Four days to get stuck to East Sussex, one of those counties I've criminally neglected over the years. I had my train snacks and was ready to go for leg two of the BRAPA summer holiday ....
E.S. doesn't appear as foreboding, as a Norfolk, Devon or West Wales, and recent morale boosting trips to Eastbourne and especially Hastings had me feeling like a child in a sweet shop, but instead of fizzy fish and liquorice torpedoes, you had Stabilos and seagulls.
I stayed in beautiful, but ever so slightly flouncy touristy Rye, so I could also attack Kent from the bottom up if the mood took me. My accommodation was another pearler, 'Spoons rug to make me feel extra welcome ....
And my first pub was a two minute toddle around the corner .....
Now I know what you're thinking, 'surely BRAPA approves of a pissy themed micro', after all Waterworks, Rye (2563 / 4458) is housed in a fascinating old public bogs, amongst other uses, and the attention to decor detail must be commended, especially the Doom Bar hand pull loo flusher. And I'm no Doom hater like you probably are. But the place fails on the Micro spirit that makes those in Kent and the North East great. Both bar persons look mardy. Local bar blockers have similar slapped arse faces. It is inevitably touristy, and that local vs. tourist separation creates a disjointed atmosphere. Their own ales (I tried two, one called Uryenal!) weren't that great either. Could've been so much more.
But I couldn't call today a success until I'd attempted something slightly more awkward and off piste, so I take a bus out to the village of Icklesham for pub two of five today .....
The tiled pub sign told me as much, but the Queen's Head, Icklesham (2564 / 4459) was more my speed, what with its worn carpet, narrow beams, weirdly angled bar and tropically shirted guv'nor pulling a tropically shirted ale from Tonbridge. What is it with bar blockers and East Sussex? Serial offender of a county. They tell me they're listed on the blackboard. "Sorry, but I need to see the actual pumps" I reply, sticking my head beyond their beer guts. Lacking obvious indoor space, I retire to the outdoor area with fabulous views over the Brede Valley, and a formerly traumatised dog who dominates every aspect of his owner's relationship is spoiled rotten.
My bladder just about holds out til Hastings, from where I walk uphill to St Leonard's on Sea where I have one tick remaining, having done the excellent Nag's Head a few months back. But if I thought that place was a bit bonkers, I ain't seen nothing yet .....
Almost dangerous in regards to its balls-to-the-wall 'alive' atmosphere, Tower, St Leonard's on Sea (2565 / 4460) is great cos everyone is pissed out of their skulls. A simple formula which works well. Cursing my beer choice as I swerve three favourites (ESB, White Rat, Citra) in favour of an obscure Dark Star guest hidden from view. Poor. A bag lady drops in tonnes of stuff that would've been charity shop bound, before the most pissed blue haired lady shouts that my top is too green. "Waterproof though!" I say, looking out at the heavy rain. "Oh, into watersports are ya?!" she cackles evilly, staggering as she stands up, telling the barmaid "have they put extra alcohol in this Tequila?"
And that is why pub ticking is such a great pastime. One final stop on the train as evening merged into night time. Bexhill-on-Sea.
And a great stroke of luck as I happen to spot on Google, just as I'm careering past the micro in the direction of the club, that it actually closes at 8pm. And it is about 7:30pm. Quick quick quick, let's get in!
So in these circs, I'm pretty animated and excitably talkative as I leap inside Brickmaker's Alehouse, Bexhill on Sea (2566 / 4461), glancing up at the blackboard (the only way in here) to choose a pint of some strong NEIPA murk, which ends up being my favourite pint of the day. But I've not really read the script, excitably talkative isn't the Sussex way tonight, the other chaps strike me as serious lugubrious beer folk, but I'm impressed with our host, who even checks Albatross doesn't close early for me - the mark of a good man! Definitely a place more for the beer fan, but it certainly was good at what it did.
So one final stop, around the corner, down a slope to a cute curved building, the misty sea rain peppering my face - was this really July, or November?
Into the Albatross Club (RAFA), Bexhill on Sea (2567 / 4462), there's a large group of jolly geriatrics strumming away on ukuleles and piccolos and the like, to an audience of .... zero! But don't worry, they're practicing. I'm relieved to see two men drinking by the bar, one I think is the guv'nor but is just a random bloke from Blackburn who's broken in (only joking), chings me a bonus £1 for the tin, notices my accent is more northerly than Bexhill, so we have a reet good chat about BRAPA, pies and whippets. Band are decent, Stray Cat Strut, love it! "Well, they were dreadful when they started! says our host. Enjoyable quirky place, had spirit and a good heart (no, they didn't do Fergal Sharkey for an encore).
And then it was back to Rye for my first night in my new digs.
Five more to tell you about tomorrow/Friday as I tackle a bit of southern Kent.
Thanks for reading, Si
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