BRAPA .... BACK IN KENT : (ST) PETER'S, PAUL (G) AND MARY (TOURTEL)

Saturday 15th March 2025

Could 2025 finally be the year I complete Kent? Lord knows, I've been trying for long enough (well 2022 to be precise but it feels like 2015).

With 25 pubs remaining, I set off towards Thanet (two ticks) and Canterbury (three) for a rare train day with the ultimate Man of Kent, Paul Godden, as I normally rely on his car to get me around awkward villages which sound made-up to annoy me like Rolvenden Layne, Blean, Staplestreet and St Mary in the Minge.

Eleventh hour drama at BRAPA towers as Daddy B. makes a last gasp decision to head off to watch the Tigers at West Brom, so we say farewell at St Pancre-arse, 'see ya in the Parcel Yard 8pm!'

The fast train whizzes me through Canterbury, and we stop at a new station, Thanet Parkway, built in the middle of nowhere presumably with the idea that loads of homes and shops are going to spring up around it. It is very 'black'. You can't see past it. It couldn't be less Great Malvern. But Paul later assured me it looks prettier at night when lit up with little lights.

I arrive at Broadstairs 11:03am, our first pub opens at 11:30am. Perilously poised on 2,999 pubs, so this will represent two thirds of the GBG. Landmark moment!

My stubbed toe (which I don't like to talk about) has me hobbling towards the pub which I reach far too early .....

..... So I decide to explore the St Peter's area, but all I see is old women with tiny dogs having shouty conversations across the street. My phone pings and it is Paul. He's already inside with a drink, it is only 11:20, what the eff? Quick hobble back to pub!

Four Candles Alehouse, St Peter's (3000 / 5485), what a moment! Did they open early because of the BRAPA landmark. Hell no! Guv'nor was up early, so thought he may as well, apologises for still being in his pyjamas which is fine by me, I'd rather than open pyjama pub than a shut tweed cravat one. Paul is in chipper mood too having had a great week, greets me with a hug, our third Kent day together and there may be one or two Cotswold ones to come this summer so watch this space. I'd noticed the sign on the side of the pub proclaiming it 'the smallest brewhouse in the country'. 'Yeah, but I wonder what it is really!' replied one of my disbelieving followers! I go for the session pale (long day today!) and for a homebrew it is a good drop. Typical Kent micro, no bar, pretty basic, but nicely done and homely as it could be. Solid start.

Ivor Panda here too, as was Kale Joseph hiding somewhere, but like his Hull City namesake, is finding the step up to Championship Mascot much harder than League One.

Six minute hobble to pub two, I tell Paul about my toe woes (even though I don't like to talk about it) but good news, well not really, he's got a bad back so we can be slow walking invalids together.

I've ticked the Royston, Broadstairs a year or two back, but Paul (a Kent ticker, not a full UK ticker .... yet) needs it so I'm more than happy to return. Loved it, and today was just as good. Top tier. Incredible beer. I must do Trip Advisor review as asked. I only have a half to be sensible (long day .... I keep saying that), we chat with our host Ashley about topics as broad as taking your driving test in Broadstairs in the fog, to David Jason. Eclectic but very Kent. He best not die soon now I've mentioned him in a blog (it happens).

Time to catch the Loop bus towards Ramsgate. Dumpton Park to be precise, which made a couple snigger immaturely on a train last time I was here because it has 'dump' in the name. Seriously, they were both about 50! Hang on, I'm 45. I keep thinking I'm still about 30.

Lovely location down a sloping side street, Honeysuckle Inn, Ramsgate (3001 / 5486) is, as a GBG compiler might say, 'a welcome addition to Ramsgate's burgeoning real ale scene'. "Last time I was in here was 1993" announces Paul proudly as we reach the bar. Barman eyes him like 'don't come in here with your ancient 20th century bullshit' and I say "I bet you weren't even born then" which he admits to be the case. Pleasant chatty guy in reality #TheKidsAreAlright And most of the pubs I discuss with Paul today were first visited by him during Italia '90 so this was positively recent! Pleasant kinda pub too, lacking in some departments, not a patch on the Artillery or the Montifiore but like the Red Lion in last year's book, nice to see them sticking a non-micro in Thanet, even though Thanet does micros better than anywhere else in the UK. Despite my earlier out of character sensible beer choices, I've gone for a bruising Velvet Raven here which tastes even stronger than its 5.2% but might've put a seventh hair on my six hair chest. Ramsgate is the best pub town in Kent? Or would you go Tunny Wells? Or maybe Fav? Tricky. Maidstone even? What a pub county.

Back on the Loop bus, which meanders painfully towards Ramsgate station. Gonna miss this train! But then a chink of light. Train saying delayed by five mins. Just might give us enough time .... we dash through the underpass, through the toe n back pain barrier, but it departs just as we reach the doors! Agh.

40 mins to wait, ugh! After a wee or two (involving a station key even more annoying than the one in Malvern last week) and a snack on the sunny platform, we finally make our way to Canterbury West.

Not a bad pub town last time I was here, but certainly not Ramsgate levels despite the 'best' efforts of Thomas Tallis, New Inn, Eight Bells, Foundry, Unicorn and Bell & Crown, but I was surprised to learn I'd have THREE new ones to do in 2025- probably one of those moments where I realised the churn was going to be cruel #CruelChurn

Been a while since our last 'BRAPA has been wronged' story. Monument, Canterbury (3002 / 5487) actually felt like style over substance even without the beer bollocks that'd follow. Paul tells me it's a big student area down the far end of this road, and yes that stacks up, student pub felt about right. In fact, one of my top followers wrote "a student won a million and reopened the pub." In fairness, they had a delicious clock that looked like a giant pocket watch, and a basil green bar front which had me craving a Bruschetta, which was a very Canterbury-esque fleeting thought. I'd ordered a Canterbury Ales guest, gosh it had that dries your mouth 'appley' off taste which became undrinkable. Buoyed by Paul's encouragement and the fact it never remotely cleared, I go to return it. "I can't try it myself cos I'm gluten intolerant" says our barmaid in another Canterbury-esque quote of ages. She refers the matter, but not the physical pint, to an 'out of shot' colleague. Then I receive the classic reply "we've pulled several pints of it today and no one else has complained!" because as we all know, cask beer remains the same forever(!) But at least she offers to change it 'if I'm not enjoying it' which I think I've made abundantly clear by now. Dark Star Hophead. Nectar. And if Dark Star Hophead in 2025 tastes like prime Fyne Jarl, then you know you were drinking shite before. In happier news, Paul has this amazing pocket pen, and I love pens, stationery in general really, so he shows me this incredible website he gets them from - cultpens.com , I get engrossed, he even says he'll buy me one for my birthday, he's so kind! Anyway, when I next look up, the offending beer has been turned around and they are desperately pulling it through, telling one enquiring lady that another one will be on shortly. Considering our proximity to the bar, especially my slow smiley walk right along the front of it to and from the Gents, you think I might've at least got a 'looks like you were right after all BRAP lad' but no, thine eyes are firmly averted. Ha! I still felt vindicated. I really should've said something on the way out, like Dad's classic 'enjoy your fart arse ponce burger' mic drop moment in Bury's Clarence, not like I'm ever coming back is it?

Paul's back pills - new mascot?

Looks like Ivor knew it was off even before I'd had a sip #PubPanda

You see, it is never so much the being served a bad beer that sticks in the craw. It is the manner in which it is dealt with. Look at Pot Hole in Allestree when my mate Steve H. returned his. Guv'nor later came over thanking him for bringing it to his attention and not suffering through it because it is important he knows these things - that interaction plus the follow up BRAPA chat made it an unlikely pub of the day.

We had another pub close to Canterbury West to tick off.

Despite the side street location, cracking inn sign and Paul's exceptional seated pose with echoes of Ian Sutton of Blackburn fame, I had one immediate concern before entering Thomas Becket, Canterbury (3003 / 5488) .... can you guess what it is? Doggy cask .... you just know the pubs going to be on the flouncy side. Don't get me wrong, this boisterous trad. city centre boozer was low lit, it had age and character. Sadly it also had Six Nations. The bane of my 2025 ticking life so far. Haunting me. From East Aberthaw to Sutton Coldfield to Canterbury. Feels never ending. England v Wales. Hang on, why do I secretly want Wales to win? Well, I love an underdog. And Wales are decidedly shit this year, an actual Rugby Union fan would surely tell you that. When I was in school, they were tearing it up! 15 players all called Geraint Jenkins rushing about bumping into other players. Lovely. And my Glamorgan epic holiday in Feb made me part Welsh. I can't deny it. We can't sit at this table for long. Lottie Bond has it reserved. She sounds very 'this pub'. If you go on Soundcloud, you can find a song possibly about her - see below. Perhaps summing up the pub experience best was the beer - Parkin Porter. Sounded incredible. Treacle & ginger porter. Yes please. Love the cake on Bonfire Night. But it never quite nailed it. Though when I think of Tatton, I think of that insipid pale they put in every Cheshire micro, so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. Quite a beer bloggy for me this one, I apologise.

Time to walk towards Canterbury East where our final pub was, and the best station for Paul G's journey home to Fav. Longer way around for me back to London Victoria , but never mind!

En route, we see this which was great news for my blog title .....

I'd told Paul way back in the Four Candles that a working title for my blog was Peter, Paul and Mary based. I had the St Peter, I had the Paul, I just hoped we bumped into a Mary. And if not, someone who is hairy, scary or wary.

So to have the Rupert Bear creator being born and dying here was perfect maybe not for her but never mind. Not a fan of RB growing up though I did dress like him on occasions on circa 2002-07 Morecambe & Blackpool punk festivals.

About two thirds of the way into our Two Sawyers, Canterbury (3004 / 5489) 'experience', Paul says "I'll have to come back to this one I think" as though it had passed him by, he'd expected more, and he thought it might be better with a clearer head. I might be putting words into his virtual mouth, but I felt much the same. The Vale VPA was one of today's stronger pints, despite being served in those horrid dimpled jugs. Reminds me I need to return to Aylesbury some point soon. Can you guess how excited I am out of ten? Even more reasons to be cheerful though was the significance of pub 3,004. I'd finished the 2024 GBG on 3,003 so now I am in credit for the first time. Now the task is to remain above it when the the 2026 comes out in September. Fun times!

Great day. 20 Kent pubs left! Maybe not the strongest pub selection judging by Kent's high standards. But still better than many.

Train back to London is painful due to the many out of service train loos / Big John taking an hour long poo And it was all of 7:45pm when I arrived back in KX. Annoying wait for my Parcel Yard ESB despite the pub looking quite empty on arrival. Too many plastic Paddy's asking for Baby Guinness shots.

And then Daddy BRAPA arrives (well he'd actually been lurking in a side room I'd never sat in before), jubilant from a great 1-1 draw at WBA, brandishing sausage rolls and Oasees for the train home. Amazing stuff .....

A points failure at Grantham made for a tough journey home, booked on the last train at 9pm meant 'they had to get us home'. Anyone travelling north of York was put on a bus or in taxis. And we could thank our fucky stars that the Carabao Cup final wasn't until Sunday so the train was drunken Geordie free. Phew! In about 00:25, I slept til lunchtime, and was tired all day!

Join me Fri or Sun (or Mon) when I'll tell you about what happened on my Thirsty Thursday up north. Blogs up to date as I write this, for a few hours.....

Sweet dreams, Si