made my numbers back up.  Good. 

Si

BRAPA - Harrogate, still as Harrowing as Ever

"SHIT, THANK SHIT FOR THAT!"  I didn't mean to say it quite so loudly, but as the delayed bus finally swung around the corner to take us from Wetherby to Harrogate, it just came out, much to the amusement of the attractive brunette, the only other person waiting with me.   Luckily, in this day and age, no one with Tourettes gets the kind of raw deal they used to, perhaps she thought I had it?  For good measure, perhaps I should follow up my outburst with the odd 'fuck' or 'bugger' ?  Thankfully, I realised the driver was asking where I was going, so that put paid to that possibly unwise plan.

This was a much more pleasant journey than the L**ds to Wetherby one earlier.  Okay, so I ate my cheese n pickle pasties in an angry jerky manner but I was feeling generally positive, three pubs to do in Harrogate and still only 6:30pm on this bitterly cold Friday.

Except it wasn't THREE pubs, it was TWO I soon discovered.  The 'Swan on the Stray' had been renamed just 'Swan' and I hadn't realised, I'd done that in 2013.  In fact, I only looked because the rubbish GBG App was only indicating one pub on Devonshire Place and I was checking to make sure it wasn't the same pub as '10 Devonshire Place'.  Does this make any sense?  Are you keeping up?

Ahhhh, my annual trip to Harrogate.  Toffee nosed snooty cold uncaring unfriendly twee ponce shop Harrogate.  Where blousey ladies crowd in to Betty's Tea Rooms and everyone walks around with a silver spoon on their tongue and a stick up their jacksie.

Pub-wise, there's been some I've enjoyed over the years.  10 Devonshire Place was one, Major Tom was good in a hipstery smash your head against the wall kinda way, Hales was good for a laugh back in the day but I got bored of it quickly, Coach n Horses and the Spoons both decent.  Little Fail House, the micro, with their unannounced NY closure 2 years back was maddening but ok when I finally went, friendly at least.  But it is your Montpelliers and your Blues Bars and your Fat Badgers that really set the teeth on edge. 

Tonight's first pub was classic HG, "Bar, Cafe, Kitchen" it said.  What about the word 'Starling'?  Was I in the right place?  After much lurking, I saw it printed on the big glass windows.

1463 / 2433.  Starling Independent Beer & Coffee House, Harrogate

The name said it all and I walked into the small downstairs bar where the four tables to the right were lined with smug looking pizza eaters.  I smiled at them all, no one smiled back.  At the bar, I was greeted by a typically artsy, quirky young lady who'd stepped out of a vintage magazine in Hebden Bridge.  Not for the first time, I tried to combine the name of the beer I wanted.  "I'd better have a Winter Stout under the circs, ho ho!" I said, it was snowing a bit.  But it took her ages to realise what I was on about, it wasn't funny anyway, I need to make a note to self to stop.  Finally, she got the gist and says "If it's gonna snow, I want a full whiteout or nothing!" which was a nice maverick response.  "More Seating!"  beckoned a sign up the stairs, I did this twice as I needed the loo once, both times, I gave way to the same male staff member.  Neither time did he thank me or so much as acknowledge me.  This is why I dislike my Harrogate visits in a nutshell.  I shared the upstairs room with a bloke I did warm to.  And how could you not warm to a Jewish American Danny Baker?  I hoped he was a pub ticker.  He had that aura of gentle kindness and wide eyed inquisitiveness.  The highlight was when he suddenly loudly clapped his hands together and made me jump.  "Sorry, am tryin' to kill a fly!" he explained. Bands like Elbow and Cat Empire blared out of the speakers, I looked them up on Shazam and funnily enough, both bands looked like the kind of folk who'd be eating pizza downstairs.  I took my glass back to the bar and barmaid, more animated now, wished me a good rest of night which was nice!  And she was right cos I was leaving here!  (Kidding, but not really).

Not a beer to joke about, unless you are funnier than me

I think the green hand soap goes well with my jumper!

Pre-fly killing incident

Just a few minutes closer to the railway station was my other pub, though I walked the long way around cos I'd already said no to the homeless guy once and would feel guilty a second time.  I then saw a homeless lady and had to say no to her too, "have a good night anyway", she says.  "I will, you too" I reply without really thinking.  "I'll try" she says.  And I find always good to have a positive attitude even if you have cashflow issues, it can get you a long way, just ask Nigel Adkins. 

Now I like North Bar in L**ds a lot, and I quite enjoyed Further North in Chapel Allerton, but if anywhere could kill my love of this mini-chain, it'd be Harrogate.  Let's go in and see shall we? 

Steamy windows, always fear the worst

1464 / 2434.  North Bar Harrogate, Harrogate

But this was much more like it.  Okay, it was never going to be an old style pub, and it didn't have the lethargic long lazy wooden layout of its L**ds counterpart, but it had an atmosphere, it had loud laughing people, a cracking barmaid with x-ray vision who saw me through a crowd and told her gormless male colleague I needed serving, it even had a photo booth, a man dressed as foliage (probably one of those crazy pagan Green Man types), as I took my delightful Magic Rock Ringmaster to a table in the main bar area - note the 'high peril' I put myself in, putting myself on the line for my readers of course so you best be bloody grateful!  And it soon got busier, louder, harder, faster, pussycat, kill kill! (Sorry, got a bit carried away there).  Foliage bloke and wife's friends all turned up, lots of hugging, standing about, asking if they could take the chairs from my table.  I was like "YES, YES, TAKE THEM, TAKE THEM ALL, PLEASE, JUST LEAVE ME BE!"  In fact, down three steps in the direction of the bogs and photo booth was a perfectly good separate room, but it sat empty.  Why do people do this?  Insecurity in the worry they are missing out on the 'action'?  Vertical drinkers who wanna just chug one down and move on ('sitting down is for the weak' mentality?)  Or simply a total lack of spatial awareness?  Doesn't really matter, it is wrong whatever.  So whilst I look back on here with mainly positive thoughts, always good to check your notes from the day.  And late on, I did write "Bar 19 Blackpool for boring cunts" which shows just how frenetic it became as we neared the witching/bitching hour of 9pm when all Harrogate folk hit the prosecco with a new found vim and vigour.  

Foliage man in 'calm before the storm'.

View to the bar

Photo booth in a pub so you can be wacky bastards

Ladies of various heights ready to jump aboard the Prosecco Express

My train was a bit delayed, so I had a swift half in the Harrogate Tap, which I sometimes think is my favourite of all the Taps, but I should probably be loyal to York cos it is rather good unless you go in on race day or a Saturday evening.  Sheffield has its moments but beer quality and space are sometimes issues, I'd need to see Newcastle again in the day time, L**ds Tapped I can't get on with, and I've forgotten any others.  

A friendly bloke who was obviously a visitor to the town told me the hand dryer in the gents was making him deaf, and I almost actually missed the train and had to run!  Productive evening to take the pressure off Aston Villa the following day, which I'll tell thee about tomorrow.

Si

BRAPA - Always Take the Wetherby With You

My BRAPA debut in Wetherby was finally here.  Bit of a strange one, as it isn't one of these Yorkshire towns that no-one has heard of.  It has a racecourse, it has a river, it has a #PubMan, it has a famous fish and chip restaurant.  But then again, it has no railway station, and a Friday evening bus ride from L**ds took approximately 80 minutes.  One dude had the right idea, bringing a six beer carry out for the journey from North Bar, Belgrave Music Hall, or one of the other nearby crafto beardo outlets ...... he knew what was in store!

I felt quite sick, hot and sweaty as we wound our way through all those GBG pub-free places like Seacroft, Boston Spa, Collingham, Thorner and Bramham.  Only a lady trying to force her copy of Woman's Weekly on an embarrassed bloke was a moment of any note, at least she didn't hit him on the bottom with it.  Jeez, just let us hope the pub would be good .....

Boring story time.  This was quite a big tick for me as it happened.  Back on 13th August 2015, I went to the (sort of) wonderful Anglers Retreat in Wintersett, meaning I had just ONE pub left to do in West Yorkshire (this one), to complete 'West Yorkshire' for the first time.  But before I got chance, the new 2016 edition dropped through my letterbox, this pub had been binned, and remained out of the GBG until this year, by which time it had a slight name change from 'Muse' to 'Mews', either because they'd realised the band were shite, or they thought 'Mews' sounded more upmarket like the town they probably aspire to be, Harrogate (I'm joking of course).

It was pitch black and trying to snow when the bus unceremoniously dumped me outside a giant Morrisons, and I tottered up to the pub where fellow totterers, two women in ridiculous stilettos, distracted me with long legs and a shriek, and I missed the pub entrance.

1461 / 2432.  Mews Ale & Wine Bar, Wetherby

Well, it certainly was a 'Crowded House' (ha ha) as I entered to platters of sandwiches and people who had the nervous squint and stale air of the 'office worker' milled around in the back and middle of the pub.  Bit late for a Christmas do?  But then again, we'd had ours on Tuesday in a Japanese place so I had no room (literally) to talk.  I fought my way past a couple of knock off Radley handbags and Cath Kidston prints 'bar-wards' and a lively pale young lady with purple eyeshadow which made her look like she'd been a Polish POW since 1945 did well to see me through the gap.  "You with the big group?" she asks, and sadly, I said I wasn't.  Surprised, she charged me money for a very nice pint of stout from Leicester, the only time you'll ever hear me say 'very nice' and 'Leicester' in the same sentence.  With zero space, I did something the 2015 Si wouldn't have done and asked two blokes including a young Patrick Kielty if I could share their table which they agreed to.  I pulled my chair back towards the wall, my pint at arms length, as if to say "I'm not invading your space".  Then, came an onslaught on buggies and twogs as if the pub couldn't get any more chaotic, and there was no sign of the party dispersing.  Dryanuary?  That particular memo never reached Wetherby.  As soon as I opened my bag to try and smuggle a cheese & pickle roll, the twogs descended - they're not even meat, gimme a break!  There was still a long time til my bus, but I couldn't sit here any longer, so I braved the cold night air .....

Plot twist : all that is in the pram is a draft copy of the 2020 GBG

Twoggy one

Twoggy two

Random ole' character goes in for the stroke

Starting to clear at the bar

NFL Leeds top man seemed a character of note

I sank my Sinker just a bit too quickly!

I passed the posh chippie which I nearly named my blog after (Wetherby Aler, I'd probably be ripping off the local CAMRA mag name) but I didn't think the Americans and Canadians would get the reference.

To kill time, I found a little footpath down to the river and hovered in the sleet, wondering how cold the water was, and having a wee behind a bridge as the odd dog walker and mad jogger wondered what on earth I was doing lurking down here!  

On the good side, I didn't have to get a bus back to L**ds, as Harrogate was only a 30 minute bus ride away, and I had THREE new pub ticks to do.  Well, it'd be rude not to do them wouldn't it? 

More on that tomorrow night, 

Si 

BRAPA : The Archives 2019 Part 2/2 (York, Leeds, Carlisle & London)

This vintage edition allowed me to get Town Hall Tavern in L**ds ticked off

Five more pubs I visited either before I realised what BRAPA was going to become(!), or I just didn't believe they'd ever get in the Good Beer Guide.  In any case, this is definitely the first time they've been in the GBG since at least 2014.

415.  House of the Trembling Madness, York

Of course, living in York, I had to have done this one, especially as me & my mates visit the 100+ cask ale pubs in the City on a fairly rotational basis most Thursdays.  Not sure when it opened, am guessing 2013, I know my first visit was before September in that year.  I was definitely there on 20th Feb 2014 when the first seeds of BRAPA were forming in my delicate brain.  Many love it, I've never been a huge fan (this pub, not BRAPA!), but that is usually due to how busy, hipstery and full of lapsed vegans it is.  'House of Pretentiousness' is what me and friends call it.  But let's be fair.  It is actually a superb little warp beamed ancient upstairs bar above a bottle shop with good atmos.  Oh the shop, where the staff are proper snobs (my friend once witnessed a lady asking for help choosing a beer for her husband.  She only knew he liked Hobgoblin, so wanted a similar style.  She was told to stop wasting their time and piss off to one of the little local supermarkets nearby).  The thing I remember about my first visit is opening a box on the wall and a big fluffy spider popping out.  There's lots of stuffed animal heads on the walls.  Place smells of meaty foodstuffs and it's quite mouth watering!  There's usually 2 cask ales on, good quality, it's more craft n bottles n cans really but often, the two ales have both been over 6% which isn't a nice choice on a 'school night'!  Quite often you see people queuing downstairs, waiting for someone to leave.  No way I'd do that, so it's off to Three Cranes for a pint of Tetley's.   Back in 2015, we heard it was closing in Oct '18 and moving to a bigger premises, which sure enough opened on Lendal.  Nowhere near the same atmos of the original, even poncier (I did that as a pre-emptive a few months back) so was amazed when it was the supposedly soon to be closed original that made the GBG!  I had a job explaining this to my fellow pub tickers who I think thought I was making the whole thing up!  Bad enough Adlington has two Spinners Arms.  It's still open as far as I know, something must've changed, or it the power of a CAMRA GBG entry keeping them alive?  Hmmmmmmmm.  Whatever, I know a dude called Mark T who has had 612 drinks here!

416.  Eagle & Child, York

Staying in my home city, and if I was surprised to see HOTTM in the Guide, my jaw positively hit the floor when this Leeds brewery pub made its debut in the 2019 edition.  First visit on 2nd Dec 2015 was easily the best.  I left my wallet at home (that wasn't the reason) so I had to lurk around til my friends arrived.  The bar was far too tall for a short ass like me but stood on tip toes and got this amazing pint of Ginger Marmalade from the infuriatingly great Brass Castle, served by this incredible barmaid, the likes of which I've not seen in York before or since.  We went upstairs, it was all very nice.  But with each of our next half dozen visits, it has somehow got worse each time.  Not meaning the ale, that is always good quality (Good Beer Guide eh, clue in the name!) but the upstairs rooms are ALWAYS ALL RESERVED.  And the nice side bar I used originally, they just stopped serving people at it til I finally complained "why have it if you don't serve people at it?" and last time, it had miraculously vanished.  Power of BRAPA?  Coincidence?  Oh, and the door is stupid cos you get stuck half way in it, never known a pub door like it.  I think HOTTM is a wonderful pub by comparison, now I think about it!

417.  Town Hall Tavern, Leeds

The first GBG I can see this in in my 'era' is 2005 so am guessing about Oct 2004 for my first visit here (I'll have gone to L**ds Waterstones one lunchtime, and seen it whilst browsing).  I used to do this thing called the LLAC (Leeds Lunchtime Ale Challenge) where I took a couple of work colleagues to a L**ds pub on lunchtime, funnily enough.  There was an LEAC evening version but it never caught on.  I remember coming here on a sunny lunchtime with a bloke called Mark Dobson and a lass called KFK who never seemed to warm to me, but the feeling was mutual.  It was full of oldies smoking and chatting to us, and I think Tetleys or Timmy Taylor Landlord was all you could get.  I remember coming in here with the good John Watson, who'd travelled over one evening from York probably later that winter for an ale crawl (we didn't call it LEAC though) and think we enjoyed it though v.smoky again.  I think it became very Tim Taylor after that, can remember seeing the full range.  It had lots of L**ds decor including the rugby and football (spit!) team.  So I was very amused when I'd forgotten all about it for a bit and then in about 2010 I heard a team at work had their Christmas do here!  Those who'd known it before weren't impressed, said it was all dining led, food not great, atmos gone.  I think I did pop back in sometime in last 10 years but can't really remember.  Time for a re-visit I suspect?  Have they made it pubby again?  We'll see.

418.  Beehive, Carlisle

In that difficult period of my existence when I'd started going to Hull City away games regularly, wanted a pre-match pint, but had no idea what any of the pubs were like (partly because I didn't know the Good Beer Guide existed), me and Dad came to Carlisle a few times, parked on the road between Brunton Park and this fairly chunky pub, and went in mainly cos it seemed near to the ground and didn't look totally terrifying!  I see it is Greene King, Marstonsy and Sky Sportsy now, and that is sort of how I remember it then.  I was a Guinness drinker when I first came in back on April Fools Day 2000.  A lucky pub perhaps as Hull City won 4-0.  A year later, 5th May 2001 we came back to Carlisle for a pointless end of season goalless draw with the good John Watson, did we come to the pub this day too?  I can't remember.  It was my final visit, 25th August 2001 (another 0-0) I remember best as we'd stopped (Appleby, not Richie?) for an Omlette on the way (such novices back then) in this dodgy cafe with weird staff and by the outskirts of Carlisle, I'd puked everywhere!  I practically crawled into the pub, a nice pint of Guinness sorted me out, and then Dad who'd been ok started making these crazy gurgling noises from his gut and went pale, I remember moving the huge pub menus away to under the table so he didn't have to look at images of chips and steak!  Then he put his head on the table, I said 'there there' and went off for another Guinness.  What great days.

419.  Skinners Arms, St Pancras, London

From 'feeling faint and having pains in the pancreas' to St Pancras.  Seamless link.  The date was 14th April 2012 and me, Dad and Tom (and possibly Ben and Christine) were coming back from an away 1-1 draw at tWatford which may have been a lunchtime kick off(?) for some post match refreshment in London (no point looking for ale in Watford is there?  Well there wasn't then anyway).    The complication was that BOTH Liverpool and Everton were in the city for an FA Cup Semi final.  On the way out of Vicarage Road, Tom had asked a yellow shirted bloke the score and he'd said Everton had won.  So we tried the Bree Louise but there were people spilling out like Euston puke, so we turned back away towards Kings Cross and found this place down a side street.  We congratulated a Toffeeperson at the bar who looked a bit confused, and then we retired to a booth in the far corner which was showing highlights of said Semi Final.  And then it became clear Liverpool had actually won right at the end, ooops, but I remember thinking quite a nice smart cosy pub, better than many divey rubbish we'd been to in this area!

So there we go for another year.   Hard to think the 2020 GBG will through up any pubs which make me think 'hang on, I've not written about that bunch before!' but I thought exactly the same thing about this edition so who knows what surprises we'll have in store.  Roll on September (sort of).

Si