BRAPA COUNTDOWN .... KENT, LONDON, LEICS, NOTTS : PART 2/3 (Pubs 13-8)

Evening folks and welcome back to the Good Beer Guide pubs visited on my epic southern venture last week.

This lot were difficult to rank, in fact there's nothing much between them and the eventual winners.

Let's kick off, and head back in rural Kent last Thursday afternoon.

13. Five Bells, Eastry

With the hourly village bus to Sandwich hurtling past, this lumpy village alive-hole had me panicking in mid-afternoon closure paranoia - not one of the doors at the front were open, and not one light shone bright. But sneaking through a cat-flap around the back next to the kitchen takes me into what at first whiff is suffocating stuffy geriatric dining hell. The Musket Ball Puller tastes like all Musket beers, southern bitter, and I'm wondering if the Black Sheep would've been a better option. And yet a 7.5/10 hotel style carpet, bristling fire and happy selection of local drunk oddities mean this squid game of a pub hooks me with it's tentacles and drags me under. Diners disperse, a Mum and daughter come in for food, upset to find they've missed the boat. They are encouraged, however, to return for a very popular clairvoyant evening, which should really have garnered the sarcastic response it deserved.

12. Sun, Faversham

My mini-holiday started on Wednesday night here in one of Kent's prettier towns. Unlike my rubbish Bear experience two year's back, this was quality Sheppy Neamo on it's home patch. Sad to see Bishop's Finger turned around, but I'm northern enough to still get a twinge of excitement in the groin when I see Spitfire on cask. Well kept. Hoppy, wooden, creaky, wheezy, ancient, and that was just the punters heading through to an out of sight back room where some bagpipers play a three minute gig (that's more than enough bagpiping for me), to rapturous applause. Burns Night had come 24 hrs early in Fav. They all eff off immediately, no post-bagpipe drink. My barman is brought a small red pudding in a dish, I say it looks nice, and the beanpole chef smiles like he's never been paid a compliment before. First GBG appearance since 2008, and on this evidence, a welcome returnee.

11. Carlton Tavern, Kilburn Park

Rebuilt brick by brick after an evil prick by prick knocking down incident, I scrutinise the building as best as I could after 4 strong pints of dark stuff and couldn't see one gap. Barmaid is delightful and forces tasters on me, a stout and London Lush. She even tells me that my face reacts better to the 'Lush' so I should go for that! I sit at the end of a long bench, beer incredibly good but I must confess much of my initial joy is diluted as London suburban familiarity kicks in. A couple order fish n' chips. It doesn't take long to arrive but she's on her laptop and he's left the pub to do 'some business' so their plates are just sat there getting cold for about twenty mins! Gives me anxiety. When he does return, he accuses them of changing the fish type, he prefers the old one. London. Funny ole' place innit?

10. Black Lion, Kilburn

One of the most astonishing pub interiors I've witnessed in my pub-ticking life, this GBG debutant had me gawping around ceiling and walls for the first ten minutes before I finally remember this pint of soupy Poinsettia Glasshouse wasn't going to drink itself. Shame! Tough going. Young Liam Rosenior behind the bar had me pinned as a CAMRA member before I'd even opened my mouth. As Friday evening kicks in, the place fills up, more's the pity. Like so many historic London pubs, they speak for themselves and don't need a mass of punters to improve them (same can't be said for most places across the UK). It is a transient atmosphere, perhaps no surprise being on the busy Kilburn High Rd, and soon toddlers, buggies and gin Mummies are all vying for position. A brief chat with a toothless Jamaican and his Irish stepdaughter offers hope, but here's proof that just because you are ornate National Inventory, it is no guarantee of overall pub 'experience' greatness. Still, a must visit.

9. Cherry Tree , Catthorpe

Hallelujah and praise the lord for Daddy BRAPA, who picks me up in Rugby and drives us to this awkward village on the doorstep of the M6/M1 crossing, nowhere near a bus route. A pub has never felt so much like a community run local despite not actually being one. Looks shut when isn't. Limited opening hours, airy olde farmhouse feel, one wall is quirky insipid yellow and human zebra, rest at pains to recapture the traditional. Oatmeal stout from Hinckley is hairs-on-the-chest stuff, but I should've gone with the Dow Bridge brewed in the village. Colin gets a taster. Lucky boy. Guv'nor is the decisive factor, waiting patiently for Dad to finish a breakfast anecdote about Mummy BRAPA eating half her beans on toast in the Middlesmoor Crown, before giving us a potted pub history and directions to Swinford. The BRAPA handshake follows, which I don't just dole out to any old staffer.

8. Craft Beer Co. , Aldgate

Obviously I had an idea which pubs were on my hit-list for this long weekend, and a pre-conceived notion about those I'd enjoy more than others. Not for a SECOND had I thought that this Mon-Fri opener in the shadow of the Gherkin would provide my 'moment of contentment' of the week. I just felt SO happy here and I've been to other Craft Beer houses and they are all dull as a dishwasher. I'm not claiming this was 'cosy' but it was certainly a vast improvement. And the 'Fairytale of Brew York', first time I've seen it on cask was magical. 'Yes' by McAlmont and Butler has never sounded punker, and even snoggy nervy couple with hopes of pizza and Prosecco who almost sat on my face couldn't dampen my spirits. Oddly great (the pub experience, not the almost face sitting).

And there we have it!

Join me at the slightly earlier time of 7pm tomorrow for the January MONTH END REVIEW. Then I'll return on either Friday or Sunday for the final part of this.

Si