Thursday 28th November 2024
A trip across the Pennines for three ticks in Warrington on this icy morning in York. My first trip here since March 2017 when I was wowed by the Lower Angel, quietly impressed by the Tavern, and choked on a hash brown in the Looking Glass. Out in Stockton Heath, a man gave me my first ever go on a Vape, it wasn't very tasty.
Like something Bolton, Oldham, Chorley or Bury would stick in the GBG, an early opening indoor market bar kicked things off, their logo looks vaguely like my sister's boyfriend .....
Hop Emporium, Warrington (2845 / 5329) was the kind of place where you are at the bar ordering a beer and chatting about the weather before you realise what you've done. I wondered if the Mug, Mug, Mug coffee stout was a reference to punk band The Descendents song 'Coffee Mug' which starts with this 'gentle refrain' but in any case, it wor flippin' delicious. For a chilly Thursday morning, a healthy cross section of society was in (if 'in' is the phrase here, for there's no entrance door). Two woolly hatted old dears ate Paninis next to me, a mobility scooter dude parked as close to the bar as was possible, and two bearded hipsters did some man-hugging, like we were in Surbiton or Streatham. A decent level of heating (8/10) was a surprise bonus, though my Icelandic wool hat remained firmly on my bonce for the duration. Better than Oxford's Teardrop by a long chalk, if I was to compare it to my most recent marketeer.
Just across the optimistically named 'Time Square', tick two was leering back at me like your pervy Christmas Uncle Tommy.
Costello's Bar, Warrington (2846 / 5330) lacked custom. And the landlady must've been so confident she'd not encounter a soul that she sits on an outer table munching sticky chicken and rice from an indoor market bento box. I felt guilty breaking her off, but only slightly. She's not as pleased to see me as Ms Emporium in any case. I'm sticking on the dark ales, though at this juncture I'd like to say 'milds, stouts and porters are for summer too'. Dunham Massey Dark Mild at £3.45 - a barry bargain and bloomin' lovely, though I always want an Abbot Ale/Reserve in these pubs so I can wow my older audience with a lame 'Abbott in Costello' gag, ooo err. Pub temperate up to 9/10 here, allowing me to remove coat and Icelandic headwear for the first time today. When our barmaid finishes her food, she moves tables to do vital pub work on her laptop. On the rare occasions we make eye contact, smiles aren't exchanged so I look away and hum along to the dreadful M.O.R. tunes. No other customer's come in, it seems I was the anomaly I've always suspected!
Our third and final Warrington tick for the 2025 GBG is situated on the edge of town, past some horrible noisy speeding traffic. But good things come to those who wait .... well once I satisfy myself that I'm walking into the correct building!
There is no sign hanging from the outside of the pub telling me is the Albion, Warrington (2847 / 5331), just a vintage GBG window sticker and this fantastic mosaic entrance flooring. Sometimes you just know you're entering a classic. A perky old guy propping up the bar admires my Icelandic headwear, comments (I think) on the icy day, but I cannot understand a word due to (a) his lack of teeth and (b) his interesting hybrid Scouse/Cheshire/Manc accent. So I just laugh a lot and nod my head and hope he's not telling me his wife died in her sleep. Multi-roomed cavernous corridored place, there's a dishevelled dude with a Heron Foods bag behind every corner, though a posh dog did wander into 'my' room later on brandishing a Tesco one. With such a grand building comes high ceilings, and with high ceilings comes temperature issues. 5/10. But at least they are trying to do something about it by lighting the fire next to me. It 'sparks' a domestic (but not many sparks), hubbie and wife have a 'heated' exchange over the quality of the kindling (generating little 'heat'). I'm on her side. Our toothless hybrid scouser pops his head around the door to offer his two penneth worth which isn't universally appreciated. I've gone onto a paler beer here, which I'm not enjoying as much, but overall the surroundings + humanity mean this was my favourite so far.
Back in Manchester, the original plan had been to get straight back to York and have a nice leisurely afternoon / evening at home, but the Albion had inspired me .... let's crack on with my first Merseyside tick of the 24/25 campaign .......
I actually expelled a bitter laugh when I saw this next pub in the Good Beer Guide 2025 during my cross-ticking exercise. I'd been recommended it by a friendly couple in the sub-par Skew Bridge Alehouse at a time when trains were cancelled in both directions.
I actually leaned against the pub to book a taxi, with the intention of going inside whilst I wait, but the taxi was only 3 minutes away, so I never got the chance. Until now that is ......
And I'm glad I did. Commercial Hotel, Rainhill (2848 / 5332) was an Albion continuation in many ways, tiles, central corridor, etc. but a bit warmer, softer and woollier. Woolybacks? Where are they from again? Guv'nor really grabs me by the scruff of the neck, in the nicest way possible. Proud of his GBG standing, and his pub in general, imploring me to give it the old NBSS / TripAdvisor (one BRAPA blog = ten TripAdvisors). He even takes me on a brief guided of the pub, which has the locals looking around like "Who's this dickhead? A pub inspector?" After stepping over a pair of visiting greyhounds, I can finally retire to the leather benches and get stuck into my pint. Which is decent but I'm still craving the mild and stout of earlier. The locals get increasingly lairy and start picking on this poor black Santa statue. "Is it Sol Campbell?" "I'm thinking more John Barnes". "Have you lifted up his outfit to see if he's got a Micky?" Micky, this is Merseyside for willy I presume?! Or are they saying Micky Gynn might be hidden under there like the kids 'Pestilence and Want' from 1951 Scrooge? (obscure cultural reference). But my Rainhill transport curse hits again and a cancelled train means I am FORCED to stay for a second. Oh well, there are worse places to get stranded. Pub of the day, just.
With the trains back on track (hopefully literally), my final stop of the day was Patricroft, a town / 'burb which always seems to produce a new GBG entry even if there's little point.
Originally I'd planned to hop off at St Helens first but my delay / bonus Rainhill pint meant I decided against it, besides it gives a bit more time for the currently shut Royal Alfred to reopen (not happening is it?)
It wasn't to be a classic ending to the BRAPA day sadly ......
An increasingly vinegary pint of Holt's Mild saw to that. Though I was told I should only be ordering it if I can see the locals drinking it ..... and perhaps the same with the bitter too! And on reflection, these were a particularly lagery bunch of hi-vissers at the sign of the mobility scooter, Bird in Hand, Patricroft (2849 / 5333). Shame really, I do enjoy a hearty lounge-like multi-roomed box shaped Joseph Holt's gaff, of which I've been to many. Over in a peaceful side room, I thought the Mild was drinkable for the first half but it descended into despair about the moment I noticed ALL trains were buggered again, even worse than the buggeration I'd experienced back in Rainhill! Plan B then, and I manage to find a bus going to Manc, and even better, passing the front of Victoria station, thus saving me that annoying walk from Piccadilly. So every cloud really does have a silver lining, even if the rain does taste of vinegar.
It was plain sailing after that thankfully, just as well considering forthcoming Thirsty Thursdays in the Chester area would go a bit bonkers, but I'll tell you about them in January during my #WinterBreak
Have a lovely Christmas and I'll try and bang out my next blog before New Year, but if not, see you approx 00:30 NYD for the BRAPA Year End Review.
Thanks for reading, Si
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