Before we get onto Great Yarmouth, I was roaming the seedy streets of Lowestoft in search of my third and final tick on a grey Tuesday evening in June.
Triangle Tavern had delivered. Stanford Arms was also superb. Could this next one provide Lowey with an unlikely hattrick of GBG joy?
No it couldn't, not even close I'm sorry to say. A shame because who doesn't love a sweeping estate boozer in the backstreets? Especially one with an 'American Party' raging. Yee-haw, welcome to the Norman Warrior, Lowestoft (2551 / 4446), where the best decision I make is getting that most authentic of all U.S. cuisine, a blueberry muffin. Like apple pie, guns and Pabst. Staff seem nice, as do a trio of old blokes on high stools sat in the dark outside the loos, but the ale is vinegar so I return it. Never usually easy returning bad beer, but it is here, the staff don't question it, they don't even break stride. Could it be possible it was TOO easy? The large back room is lovely, curved upholstered bench seating. But my replacement pint is pure lemony chemically antiseptic like when they've been cleaning the lines. Yuck! Can't bring myself to take this one back, too awkward, so I have to 'plant pot' it (in this case, leave it on the table and sneak out). Lovely Blueberry Muffin to take the taste away. Their Facebook page shows them embracing the American theme, spray tanned barmaids dressed up as Barbie. I'd rather have good beer sold by a bunch of Quasimodo harridans.
A pub I could've really enjoyed
I pop into the always pre-emptive Lowestoft 'Spoons Joseph Conrad for a swift 'arf. Better stuff, soured only by idiot queuing which this time is definitely the fault of the queuer and is becoming a 'Spoons epidemic.
Then I miss the train which was entirely my fault. It had been a day of highs and lows, but it wasn't ending well. But my consolation prize was a much needed Green Jack 'Ripper' in the Triangle Tavern. 8.5% you love to see it. Who knew getting stuck in Lowestoft could be such fun? I couldn't feel my fingers by the end of it!
More frustration the following morning also on the east coast, just north of Great Yarmouth this time in a seaside hotspot called California, to keep the American theme going.
Bustling but sleepy, it felt like a prime tourist resort on this warm Wednesday lunchtime, so it seems incomprehensible it didn't open until 4pm! Shut pub alert indeed, grrr.
I take the open topped bus back into Yarmouth (what a lovely bus driver for once!) and then, on seeing a ghoulish green ghost train 'Spook Palace', plus some shiny amusement arcades, I regress back to my childhood and totally forget I'm here for pub ticking! Especially when a Jamaican Onslow blares 'Annie I'm Not Your Daddy' out of a Ford Cortina window. They know how to live down here.
Think it is about 1:30pm when I finally snap out of it and remember my true calling, time to get into those Yarmouth backstreets .....
I needed a morale booster, and I found it here at the Blackfriars Tavern, Great Yarmouth (2552 / 4447). Low key, calm and serene, and that's just the guv'nor. The Mr Winter's is fresh on, and by gum, that was a much needed high-end pint. There's a sociable little cluster around the bar, a lady from Cromer seems to be holding court. I'm not in a massively sociable mood, just want to sit quietly somewhere, but I make a few Cromer pub noises, reveal I'm from York, which causes a man to lean forward and say he hates York cos he fainted the last time he was there! I need to find more York haters on my travels, far more interesting / challenging than the usual trotted out "ahhhh wot a luvly citeh" comments I hear from Botallack to Brora. This pub is not only traditional, but interesting too. A different board / pub game on each table - chess, cards, bar billiards, checkers, shut that bloody box, you name it, it was here. Huge glass cabinet of Belgian brews around the corner. I've just started giving the Belgians a cautious sip on my #SiFiPieFi nights to this interested me. Cromer lady finds me hiding in the back room, so we have another 5 min natter before I decide it is time I pushed on, my faith in pubs restored.
And it was to get even better at my next pub, sometimes in ticking you are walking towards a pub and you just know ......
Contender for pub of the holiday, Red Herring , Great Yarmouth (2553 / 4448) had it all - well, if you have the same taste in pubs as me, which probably means you are an old bugger at heart. In fact, if you had a 'Codgers Pub Bingo Card' you'd be shouting 'Full House!' quicker than CAMRA would shout 'Abbots Ale? Yummy my second favourite'. (That was desperately shoehorned topical humour). Thanks. So let's tick off the bingo card. Mobility Scooter outside? Check. 9/10 carpet? Check. Friendly guv'nor with giant mug of tea revealing his favourite football team? Check. Everyone embraces Colin because he's 'one of them' and no one takes themselves too seriously? Check. Blind Sooty charity box? Kerching! Scampi and Bacon Fries for nourishment? Nice! A line of bald men on bench seating lining the back wall having a laugh and a few jars? Check. Coat hooks on the bar? Yes. T-Rex on the jukebox. Gotta be a sign. Toby jugs hanging from the ceiling? Check. 5.8% ale to knock my socks off on top form? Winner! Probably more I've missed. The presennce of a moth eaten elderly grumpy pub cat was perhaps all that was lacking. Or a lazy lolloping black lab. But that's not to say they didn't exist. "Nice to have met you ... hang on, you DO have Colin safe don't you?" asks our Villa supporting hero as I leave. The mark of a great man and a great pub.
Considering I'd been underwhelmed by the Troll Cart and the King's Arms on my February visit here, Yarmouth had really turned it around today. With two ticks still to go, could it keep up the good form?
Find out next time in the ongoing tales of BRAPA, hopefully Friday, but Sunday if not. A month and 4 days behind now on the blogging, but I am trying to catch up, honest guv. Right, back to virtual Dynamo Dresden.
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