BRAPA ... GLOUCESTERSHIRE COUNTDOWN : PT 4/9 (MIDDLE OF THE ROAD THRILLS - PUBS 45-39)

Happy Sunday!

Antiques Roadshow and Countryfile are done, you are settling down for the evening, hot milk in the microwave, dread of the new week upon you. Melvyn Bragg's South Bank Show theme no doubt ringing in your head.

(Unless you are watching England 4-0 Wales Euro Women like me)

But fear not, I'm here to tell you about some middly-twiddly pubs to send you to snoozy-snoozeland. The blog equivalent of white noise. Really selling it aren't I?

45. King's Head, Bledlington

The walk from (Lorraine) Kingham station was a walk in the park after the rigours of Honeybourne to Bretforton a couple of hours earlier. A hot mess on this Saturday evening, the confident landlord instructs one of his youthlings "just poke your 'ead out of the front door and shout 'd'you want anything else?!' Youthling is aghast. No idea whom she's directing this shout at, or what the context is, cue much mirth from the bar blocking farmers to my left, and her youthling colleagues. I try to join in, but my non-local sunburnt brow, jazzy durag, blue shades, melted rusty neck (which we'll get to), plus the inbred location mean I was never going to 'bond'. Stuffy foodie inside, so despite some freaky beams and a genuine cuteness, I take my pint of Summertime Gold (excellent btw) to the village green / beer garden which is perhaps my favourite outdoor area all holiday. The bar blocking farmer with the chubbiest wrists then drives his vintage tractor into the sunset, definitely one for the tourists! In all the bliss, I almost forget I'm against the clock and require a quick march back to Kingham, exiting across a narrow wooden footbridge over a stream. Pub exit of the holiday too.

There he blows

44. Bank House, Cheltenham

"Perineum!"

Great carpet, stunning Jaipur, Cheltenham's second best 'Spoons is perhaps better than I give it credit for, but time and circumstances of visit can really influence your rating. It did nowt wrong, it passed me by at the end of a long Cirencester day, but that's hardly surprising. The first word I heard on arrival was 'perineum', #OnlyInWetherspoons .... you'd have to ask the three blokes outside for the context! The barman is delighted to to tell me that 'Monday club' has been extended into Wednesday, yet still allows me to use a Mudgie voucher. Hence, a £3.10 pint costs me £1.95. Barry bargain! AND he apologises for giving it to me in a Hook Norton glass .... "I can't find a Thornbridge one, I'm so sorry!" Yep, now I look back, perhaps this really IS Chelt's premier 'Spoons outlet?

What's in the box?

43. Moon Under Water, Cheltenham

Most welcome pint of the holiday was my first. Jaipur perfection under an ice cool blowy fan , tonnes of space around me, in Cheltenham's premier 'Spoons. Abysmal journey on the Dross Country Train (thanks Rich!) from York. Both the train before and after were cancelled. It was over 30 degrees. Four carriages. No air. So many standing. And at EVERY station, our Geordie guard tries to guilt passengers into a #BeKind to their fellow passengers movement, the train company taking zero accountability for this mess. I'm sat next to a Durham Uni student from Maryland. She's graduating soon so is off to Bristol with her friend (asleep over yonder) to do some 'Jane Austen culture'. Like all bad Americans, she slags off the lack of British air conditioning (we have five hot days a year, ain't worth it luvvie!) When she randomly says she loves British pub culture (parroted by her compatriot O.Rodrigo of Glasto, a week later), I flop out my GBG on the table. "Geee, that's pretty" she says of my Worcestershire map. But then she silently stands up, pulls out a laptop, puts her headphones in, and we don't speak again! Then I had to check in at the most airless Air B 'n B ever and do a hot Waitrose weekly shop, so you can imagine just HOW READY I was for this pint. The 'Spoons itself? Transient doss house on this late Saturday afternoon, but it has more darkness and depth than Bank House. And a weird old lady is on the coffee AND Jalapeños. Monstrous! My first Chelt tick since 2003, and that (the Mitre) shut down about a week after my visit!

42. Coach & Horses, Longborough

    
    

This Cotswold pub provides the twist to end all twists ..... it actually is more pub than restaurant! Gadzooks. But before you get too comfy, it is Donnington. And just like at my debut Donni pub in Bredon, the beer is a fluffy soupy mess. BB this time. Shame. Heat certainly ain't helping. My chauffeur Paul G. is actually trying to tick all Donnington pubs. I'm not that masochistic, but I believe him when he tells me their ales in Guiting Power are superior. We'll see if it returns to the GBG in '26. But landlady is down to earth and welcoming, local barflies fruity, especially impressed when Paul correctly identifies the music as 'Supernature' by 'Cerrone'. Who? What? I've not felt this schooled in music since my Obsession Animotion Arundel Incident. Paul later discovers this pub changed hands only two weeks ago, the tenants have gone to Guiting Power. So now you know.

41. Crown Inn, Church Enstone

Straying into Oxfordshire on my final day as you can probably tell from Paul's nonchalant sedentary pose. A gorgeous wooden settle by the entrance promises much, but the pub opens up into a pleasantly dull dining bare boarder, Oxon's fave type of pub. Very impressive staff, one look at my cloudy Vale ale and he leaps down to the cellar like a jack rabbit. Fresh barrel = gorgeous pint. He encourages us to sit outside, but we're indoor folk, besides the hi-vis after work crowd have claimed it. There was a real atmosphere to this pub, despite the heat I get a chill down my spine at one point. I think it was the spirit of a hooded grey lady called Karen trying to enter my body .... she'd been sat on the settle on arrival and didn't approve of me photographing her! Paul and I have a particularly zingy chat here - Princess Diana is covered in much depth, and he then reveals Pete Best is still alive which shocks me because I thought he was missing presumed dead like Elvis, Lord Lucan and that dude from Manic Street Peaches. But Paul then breaks it to me that I'm the Ringo Starr of pub tickers, but says it ain't a criticism! Lovely stuff. A grower this pub.

Sorry Karen!

40. Royal Hop Pole, Tewkesbury

Tewks smacks you in the face with its history like a wet kipper, tis a truly impressive town, and I live in York so I'm qualified to say unlike you in your slum. Centuries of life hangs in the air like a suspended cavalier (not the Vauxhall car everyone had when I lived in Saffron Walden, that'd be weird). So it is no surprise that their Wetherspoons has more atmosphere than most. Delicious dim-lit, it smells strangely of Lurpak, and if you love a wood panelled pub, this is the place for you. I just couldn't quite find the photo angle to do it justice. Unsurprised to learn that Charles Dickens came here when he was starring in Pickwick Papers. Where's the Jaipur? Point off! The Cairngorm Trade Winds did its best, but it was no match. Late on, a group of tourists are loitering by the condiments table and a staff member comes over to give them the shortest historical guided tour ever .... "and this was the same bottle of Heinz ketchup that Charles I shook up just before his execution" etc. etc.

Not the best view - reminds me more of coming back from the loos in Parcel Yard!

39. Fountain, Gloucester

    
    
    
    

Whilst we're on the historical trail, the narrow passageway down into the Fountain immediately puts me in mind of York's Ye Olde Starre Inne, although the 2005-10 version before it became the lazy Greene King drabhole we know and tolerate today, only due to the ghosts and Old Peculiar. Sunday lunchtime isn't the time to witness the Fountain atmosphere at it's most undiluted. but I'm encouraged enough. I love how brutally honest the barman is when I ask for the Siren Mesmerist - a 'soft pale ale' whatever the shit that means! "IT IS DIVISIVE" he barks. I think he's going to offer me a taster which I'll have to decline cos I hate tasters and think anyone asking for one should be put to death, but no, he's pulling a full pint of it in a "You made your bed Si, now lie in it, and I hope the pillow is soft and pale" kinda way of which I approve. I like the ale FWIW. To my relief, I'm able to find a relatively isolated spot near a thankfully fake glowing pile of logs, so the Sunday roast clan don't annoy. Solid pub. And 38 pubs are better according to me, which says a lot about the quality on offer this holiday.

Part 5 should be with you on Wednesday, I'm having a quick look at our next set of pubs ... a mixture of slightly irritating, boring, lacking, but all with nice things you can say about them!

Have a good week, Si

p.s. Keep it pub!