BRAPA epic catch up part 4/14 - Bexleyheath to Market Weighton via Barnoldswick
11 more pubs to tell you about, I'm cooking on gas, I'd be only two months behind if I get this one out before 5th Jan 23:59, shame I'm going for a Vegan Chinese meal isn't it?
So, it was getting late on Saturday 29th October, and I took the always difficult decision to swerve a relaxing ESB for two rushed pub ticks.
Not sure what Bexleyheath CAMRA were thinking a year ago, they put in two pubs which were quite simply dreadful in every department. Thankfully, they'd seen the light and binned them off for superior micros.
Long Haul, Bexleyheath (2163 / 4067)
That photo didn't look blurry on the night, honest. This was pub six though. The landlady is lovely and recommends me the 'Bipperty Bopperty' because she likes saying it. In truth, I think she'd noticed I was at 'hazy simpleton' stage of the day and felt obliged to walk me through the whole process. "I'm sure those two won't mind if you sit on the end of their table" she says of two bald Santa types when she sees me scanning the room for a nice low seat. The Santa's don't mind, they barely break stride in their high intensity discussion about elves and Blitzen's poorly hoof. I've placed my pint inadvertently on a small raised screw head in the table. Heroic hostess sweeps over to the rescue - "best move that, you don't want to spill your pint!" In all my 4,067 pubs, this is probably the first time the staff have moved my pint to a safer location! I'd really been put in 'hypercare' here, top staffing.
I race across Bexleyheath. One more pub and need to get back to King's Cross, this is gonna be tight! I'm temporarily scared by a bloke dressed as a Vampire emerging from a leafy cul-de-sac - of course, Hallowe'en party weekend!
Pub comes into view, this'd need to be a quick 25 minutes.
Kentish Belle, Bexleyheath (2164 / 4068)
Call it seventh pint of the day lack of observation, but for all my general sense that there was something special about this one, I couldn't put my finger on why. Staff were nice, but with less hypercare. The lighting was dimmed, which I approved of. The customer's weren't plentiful, but seemed lively. And according to Twitter, a disagreement with CAMRA had been the reason for the recent GBG omission, rather than anything beer related, and it was a supremely Fyne pint of Castle Black, neckable just when I needed it. I get seated with two young chaps who may've been called Holly n Phil, unlike the Santa's these two are very chatty - they are on holiday from Birchington (wherever the dickens that is) and by the end of my 25 mins with them, I've agreed to go on a two week holiday there! Oops, I hope it has GBG pubs. Top place this.
Old man talks to pumpkin, ghoul looks in at me 'The Fog' style, must be Hallowe'en Saturday
To cut a long story short, I made my train home, so we'll fast forward to the following Thursday for a long awaited trip (we've been planning it since May!) around East Lancs with Blackburn's finest Titanic Plum Porter hater, unless it is a blind tasting, in which case he loves it, Ian 'Beyond The Pale' Sutton.
He'd made better BRAPA planning notes than me, legend!
First up was a town I'd been to twice before .....
Beer Shack, Clitheroe (2165 / 4069)
The reversed 'R' had me in a spin, what quirkiness was this? And for a chilly November Thursday lunchtime, wow what a hub of local activity. Busy and bubbly. Being a local CAMRA VIP, Ian of course is known to the staff so I'm greeted warmly by association, although Clitheroe is always a friendly town. The Milk Stout costs about 7p and is fabulous. I loved the glass it came in too but forgot to photograph / nick it. Staff are up and about, stapling leafy 'Winter' decorations to the awnings - I don't want to use the 'C' word too early in case Tom fines me. Like Tim Thomas and other local CAMRA celeb BRAPA chauffeurs before him, Ian decides to mix pleasure with business and is soon back up at the bar chatting to staff, wheeling empty mini-casks around. He decides to make me useful, and I'm instructed to carry one back to the car, it is off to Torrside which I think he said was in Derbyshire. Nice to feel I've done my bit for the brewing industry, next please!
True to Ian's legendary planning paper, it was time for an awkward rural one next so we went up to Sawley which we discovered might have the odd bus if you are lucky.
Spread Eagle, Sawley (2166 / 4070)
The location put me in mind of the awkward but wonderful Robin Hood at Helmshore, leafy with streams flowing in every directions, smell of manure and wet horses. The pub was fine, had a bit of ballast and history about the building, but had been brought reet up to date, presumably with food in mind. But it was warm, and since I've passed the age of 40, being warm in a winter pub has become as equally important to me as beer quality and friendly folk. The BRAPA holy trinity. Sadly, no Plum Porter for Ian to enjoy but the Dark Horse Pale Ale (which always confuses me) drank well, and the staff spoke with such ethereal voices, it was like they were in a different dimension. Witches I suspect. Their mode of transport propped up against the handsome fire place, and a random pile of logs threatening to do something constructive.
You might call a witch a 'hag', and with Pendle Hill looming ominously over the beautiful landscape, that leads me seamlessly onto our third pub.
Hare & Hounds, Haggate (2167 / 4071)
Not enough sitting down poses in BRAPA history, so well done Ian. This pub was a step up for me, a decent shag on the tartan carpet (so to speak), radiators ramped up to 11, sort of multi-roomed and very homely. The old cliche "a bit like being in a Lancastrian's front room" seemed apt. The young barman was a bit of a lad, eyes glinting like Transfer off Willy Fog as I query where Oscar's brewery were based. Nelson was the answer. And that was a point, we'd not seen Oscar or any other mascot so far today, I guess Ian is plush enough. In fact, this Hallowe'en themed brew was the only thing I couldn't quite get on with here. Not doubting the quality, just a bit dry, sweet and cloying ..... you see, I carry one empty beer cask and now I think I'm a beer expert!
It wasn't a graveyard smash
Next, it was off to the outskirts of jolly old Burnley, where Ozan Tufan had charmed the six fingered crowds back in August.
If I was a Lancs GBG compiler, I'd make 'Briercliffe' a separate place, but I don't make the rules, otherwise I'd also reduce the number of GBG pubs to 3,500 ..... which is DEFINITELY a statement on ensuring quality remains at the forefront of the Good Beer Guide's aims, and NOT cos I want an easier ticking life, HONEST GUV.
I'd also put the counties back into alphabetical order. The brewery section (if it must exist) is fine at the end of each county, works quite well actually. But look, I'm digressing, it is the best book in the world joint with Susan Hill's Woman in Black and PG Wodehouse's Summer Lightning.
Ahh, the crackling of an open fire, is there a nicer smell, sight and sound in a winter / autumnal pub? The World Cup bunting was out. It's definitely coming home this time isn't it? Spoiler alert ..... it didn't. Now, I'm all up for energy saving in these 'difficult times' but the toilet lights in here were way too sensitive (bloody snowflake!) and plunges you into darkness mid urination, which isn't what you want, outskirts of Burnley or not. I have bad toilet luck in the town, a Transpennine toilet exploded on me at Manchester Road many years ago on the way back from the Blackpool Punk Festival. I smelt of toilet all the way back to York Tap. Cracking dark ale from Reedley Hallows, who I think are so much better than they were when they started, providing you swerve their ale in Hammersmith 'Spoons.
Time wor ticking on like billio, and we made the sensible decision to leave Colne until another day and make Barlick our last call, after all, I have an unexpected new entry at Padiham, AND I've still not done Worsthorne, but Ian said he's up for a Saturday in the New Year, and I plan to hold him to it, in the gentlest way possible.
And if this happens, it is going to give me renewed appetite for Lancs completion which'll mean a return to 'exciting' places like Preston, Blackpool, Lancaster, Ormskirk & Morecambe. Imagine the scenes when Lancs is fully green.
Barlick Tap Ale House, Barnoldswick (2169 / 4073)
We'd started the day in a bustling micropub with a warm welcome, and this place was certainly Beer Shack's equal, might've actually been my favourite. Well, once I'd hurdled the succession of huge wheezy dogs far too big for this place. The landlord is a proper dude with beard and twirly moustache but his fleecy jumper stopped him from looking remotely villainous. Ian made the better beer choice with the Durham Dark Angel Stout, I went for something called Harlequin & Aurora because it sounded like a hand soap you'd find in a Brunning & Price. But my brain really wanted a dark beer, I soon discovered! Friendly to a tee though, a winning note in a part of the world where you can always guarantee top folk and top ale. Thanks to Ian, legend.
Fast forward twenty four hours and as I posed in front of my latest BRAPA tick, this happened!
Does the tick count if the pub combusts before you've finished your pint?
Not really! 'Twas the Everitt family bonfire at my parents pile in the countryside , one of my favourite nights of year.
I stayed overnight, and then Daddy BRAPA drove us over the East Yorkshire to mop up the majority of the new 2023 GBG ticks, because it felt preferable to Hull City away at Millwall.
East Yorkshire doesn't get much further away than Withernsea, so we started at this unpromising looking rust bucket on the seafront, which didn't look remotely open at 12 noon, uh oh....
Captain Williams, Withernsea (2170 / 4074)
Can you call a pub a flat roofer when that is simply a new conservatory add on? Probably not. We eventually spy a group of elderly lunchers inside, who point us in the direction of the main entrance. So much for closed, this place must've been open long before noon for them to be sat there with their crinkly faces in the trough at 12:05pm. Titanic Plum Porter is the only ale for me, where is Ian Sutton when you need him? And we get seated in a cosy little front corner in front of the wood burner, a 7.5/10 carpet, everyone else has migrated to the conservatory because the sea view is what everyone goes for, even if you can hardly see anything and it is gloomy, wet and murky! Time for a 'Hull City/BRAPA strategy Dec-Feb' session, so Dad gets his trusty piece of paper out. A real grower this place, I was impressed.
Next up, a long drive along the east coast, past Skipsea and Hornsea, then a bit in land, and as is always the way with the local CAMRA, there are new entries on the Driffield-Bridlington road. EVERY YEAR. They love mixing it up. Harpham? A thing of the past.
First up was this difficult to find village community rejuvenation celebration .....
Bosville Arms, Rudston (2171 / 4075)
I'm more torn than Natalie Imbruglia during a difficult childbirth when it comes to reviewing on this one. On the one hand, you have to commend the money spent and effort taken on reviving the village pub to a high standard in what otherwise would've been another pub-less village, depriving the local community of a place to mingle. But on the downside, it had been decorated by someone who had obviously never seen a pub before in their lives as I often find with 'community' owned ventures - have you even been to the Dog & Partridge at Yateley? Similar vibes. And one taste of our Wold Top Bitter, yuck! After some whispered discussion, Dad plucks up the courage to take it back. The way they handle it is exemplary, and soon two quality Welrd Gerld's (Wold Gold's) are ours. And I'm sad to say, even in 2022, taking a bad pint back is no easier than it was when BRAPA began in 2014, so I do appreciate it. And then a twild called Stan started twirling a lightsaber around, and had to be told to give it a rest by his Daddy Vader. Overall, the Bosville had recovered to become a positive experience.
A stones throw away from Rudston, another new GBG entry (or at least, this one had not been in the GBG since BRAPA began (and you have to argue, did the GBG really exist before BRAPA? A bit like football and the Premier League).
Old Star, Kilham (2172 / 4076)
Why do I look 7 pints in when I've only had 2?
A much more traditional offering than in Rudston, here was a dark beamed narrow horse-brassy creaking hostelry. The 'Striding the Riding' drank decently, not great, but as per recent trends, Dad hadn't packed up much snackage so picks up a menu and says "I tell yer what, I could manage something ....." and before I can blink, scampi peas & chips are in front of me, brilliant, and the beer improves immeasurably. The chips have that crunchy quality, think I've overdone the salt, oh well never mind you only live once (unless I get reincarnated and come back as another pub ticker at zero ticks, imagine!) There's a couple of bar blockers with wet eyes doing dry humour with the staff. It is fairly cosy. So considering the fairly strong sum of the parts, and the fact that stopping for food usually elevates the pub in my estimations, I'm surprised that my overall impression of the place was a bit average and pedestrian. Can't explain it! See 'Old Man & Scythe, Bolton' for a similar feeling.
Today's final tick took us to Market Weighton (pronounced 'Weeton', don't be a southerner) where every pub experience I've had in the past has been severely underwhelming. "If it is the pub I'm thinking of, I went last Feb and it was excellent!" chirps Daddy BRAPA mid-journey to offer hope.
The drive allows us to listen to the end of the first half on Radio Humdersaaaarde. Oscar has dropkicked a Millwall man in the chest and been sent off, 0-0 half time. Gonna be a long second half ......
15:54 when we reach the pub .... and it IS the one Daddy B. was thinking of, no wonder he has a 'giggidy' Glen Quagmire expression .....
Bay Horse, Market Weighton (2173 / 4077)
But the Market Weighton curse struck again! Award for 'Most Depressing BRAPA Pub of the Year?' It is a strong contender. Refurbished within an inch of its pubby life and with new owners since Dad's visit last Feb, it was such a gloom fest they should've sold Gloom Bar. Talking of ale, even Bradfield Farmers Blonde, often a favourite, turned to ash in my mouth. The landlord was a miseryguts and spent the whole time dreaming he was in the Isle of Wight (he could've at least said somewhere nice & sunny, but his imagination didn't stretch beyond Cowes). The bar blocking couple were a pair of simpletons totally lacking charisma. They weren't really interested in the Welsh rugby away to our right, but when we and another bloke stood at the bar, they peered around us as though we were blocking their view. Clear view, they didn't once look up at it. A wheelchaired geriatric gets a bit lairy, and his granddaughter shushes him. At least he tried. And a miserable child has neon shoes to match the lightsabre at Rudston, not in keeping with his personality. Dreadful stuff, Winston summed it up best.
At least the day ends on a high. Firstly, we discover Hull City's ten men have held out for a point at Millwall in Rosenior's first game in charge, and then because time allows, we pop it all the always wonderful Fox Inn to remind us how nice pubs should be:
See you on Sunday for part 5, where we will get stuck into South Yorks, Notts and Kent, and pay the most for a pint in Wetherspoons so far.
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