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Writer's pictureSi Everitt

BRAPA COUNTDOWN .... KENT, LONDON, LEICS, NOTTS : PART 3/3 (Pubs 7-1)


Grand finale. Let's go!


Impossible to rank these 7, I don't think any of them are in contention for my overall 'BRAPA pub of the year' but if someone mentioned them, I would make an interested noise of approval from the back of my throat.


7. Lord Aberconway, Liverpool Street



I walked straight past this hidden scaffold-clad gem hiding just yards from the entrance to Liverpool Street station. Expectations were low, but wow, it had booths, multi-levels, ornateness, and it had Plum Porter, Old Peculiar and Old Rosie. This pub wasn't messing about, son. Plum Peculiar anyone? Half n half, tot of Rosie in the top? I chicken out of asking. Maybe just as well. I spin around looking for a seat and a couple with West Yorkshire eyes tell me they can budge up, but I decline cos a booth has just come free. Downside is a tattoo necked dude prowling like a caged tiger, hands free headset, complaining to a customer service team. He's actually really nice! And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Axholme Rob and Punk Mate come in. Always imagined finally meeting Rob in a two-bit North Lincs village, but here we were! 22+ pubs on his amazing piece of paper, I could never! Amazing effort. As for me, it is only my Plum Porter stopping this grand pub from making the top 5. It kept repeating on me, like someone had dropped a killer peanut in it.





6. New Inn, Sandwich



There's something magical about walking into a pub, 11am on a weekday in winter, and seeing a healthy hoard of locals huddled around the bar (I won't call them 'blockers' because they turned to greet me, smile and have spatial awareness). The barman is equally hospitable, and I think I earn brownie points as I get a respectful nod when ordering the Gadds' No.5. Do I wanna be in their gang? Yes! Talking of brownies, I was in urgent need of 'big toilet' and I'm delighted to find fairly clean lockable cubicle. Without going into detail, I didn't ask too many questions of the loo bowl, but the flush mechanism is incredibly weak and even after three tries, I'm not totally satisfied! Back in the pub, I sup my wonderful pint guiltily, smile a lot, even more locals stream in, including a tropical shirted 'Bunny' from Harry & Paul. Probably a quare. Back to the loo to improve the earlier situation further, before a quick dash to the bus stop.



5. Chequers, Swinford



This pub looked even more #ShutPubAlert than the nearby Cherry Tree in Catthorpe, on a day of chunky closed doors, but to my surprise, I turn it and we're catapulted into a warm, joined up one roomer with a few old gents watching Maidstone stuff it up Ipswich. Doom, Bass or Landlord. Looks like it has been an unchanged line-up for years. But the Bass bubbles up and dies, nooooo, so it is all aboard the Timmy T. train. Like me, Dad just cannot work out which football man of yesteryear the bronze statue is meant to be. Then it occurs to us, IT IS THE GUV'NOR. We'd been encouraged to say hello to him, long standing Brian here for 34 years, by the lovely man from the Cherry Tree. Sadly, Brian is less complimentary about the CT, but he tells us the statue was commissioned by Sky/BT when Leicester won the Premier league and this place was big news. He had to go to Pinewood studios to get his measurements taken(!) and Robbie Savage unveiled it. Amazing what you find out by going to pubs!




4. Butcher's Arms, Herne



With opening hours of 5:30-8pm Wed-Fri, it is fair to say the trailblazing original micropub is being run as a hobby these days, if it was ever anything else! And even these times weren't adhered to on our visit. Me and Richard Pitcher are stood in the chilly wind outside from 5:30-45 trying to convince ourselves that a few more fairy lights have lit up inside since we arrived. Eventually, we give it up as a bad job and trudge back to his car disconsolately. "I'll drive past it one last time just in case, so keep your eyes peeled" says RP, more in hope than expectation. But as we turn the corner, well bugger me it is all lit up and a 'Micro Pub Open' sign is on the pavement outside! We laugh a bitter laugh and Richard spins back to the car park and we trot back down. The place is already filling up with the same grey haired elderly local man x12 drinking bitter by the jug. Intimate doesn't cover it and we do amazingly to keep a bench throughout. Main man Martin is in South Africa, so stand in man tries the trad. grumpy guv'nor schtick but I see through it, a sweetheart really. Cash only but no one wants to take my money til I force it on them! The Iron Pier stout (in Bass glass) is insanely good quality. 5*. And the locals love the BRAPA concept. We also learn the new opening time is 6pm! "Any later and they'll be calling last orders whilst they are pulling your first pint" I whisper to Richard, not the kind of place where whispering is easy. But despite all the trials and tribulations, once you're in and settled this place has genuine quality.




3. Stilton Cheese, Somerby



Ah, the mid afternoon closure. Nearly 10 years into BRAPA and I'm still no closer to understanding the machinations behind it. Only once have I heard a last orders dong, and that dong was years ago in the St Vincent Arms, Sutton upon Derwent. This place closes 3pm, even on a Saturday, tsk, and being 2:32pm, I'm getting paranoid about being denied my tick, especially when Daddy BRAPA starts fumbling around in the car cos he's lost something (the above photo was taken on the way out because I strode ahead). The bar area is a mass of jolly locals deep in drink, I peer through the gap, and get a Citra because whenever I swerve it, I get punished by the Oakham gods! Dad is soon on the scene unable to fathom the lack of stilton on all menu items. A local tells him about a stilton soup that doesn't exist, and when I return from the loo / admiring the selection of historic GBGs, same bloke has his phone out and is showing Dad photos of his brother's classic 70's cars! We cannot escape to the furthest corner quickly enough! My Citra goes down well, time progresses as it tends to, and suddenly about 15:05, I look up and we are the last two people in the pub. No last orders dong, no 'TIME AT THE BAR' cry, no passive aggressive lights turned off, chairs put on tables, outside doors opened. The locals just knew instinctively their time was up, and scatter like Granny's ashes over Bempton cliffs. A relationship obviously built on trust and respect. Organic. Perhaps the most fascinating detail of pub culture to me.



2. Bluebell Inn, Lound



"Eeey up, you can tell we've got a bit more northern" observes Daddy BRAPA out of the corner of his mouth, surveying the lived-in no nonsense village scene here in North Notts. He is a man who knows his north from his south, his east from his west, his left from his right, and on today, his 77th birthday, it was all about making northerly progress towards York so he could arrive back home for his aubergine surprise at a reasonable hour. There is a mystical Celtic ring in the head of my beer, but it tastes ok. The carpet, fire and dog's bottom all scream 'the olden days'. At the bar, Lurch from the Addams Family declares that he's been sat on cold concrete steps outside a courtroom all day, and up til now, has only had a pint of Guinness to show for it. A fine anecdote befitting a fine pub.





1.Red Lion, Milstead




I could come here 99 further times and not find the pub as magical as I did on this dark Thursday night. Richard Pitcher, the true man of Kent, had heroically driven us down a myriad of country lanes to get to this rural outlier. I remember Frank Skinner's football trivia poser "When did Hull go down as a result of Man Utd beating Inter Milan 2-0 in the Champions League?" as Richard points out the grand property where Rod fell to his death, adjusting his aerial on the roof. The pub is inevitably dining, but is nicely segregated from the dimly lit main bar area, electric atmosphere, glowing fire, incredible Goachers Imperial Stout, and to top it off, the most giant bowl of complimentary crisps I've ever seen! And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Richard reveals he isn't a cheese & onion fan, so I get to scoff the lot myself. Perfect pub experience.





And that's a (b)wrap!


Join me on Tuesday when I well tell you about my latest attempts to mop up Merseyside as I tackle six of my remaining nine pubs.


Have a good week, Si

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Martin Taylor
Martin Taylor
04.02.2024 г.

It's a good job the beer is secondary in these pubs as that pint in :Lound looks dreadful, like the stuff you get in Surrey diners south of Guildford.


What sort of "hobby" do you get someone else to do for you, like at the Butchers ?

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Si Everitt
Si Everitt
15.02.2024 г.
Отговаряне на

I sometimes wish I could get someone else to do my West Wales and Somerset ticks for me! Joking of course, probably.

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