BRAPA .... GETS A TICK IN THE NETHER REGIONS : BROUGHT-ON AS A SUB (Pt 1/2)

The 2023/24 BRAPA season really has been a rare vintage for the East Midlands.

Great progress in Northants, Lincs and Leics. Derbyshire is bubbling away nicely, Rutland we'll ignore for now, and that just leaves Notts where I reached 90% completion last year, but haven't had the enthusiasm to be arsed with it this year .....until now that is.

A cheeky Lound tick back when the night's were cold, dark and stormy whetted my appetite. Then a nice guy says he'll drive me to Kimberley's poxy micro in the summer to right that Micro wrong.

And then, the football season finishes, thank god. And that means more Daddy BRAPA car days, ROAD TRIP, WOOHOO, SPRING BREAK, WOOHOO, TAPS AFF (or something).

Florets oot for t'lads

After that exciting build up, I must embarrassingly confess our first pub is actually in Leicestershire. Anti-climax or what? Only just, but within 'blue cheese country' rather than 'men in tights jumping about a forest'.

My fourth remaining Leics tick though. Good-o. Tough county is Leics.

We arrive at the pub car park 11:50am and there's already some nerd / potential ticker sat on a wall waiting for it to open. About four cars full of Coffin Dodger's all pull up. It's a nice looking pub, all grubby and cracked and cobwebbed , one of those which looks like it hasn't opened for centuries until it actually sparks into life for the day!

With wall-nerd staring into space and having lost his concentration (a ticker would never), we swoop for the door at 11:59am to get in first at the Anchor, Nether Broughton (2813 / 4973). Looks like we've just missed out however, as one of the CD's steps forward, but Daddy B is alert as CD dithers and talks to a Nether Norman. Like Race Across the World, and the Everitt's are crowned winners! Bass is drinking well under the low anaglypta ceiling .... my hopes are realised, this IS a good pub. Beermats in the coal scuttle, bleach in the bowl, cracks in the bathroom, kooks in the kitchen. A sliver of bookcase wallpaper and selection of random logs not doing anything SOMEHOW don't annoy me. The star of the show however is the barmaid. Back from a holiday with full tan and post-holiday spirit, a truly lovely character. She even shouts over in case we want a refill. "I could stay 'ere all day!" says Daddy B. No you don't DB, Notts needs our attention!

Dad's SatNav isn't as clever as Mummy B's, being set to 'shortest distance' rather than 'best roads' so we end up on this narrow single lane track lane following that most horrid of summer BRAPA tropes, the lycra-clad cycling group.

No way past 'em, not that they seem remotely bothered that there is a car behind them as you'd expect from the entitled sociopathic crotch clenching Strava obsessed tosspots that this group represent cuntrywide.

Like the clever man he is, Daddy B. is a step ahead. "No chance this lot aren't stopping at the pub, so you jump out, get the drinks in, get me something pale n dry, and I'll park up and come on join you". Top plan. Sure enough, the Twyclists do pull over, so I leg it.

Photo taken on way out if you wondered if I'd asked a Twyclist to take it in a controversial move

'Delightfully surprising' would be my assessment of the Plough Inn, Hickling (2814 / 4974) which for all its dining pretence online, has a genuine pub-bent : a multitude of rooms, tiling and the sort of features which make the purist purr. As expected, the pain-point is getting served. Not due to the twyclists, who never appear, they seem to have just stopped to admire the beautiful canalside basin / tea rooms location, before pushing on. The blame lays squarely on a lady undertaking one of those never ending orders. You know the type. ".... Oh, and a coke, oh .... and what crisps do you have .... oh and while you are there, can I have some water for the dog, oh ... actually I fancy a gin, what types do you have?!" If her husband wasn't looking as itchy as a bed bug in Prestwich Premier Inn, the staff including Cara from Neighbours (pulling through a new cask like a boss) certainly were sensing my frustration and threw me wry glances which was an appreciated touch. Daddy B was settled in a back room reminiscent of Middlesmoor's Crown Hotel breakfast room long before I'd been served. The beer is a disappointment. I'd had the exact same pint back on 30th Dec, but here it was more English Sweet Golden than dry NZ pale thing advertised, and I could sense Daddy B's disappointment too (his worst beer scenario). These designated drivers should be allowed to enjoy their rare pints! Trying to remember where I'd had it previously, a bloke with bat-like hearing shouts over "oh, you mean Frisby-on-the-Wreake!" "Yes, have you been?" I ask. "No. Never have. And I'm not going to, I just know the name!" he replies.

Swerve the Bass, get banged

There he is!

We continue to meander up through Notts. I decide to make Morton a strategic leave because I've worked out I can walk from a random train station not too far away.

Instead we head to the new-build outer Newark town of Fernwood which doesn't even exist on Dad's map, lacks many buses and isn't very joined up to the main road.

Long standing TwXtter follower 'Newark Gooner' (not to be confused with 1920's music hall legend, the Newark Crooner - hits include 'Taking a tinkle under t' gas lights on Platform One') wasn't free to join me, but I'm glad I remembered to ask so I didn't feel guilty.

Expectations were once again low as we arrive at Brews Brothers Micropub & Coffee House, Fernwood (2815 / 4975) but of all the 'pubs' visited today, this is the one that made most of an impression on Daddy B. A sun-kissed, relaxed, comfy interior is presided over by a brilliant top-knotted host, you can't teach bar work like this, though he should write a procedure guide, perfection. After a bit of 'can't pronounce Maori words bantz', Daddy B asks incredibly deadpan "I don't suppose you do coffee do you?" He later confesses in a half whispered confidential side tone that he KNEW FULL WELL they did, he just wanted to see the delighted look on the barman's face when being able to confirm 'yes we do!' I take a 30 second video of a rotating cake stand, which gets the side-barmaid glancing nervously at me, but I'm happy to suffer for my art and TwXtter agreed it was my finest contribution all day and that I should really take videos of more rotating cake stands to elevate myself to the next level of pub ticking. RetiredMartin's blog on the subject "Top Ten Rotating Pub Cake Stands in the Middleton/Chadderton environs notwithstanding the Tandle Hill Victoria Sponge Incident"' is one of his finest if not catchiest works.

Legend

Top beer, top coffee, top cauli, and busier than it looks!

And that's part one done. Join me tomorrow, or Wednesday, to see what happens in part 2 as we continue northwards through Notts.

Thanks for listening, thanks for understanding,

Si