On with the countdown you lucky people, based on how many 'likes' you gave me on X/BlueSky and maybe even Untwappd.
Three Golden Cups, Southerndown
When you see a bloke struggling to light his cigarette against a bitter coastal wind, and then walk inside bringing a big gust behind you, to find the publican stood there in a thick woollen beanie, you have to wonder if the pub is adequately heated. Not helped by a giant plasma showing alpine skiing, brrr! I take my pint to the tubular woodburner, followed by a shivering wife who says I have the right idea. I tell we'll keep warm together. Her husband appears and give me a funny look, can't think why. I'm here for an hour due to naughtily timed buses, but you know what, despite my gripes, I love this low-key classic. Very unpretentious, proper and jovial. When the last of the customer's leave, our fantastic host is up playing darts. "This is what I do when we have no customers .... and I'm improving!" he tells me. "The new Luke Littler?" I ask. "Not young enough!" he laments. "No one is as young as Luke Littler!" I quip. He guffaws. Zinger! My best line of the week. Next, he puts on a documentary about crabs and starts running around. "I'm not weird .... I'm just testing the speaker sound" he claims. I think I believe him.
Si's Verdict - You've underrated this one for sure. Easy top 10. What were you thinking?
Ship Aground Inn, Pembrey
Excuse the jaunty angle, it wasn't on a hill, I was just giddy. For this was a #ProudBrapaMoment, my first ever tick in West Wales. It was a harbourside inn, bare boarded and nautical decor, though in truth it was more than a stones throw from the sea. And it was needlessly chaotic as staff illness combined with a steady influx of awkward lunchtime diners who hadn't pre-booked meant the professional gent running the show was doing a fair bit of headless-chickening. As I eye up the ales, a voice behind me recommends Gower Gold, but I opt for something I'd not had before. He doesn't let me forget it, glaring at me in a shunned manner for the duration. I move seats to accommodate an dying crone with a tube in her face and a chunky wheelchair. My new seat is perilously close to dog on blanket, upsetting the creature, which in turn causes the couple next to me to move seats when their food arrives. Musical chairs / bwtterfly effect. I nearly offer the lady a tissue for her drippy nose but I'd already done my good deed. Despite all the mayhem, it still felt just about more 'pub' than 'diner'.
Si's Verdict - Mid table, yeah I think you've got this one about right. Good work. Redemption after your last disaster.
The walk from Cowbridge hadn't been as straightforward as I'd imagined, but at least there was something approaching a pavement, and the horrid traffic parted helpfully when I needed to make the crossing up to Penllyn village. I tell the barmaid of my heroics, and she acts genuinely impressed (she wasn't), especially when I add my favourite 'cold weather chat' into the equation. The homely fire and inner stone walls are situated in the same room as the dining area, which is frustrating, so I take my pint to the beiger pastel green right hand side. Great pint of Wye Valley HPA, astonished this was the only time I drank it all week as it is bloody everywhere in South Wales, though Gwent is even worse for it than Glamorgan. Weirdly, all the folks arriving for lunch including lady with the most slobbering slurpy dog ever (how was she not embarrassed by the noises it was making?) decide to sit in MY room, the less dining one. Staff are quick to react and light the fire next to me. One bloke ejaculates "oh my, the BEST prawn cocktail I have ever witnessed!" though I wasn't sure 'witnessed' was the right word unless the prawns all got up and did a little dance. Time to walk to the bus stop at Pentre Meyrick, wasn't he the elephant man's hotter brother?
Si's Verdict - 22nd? It is bold. It is not a million miles from the truth, perhaps a touch high. Giving you the benefit. I really should've done my own rankings too.
Lord Caradoc, Port Talbot
Or the 'Lord Cardiac' as one of my followers misread it .... not too far from the truth judging by the ruddy cheeked breakfasteers enjoying their Saturday morning Full Welsh. I arrived grey and pallid, having had one pint too many the previous night, and as my shaky hand passes the barmaid £1.59 in dirty coins, I feel positively Port Talbotian. Look, I take joy in British shithole towns as much as the next man or woman, but there are limits. For every gorgeous Darlington and Wrexham, there's a gloomy Doncaster and Bodmin. PT was in the latter category. Standard 'Spoons fayre, even the carpet was a perfunctory 7.25/10. With the smell of black pudding, Gran's perfume and Thursday night's curry hanging in the air, a Mum spills her coffee all over the table. None of her three kids look up from their phones. It was time to leave.
Si's Verdict - You've over-egged this one, but you haven't over sausaged it. And you certainly haven't under baconed it. What AM I talking about?
Blacksmith's Arms, Llanmaes
I'm buzzing as I hop off the bus at the top of Llantwit Major, cross a roundabout, and find a pavement (one of my favourite things in BRAPA) to take me down to the village of Llanmaes. An easy walk by Welsh standards. My five pints have settled nicely inside me, and I've reached my 'moment of clarity'. Smoker man says 'arite' to set the scene. I'm not surprised I enjoy this one, our old mate Daffyd from the Bus Stop told me it is the only pub he comes to in the Llantwit Major area. He recommends the Courage Directors, and I must admit I raised a skeptical eyebrow at the time, having found it rubbish many times. But what's going on here? Prime Fullers ESB! Astonishingly good. You know, like when you get your yearly 5* GK Abbott Ale. Cheerful place, just about clinging on to a traditional village inn style. Basic in parts. Wales v Italy might be long finished, but now the Welsh rugby lovers have a new idol. France. They've just scored a late try against England. An irritating child-man (think man-child but more teenage) is hurtling around the room celebrating .... so although I claim to hate the Six Nations, when England then score a last minute winning try, I find myself up celebrating! Child-man is consoled by his Dad. Lady shouts over at me "I'm Welsh but I can assure you I was supporting England!", like, you don't need my approval luvvie. But great atmosphere, top pub.
Si's Verdict - Not an obvious 'classic' but I think I'd be ranking it somewhere between 15-10, perhaps even slipping into the top 10, so I feel you've gone a bit low.
Named after my home town and 67th favourite football team, it was somehow apt that my epic 40 pub holiday should end here. It had begun in Merthyr Tydfil Wetherspoons drinking Flack's New Forest, and here I was, same pub chain, same beer. Merthyr's was cold and fizzy, Llanelli's started well but was warm and furry a bit like Toilet Duck that's been microwaved for ten seconds (the green one, not the blue one I had as a Sainsbury's substitute last week). Interesting shape, 9/10 carpeted downstairs but you ascend to reach the bar, which is shallower and carpetless. I kept prodding my face because my skin had gone strangely spongey and absorbent. The pub ticking week had finally taken its toll. In the absence of a nearby plantpot, I pour the dodgy dregs into my cheek, and depart. But Llanelli, I WILL be back.
Si's Verdict - Preferred Neath 'Spoons, probably preferred Port Talbot 'Spoons, didn't necessarily prefer Merthyr 'Spoons, so you've got it totally back to front, in my very humble opinion.
Tucked away down the narrowest one track lane, the carpet didn't match the curtains at this no holds barred dining venue. 'Twas like entering a nail bar / tanning salon. Clompy floorboards. Bright lights. Everyone wore white. Everyone was blonde. Everyone had veneers. Everyone had a tan. It had the potential to be bottom of the pile, but it is largely due to the good natured staff that I don't hate you for ranking it 18th. 50% restaurant, & this is the only free area as no one is actually here for food, but congregated in the 'bar' drinking away the disappointment of Wales latest gubbing at the hands of the Italians. Standing, bawling, laughing, wailing. So I take my position in the restaurant, nice pint of Wadworth 6X though Daffyd from the Bus Stop had told me to go HPA. I fully expect to be moved when I declare I'm only a drinker, but all I get is smiles and sympathetic glances, look, there's even a screen if you want a change of clothes, tan top up, ankle tattoo, breast enlargement or teeth whitening.
Si's Verdict - Obviously overpowered up in 18th, but I think my 'tans, teeth & tits' comment went down well with the X lot. So well done you.
Pontypridd can do no wrong in my eyes, and its latest GBG addition, this club with particularly mean opening hours, was a hit with me. Like entering a sandstone cave, it had character, an ancient smell, and was the friendliest welcome I received all week. Or 'Croeso', and our fab landlady doesn't serve me until I've said it back to her and learnt to roll my R's which I always struggle with! Talking of struggling, the Jemima Pitchfork is the only cask and after much effort, I'm given 2/3rds in one glass and the other 1/3 in another, both with ice cream like head! The quality is scintillating, arguably the best beer of the week, but not sure I've seen such struggles to eke out a pint in BRAPA history! Whilst I'm waiting, a friendly Henry Kelly and a young boho lass who reminded me of the daughter from BBC comedy 'Here We Go' chat BRAPA with me. Then two bald men with hidden dogs help me find the loo. Soon, they all depart en masse apart from mine host and Boho Lass, who designed the fantastic pub mural you see below, so they sit down to discuss brass tacks on her latest commission. Worth noting my fellow ticker Maltmeister came a few days later and didn't like it on account of poor beer and live Welsh folk music (though latter sounds good to me!)
Si's Verdict - You could've gone higher for me, but you are probably wise to be cautious.
Back Sunday for part 4 .... if I have the energy! Getting to the good stuff now.
See you soon, Si
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