BRAPA .... ALL SCREAM FOR HALESOWEN (Hallowe'en Special Part 2/2)
Saturday 2nd November 2024
A.I. suggests I call this blog "The Quirky Pub Culture of Yorkshire" which reassures me that I'm still marginally cleverer than a robot. I guess that comment won't age well.
Where were we? Ah yes, Old Hill, somewhere betwixt Birmingham and Dudley.
Not for the first time in my life whilst 'in drink', I get north & south mixed up and end up waiting for a bus on the wrong side of the road.
Thankfully, I've re-taken up running recently (well, jogging .... with periods of speed walking) so I'm fit enough to gallop across the road and down to the nearest stop just in the nick of time.
Halesowen is next, three ticks here, having done the still GBG listed Swan and the 'Fixed Wheel Brewery Tap' (not sure if that's been superseded by Wheelie Thirsty in Old Hill?) back in 2018 before some football match.
I didn't have particularly high hopes for Roberto's Bar, Halesowen (2789 / 5272), not because of the black fronted twinkly large windowed frontage, but because I have a natural aversion to people called Roberto. This goes back to an incident involving a Geordie pizza bloke and a League Cup tie in the depths of winter '98. This particular Roberto found out we were Hull City fans, said "your secret's safe with me lads" and then told a baying mob of Mags at the first opportunity. We sucked down the remnants of a flabby Tiramisu, and bolted quickly. No such worries today as Laura Hadland #PubWoman vouches for this particular Roberto, reassuring me he is made of the right stuff. Roberto replies to confess he's away doing important pub work elsewhere, but seems a top Roberto. Conversely, I received the lukest-warm staff welcome of all today's pubs. But I'm a sucker for Hallowe'en decor, especially when they go 'full beans' like they'd done here (two days out of date? don't care mate), and sitting in a leather armchair overlooking a spooky church with a very drinkable Stourport effort, plus reassuring nods from my fellow customer's made for a pretty good 27.5 minutes.
Tame squirrels had been a feature of my walks between pubs today, and just outside, an old bloke gets his nuts out and a squirrel runs up his trousers for a gobble! Abiding moment of today. Must be a Halesowen thing.
But it was at today's fifth pub where we really peak. Matchday in Halesowen and 'The Yeltz' were at home to those six-fingered lovelies of Spalding.
"Your micropub, is shaped like an ov-ennnn, and your bellies are yellow, and I'm yet to tick the Red Lion Hotelllll" I chanted, trying to intimidate the non-existent visiting fans.
We can see you sneaking out
Yes, the mass-migration to the ground was underway just as I enter King Edward VII, Halesowen (2790 / 5273) 2:40pm, one of my favourite times to enter a pub. Someone swigging off three quarters of a pint in one go, another bloke complaining cos their mate has gone for a last minute pee to delay the group "we'll miss kick off" "No we won't" "Hurry up!" "I would if ya stopped bellyaching!" And the inevitable mountain of empties piled high on the bar, partially hidden behind them, the heroic staff, stood in a uniform line like the last bastions on the Somme, breathing a noticeable sigh of relief, the turmoil is over .... for a couple of hours at least. I feel almost guilty disturbing the peace by asking for a pint ... almost! Titanic Cherry Porter and the sight of cobs cheers me further, one pork & stuffing left I'm told with an enthusiastic nod, and having denied myself earlier in the Old Bush Revived , I wasn't passing up the opportunity again. "Tiger" pork too. Good omen for my own team? Don't be silly! Some pub experiences can't be rushed, I give myself a good 40-45 minutes here, sinking into an armchair facing the fire in this traditional beauty, and just drinking in the calm, and the cherry.
But there was still work to do. My third and final Halesowen pub hadn't opened til 3pm, and it was the furthest from civilisation. A frustrating combination for the visiting ticker.
Striking frontage for a micropub, Crafty Pint H'ales'owen (2791 / 5274) promised much early on as this full-on cheerful barmaid asks me how I am and how's my day been. I'm just warming up to a BRAPA mini-review and she's politely nodding along when a colleague asks her a dull question about a cloth or a half pint glass, and she just flippin' wanders off, I'm actually there at the bar talking to myself! She'd not even noticed I'd asked for a pint of 'Hedgehog Logs' instead of 'Hedylogos' from Neepsend, a bonkers brilliant 5.5% double choc stout I'd rate 'beer of the day'. The punters are made of the right stuff - classic black country minerals. Is Halesowen technically black country? Must be close. One bloke actually falls asleep into his pint, he's my fave. We've all been there. Caversham, Chester, Leighton Buzzard, Norwich. Still, there was something a bit flaky / temporary about this place that had me wondering if it'll still be going strong when I tick my final GBG pub in 2044.
I challenged myself to get out of here early enough to get back to Halesowen station and towards Brum before the football throng comes out for full time, but I may've been over estimating the attendance in my mind.
With approximately an hour to go before my train back to York, we pull into Jewellery Quarter where a new tick has conveniently appeared. Time for the bonus seventh.
Past experience tells me that Everard's are hellbent on making their pubs as bland and dining as possible, and The Church, Hockley, Birmingham (2792 / 5275) was no exception. I've never particularly enjoyed a pub in this part of Brum, actually I tell I lie, I've looked at my spreadsheet and found three I did (Red Lion, Jewellers Arms & Lord Clifden) ... but I've been to half a dozen more which have been poor. A pint of Tiger came too late for Hull City, who'd been lucky to draw at home to this season's whipping boys Pompey, and surely time is running out for Tim Walter. Dad sounded fed up! And probably wished he was here instead. But he wasn't missing much, except barman is nice and there's a 'quirky' toilet sink seat you'd have to straddle. But the beer was average, atmosphere tinny, and it was just too airy-fairy glossy to remotely approve of. Thankfully, I was comfortably numb by this stage. New Street is a further walk than I was expecting, so a good excuse not to linger!
I made it home without a hitch, Everitt family bonfire the following evening, and then off to Oxford on the morning of Monday 4th, which I'll tell you about in a painful five part special, starting on Wednesday.
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