Before we start, I'd just like to thank you loyal dear readers / skimmers / browsers of BRAPA. Viewing numbers have dropped a lot in the past few months (long before my Wix transition!)
So pat yourself on the back, and see yourself as a supporter of a football team who has seen their side plummet in consecutive seasons from the Premier League to League Two, and is still going to Stevenage on a bitter Tuesday night in January. Buy yourself a hot Bovril and a sausage roll, and we'll begin.
Sunday 27th November 2022 11am, and I meet Daddy BRAPA on the corner of Rose Street, because it is a little bit less chaotic than Princes Street. He looks fresher than I feel. "I'm feeling quite well .... I suppose I didn't drink too much yesterday, if you don't count the whisky" he chirrups. He's got a train back to York soon, but can join me for my first tick today.
11am openers on Sunday are rare, so I commend this pub for that.
Black Cat, Edinburgh (2204 / 4107)
A barperson steps off a chair to serve us, having been fiddling with some fairy lights in the window. I'm careful to say 'barperson' because they have a homemade badge (piece of paper) safety pinned to their top which says something about transgender rights. If Neighbours Twitter has taught me anything, it is that mis-gendering can get you in strife #WokeSi2022And2023 . Sadly, they turn the deafening death metal off and put on something a lot more M.O.R - I blame Dad for not looking punk enough. The ale is excellently kept, and I imagine this place would feel very different at 10pm on a Saturday.
Walking east, I've never appreciated how beautiful and rural Edinburgh quickly comes once you pass Waverley station. I say farewell to Daddy B. Resisting the urge to climb Arthur's Seat, I plough on towards the Meadowbank Thistle / Edinburgh City part of town, where my second tick of limited hours is situated in an unlikely housing / industrial estate.
Bellfield Brewery Tap Room, Edinburgh East (2205 / 4108)
It all felt a bit temporary / half finished, as the above photo testifies, maybe that is the style they are going for? Inside, it felt like I was inside a marquee and I kept looking up to ensure the roof was solid. There was a wood burner at one end, two old blokes sat on picnic benches watching the latest World Cup offering where Didier Drogba is blown up to humongous levels. On the other side, a young dude and his angry twog eye Oscar suspiciously and eat street food from a cardboard box. One handpull is on, tasted like dishwater. Just when I think my bad beer run had come to end too! Interesting place.
Not far away was my only other tick in the Edinburgh East category. The very handsome clock doubling as the pub sign said 13:15, I was cooking on gas today.
Artisan, Edinburgh East (2206 / 4109)
Looked a beauty and was, my favourite pub today it would transpire. Like a 'greatest hits' of Scottish pub features. Island bar, huge sweeping pub, loads of solitary old dour Scots with their blotchy faces in a newspaper and a pint of the big red T. Barman is very hospitable, the beer I want has just gone off, so he recommends me a 5.7%er. I hesitate, so he convinces me 'it is very popular today' and I'm glad I've gone for it, a beautifully kept drop - Rogue Wave by Cromarty, look out for it. A drunk young Hibs lad to my right is very animated, he's drinking two whiskies at the same time and has very short shorts on. I'm worried for a Partridge 'boys are out of the barracks' incident. I try to lean back behind my wooden enclave and hide a bit!
But the BRAPA gods were always fated to slow me down after such a winning start, and I really can't explain what happened next, even looking back now.
I'm stood just outside the pub at the bus stop, admiring Easter Road, and after some wait, a 34 (Ocean Terminal) bus approaches, I stick out my hand, get on. 'Single to Leith please' I say. 'I'm not going that way mate, you need to be on the other side of the road'.
I stand there open-mouthed, how do you tell a bus driver he's mistaken when he's the one driving it? Other side is back to Edinburgh surely, and he is going to take this below route, past Meadowbank Retail Park, swing a left onto Restalrig Road South, up through LEITH, before terminating on Ocean Drive.
Baffling! Oh well, it is a bit of a walk but I've done worse.
Outside the football ground, a group of drunken women in Hibs tops are falling over each other and cackling. WHAT IS GOING ON? I know it makes little difference to Scotland but I thought the World Cup meant no football was on? Soon, I see a sign .... oh now I understand .......
Then it clouds over, so I can't even take a nice vista and make a 'Sunshine on Leith' comment. And I'm dying for a wee. As usual. Leith was probably the place I was most looking forward to visiting this holiday, but it'd probably prove the most miserable! Here's our next pub:
Henry Hall's Carriers Quarters, Leith, Edinburgh North (2207 / 4110)
Smart, tidy small corner bar, unremarkable and a touch unconvincing. One ale on, 5.2% Fyne Mixtape this time, hmmm good job Parcel Yard ESB wasn't on the agenda for later. "Hang on, this one hasn't been priced up yet, I've got to ring my mate .... sit down and I'll come over for payment later on!" says the yappy young Scrappy Doo barman. Well, that is a new one on me. He's as good as his word, shame the ale is poor quality and when I glance up at the bar later on, it has been turned around and been replaced. Two American elders who look like they should know better get very excited to see pizza on the pizza menu, not sure why. The sun is out again now, but I'm not in the mood for landscaped vistas, the moment has gone.
And my poor Leith form continues at today's fifth pub.
Malt & Hops, Leith, Edinburgh North (2208 / 4111)
Early signs are encouraging, and definitely not just because two attractive young ladies at the bar say "Hiiiii! Oooh, if it is real ale you're after, that Fell Sepia is amazing" so I'm like 'why not?' All the ales are from the far north of England. The guv'nor seems a canny chap. A cosy little place, more atmospheric and busier than the last, in fact not an empty seat in the place so I perch at the bar next to the two ladies, NOT that they talk to me after that! The whole experience mirrored my Helter Skelter Frodsham visit in 2013, except my phone battery didn't die here. But this so-called brown ale has a sharp acrid twang, not 'off off' but surely not right. Well, we're all barfly mates (sort of) so I ask barman and the two ladies what they think. Barman claims it is fine, just has a unique taste. Ladies to my surprise, tell me they aren't ale drinkers so wouldn't know. "But, you recommended it to me on the way in!" I say. "Oh yeah, but I don't drink the stuff myself!" Leith sure was trying mi patience.
So, as I hobble over the bridge (that horrid ale was 4.8% too so was really feeling it by now!) in search of today's sixth pub, I hazily calculate that out of the 13 pubs I've been to so far this holiday, I'd say the ale was below par in 6 of them. Not a good return.
Teuchters Landing, Leith, Edinburgh North (2209 / 4112)
It was very watery around and about, although the above photo doesn't reflect it, I felt like I was on one of those barge pubs like that Oakham monstrosity in Peterborough (okay, it isn't too bad if you go at 2am on a Thursday morning in the winter). This was a long thin wooden bar, warm and a cracking atmosphere, helped in part by a young crowd, many of whom were Canadian and bit like the pizza couple earlier, excited just to be alive. The barman isn't full of the same 'hail fellow well met bonhomie', he positively scowls, but I don't care because this Arthur's Seat ale by Top Out is a gorgeous drop - great beer in Leith at last! And only 4.4% too. I perch on a posing stool, lots of people smile at me walking by, and I am enthralled by the red wine list cos I love exciting grapes and nearly stay for a glass, but then stand up to go to the loo and realise I'm a bit wobbly! Back to Haymarket hub, methinks.
I was up early the following morning. Time to get out into the Lothians at last, but first off, having visited Greyfriars Bobby on my previous Edinburgh visit, I decided to say hello to Bum the Dog, a cooler American mutt, less yappy, and reminded me of the Kunt & the Gang song 'Wank the Dog'.
I bussed it to Musselburgh because the problem with these East Lothian railway stations, they're all miles from the centre, like Tring.
And in this day and age, there is only one type of pub you can rely on to be open before noon on a Monday .......
David MacBeth Moir, Musselburgh (2210 / 4113)
My loitering did mean I was nearly carted off in a wheelie bin. But what a grand Wetherspoons, I love these art deco former cinema types. Lights and stained glass were stunning, My loitering also lost me my chance to get served ahead of the lady next to me .... she bought a grand total of 11 drinks plus food at a total cost of £62.96. Just when I thought she was finished, she came back for a glass of milk! I tried to joke with her and the barmaid over this whole fiasco, but neither were having it, perhaps picking up on my underlying passive aggression! My pint, with voucher, came to £1.09 so who's winning? Well probably her and her mates as it transpires, because my Belhaven was poor, and at this point, I'm sorry to sound like a broken record re beer quality.
But hope was on the horizon in the form of today's second pub, even if Google Maps sent me on a wild goose chase to a private house on the coast. And annoyingly, an old gent had his front door open because he was cleaning his car, so I nearly ended up asking him for a drink!
Volunteer Arms (Staggs), Musselburgh (2211 / 4114)
A beautiful wood panelled basic but classy boozer, a rare example too of a pub that doesn't need a carpet to be cosy. The barmaid has a glint in her eye, and a steady gaze, I read that this pub has been in the same family since 1858, I wonder what relation if any, she is to the original owner? Despite four Oakham's on the bar, I shun them all in favour of something dark, Scottish and on good form. Ghana celebrate by scoring twice in quick succession. I sit on a bench along from a silent smiling pair of assassins, and Dr Peanut, so named because despite my allergy, he keeps chucking the things down his neck with theatrical abandon. Also, why not remove your rucksack if you are sat down? Some people really irritate me in pubs without doing a lot wrong. Another sign of my advancing years I guess! A toilet trip further convinces me what a corker this is as I discover dark corridors leading to a surprise green snug room. Some pub this.
My final Musselburgh tick and penultimate pub of part 8 requires a 20 minute walk alongside the racecourse to a pub standing alone beside a roundabout.
Leavenhall Arms, Musselburgh (2212 / 4115)
Smoking doorway cameo man is a sign of things to come, in the early stages I actually find it quite intimidating as these proper no holds barred blokes line the bar, and growl ruggedly. Old school boozers, you can't beat 'em. I feel like a right Sassenach pipsqueak as I peer through the gap to order a pint of the only ale on, a 5% Peelywally. But as so often happens with pubs of this nature, the locals are curious, friendly, and are soon coming over to discover what my book, owl and highlighter pen are all about. A glassy blue eyed bloke called Flockhart, a local legend, 85 years old, has met pretty much every famous golfer since the 60's, makes the greatest impression on me. The guv'nor comes over for a chat - he bemoans the fact my Peelywally is bottom of the barrel .... I had wondered, but a great bloke. Lord Flockhart tells me he'll drive me to my next pub (I thought he was blind when he first sat down so this is a risk!), he asks the others to mind his coke, house keys, coat and wallet and off we set!
But the pub in question, Prestonpans Gothenburg is shut! NOT that their social media had said (current owners leave in Jan so probably CBA to keep them updated), but a couple of the barflies in the Lev had alluded to the fact it might be. Flockhart speeds off with a hearty wave.
It might open at 4pm, but that is still an hour away, and a bracing swim in the North Sea doesn't tempt me ....
So instead, I take the next bus out east along the coast, for the final pub of part 8 .....
Duck's Inn, Aberlady (2213 / 4116)
Not sure why my expectations were so low on entering this one, I think perhaps due to the horror stories from fellow pub tickers earlier this year regarding nearby Gullane's Bonnie Badger, which thankfully had been de-guided. Plush red surroundings and benches, dark wood and brass fittings polished tae fuck, golf & duck paraphernalia, yes it was all rather aesthetically pleasing. Scotland does hotel bar's better than England or Wales in my experience. The nicest pint so far today too, this Stewart's was immaculate, although I was already getting sick of seeing the same glass in a Wye Valley / Gwent kinda way. Had the staff been slightly less robotic, and someone had stuck the heating up a degree of two, we may even have been talking pub of the week potential, but it just fell slightly short.
