Thursday 27th February 2025
Today's BRAPA star guest and chauffeur Ian 'BeyondThePale' Sutton meets me off the train at the station, 12:11pm, and asks me if this is the first time I've seen sun in a cloudless Accrington sky.
It is a good point. In fact, a better meteorologist than me would inform you that we have to go way back to 16th July 1854 when this phenomena last occurred. That is a BRAPA fact.
We find Ian's car nestled into Tesco's fancy modern carpark (a word always best said in an East Lancs accent) and we set off in search of pub one. Located West enough for Ian to deem this the acceptable face of Lancs.
Royal, Great Harwood (2984 / 5469)
Colin the Cauliflower is going grey, but aren't we all? And as such, I suspect he's not as 'striking' to publicans and punters as he was in his bright white youth. But he did his job here. "Should I even ask?" the bar blockers call over at the sight of him. So I explain BRAPA and soon the shaggy haired barman is highlighting the pub's entry in the Good Beer Guide. I shouldn't be surprised. It was at Great Harwood's 1B Tap five years ago this month that I experienced one of the warmest welcomes in BRAPA past, including an impromptu cellar tour and I was sent away with a Young's Special pump clip as a souvenir. Before long, the landlady enters and what a switched on lass she is. Ian collects beermats, a hobby dating back to his school days where his class had to bring a 'collection' in. Ian didn't collect owt, so was given his Grandad's 1930's beermats. And it has spiralled from there! Our guvnoress goes downstairs and returns with some Whitworth ones he needs. We learn that whilst real ale is the best seller here, she'd never even put a mid-brown coloured beer on, let alone a stout, as they just don't sell. And yet, most popular keg drink? Guinness. And not a result of kids splitting the G. Sound like a mixed up bunch to me! Amidst all this fabulous bonhomie, there's an elephant in the room I'd failed to address whilst on this convivial crest of a wave, and it tastes slightly vinegary. I suspect a case of 'first pint not pulled through', but it barely registered at the time amidst all the positivity.
Time for Ian to take a deep breath, put on a brave face, put on some lotion to stop his skin itching, as we drive out to the Burnleh / very East Lancs area (or 'Dingle Country' as he calls it) for my other three ticks.
Has a street name ever looked more E.Lancs than this?
And it wouldn't be an Ian car day without him posing from a seated position .....
Trawden Arms, Trawden (2985 / 5470) is a community owned effort, not that this guarantees it a bonus point based on BRAPA history of such ventures. It was 'okay'. Ian seems slightly more impressed than me. Signage / frontage / font struck me as insipid for a part of the world known for its vim, vigour and vibrancy. Inside, slightly better, some decent tiling but still a touch too pale and pastel. A dark Black Sheep ale I've never seen before ('Fresh Start') is a pleasure to drink after the last one. There's fussy miniature schnauzers, a bald lad saying 'ow do', and a gurgling baby in a push chair. I guess it offers a glimpse into Trawden life, but it was only the humour in the gents that really showed off the pubs true personality .... poor Bob!
My final two pubs were both listed under 'Burnley' but not particularly central before you get too excited that this town is going to be 2025's answer to Sheffield, Bermondsey and Ramsgate.
Hang on, I recognise this area a bit too well. It was only two years back that Ian drove me to the Craven Heifer (Briercliffe) just down the road ....
And the Commercial, Burnley (2986 / 5481) did feel like a case of squad rotation rather than a tactical masterclass on the part of the local CAMRA compliers but I'm sure it is more technical than that - we'll given them the Ruben Selles benefit of the doubt. Quite far east to be seeing a Hyde's pub, and where the Trawden Black Sheep wasn't as rare as I'd imagined, this 'Genius Stout' certainly was brand new, and a top drop, even if it did taste more like a mild. Hyde's pubs are a mixed bag, at worst pale airy diners, at best balls-to-the-wall roadside boozers with 9/10 dartboard setups like here. Ian enquires as to beermats again, and absolutely nothing else happened, it happily chugged through the motions like Fred Dibnah on a steam drawn butter pie.
But some pubs are never in danger of passing you by, like this next one, today's last. And isn't it generally a good sign when there is no sign? 'Is this the place?' asks Ian, as we drive a lap around this huge austere looking building. We eventually pull in and check Google Maps. 'Must be!' we conclude 'look like a pub!'
A quick toilet trip is my introduction to life at the Lane Ends Hotel, Burnley (2987 / 5483). The bloke next to me at the piss trough pulls his top up to just underneath his man titties and slaps his belly whilst humming a little ditty. I did wash my hands, but it was a hurried escape. There is a handpump lurking, hurrah, Bowland Boxer. Our leopard printed hostess seems terrified she's not topped my pint up sufficiently. I tell it looks fine. 'Really?' 'Yes, really.' I ask Ian if she sounds slightly Scouse, but he reckons probably Wigan area. The carpet is a funky 9/10 and men stare from a distance. A shaggy little white dog with no tail dashes around the pub, its lead dragging along the floor. At one point it stops outside the ladies loos, waits patiently, and someone holds the door open patiently to allow it to go through. It reminds me of those Wild West saloons from my #WWWSI (Wine, Western, Wotsits Staying In) nights of 2020 lockdown. But no gunfight yet. Our tailless friend reappears as Ian's highlighting my GBG, and I'm glad he's with me as a witness because some pubs feel like weird fever dreams. Pubs like this are why every UK pub should be included in future GBGs, in the interest of completeness. I'm off to pass a motion before bedtime.
Train delayed at B. Manc. Rd but I found a semi-private peeing place, then the train quickened up so all good. Thanks to Ian, always a fun day out with him, and hope to see him again in coming months for the three North Yorks ticks I need to do closest to Lancs.
And I'll be back either tomorrow or Friday to tell you what's going down in Chesham. Two parter maybe. I'll sleep on it.
Si
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