BRAPA ... GLOUCESTERSHIRE COUNTDOWN : PT 8/10 (BETTER TO HAVE TICKED IN GLOS THAN NEVER TICKED AT ALL - PUBS 17-12)
Si Everitt
Jul 25
6 min read
Plot twist .... none of these pubs are actually in Gloucestershire, but border the county closely enough for Glos to unfairly take all the credit.
Fountain Inn, Trellach Grange
Martyn proves why he is the nicest QPR fan in history since Robert Smith off of 'The Cure' by driving me to what seemed the holiday's remotest pub location. Winding Welsh roads (the windiest of all roads), a pub seemingly just plonked in the middle of nowhere for the llaugh. No food going on, not many people kicking about, a fusty heritage grade II listed smell, you have to conclude that some pubs are kept going for the love not the money. My favourites. Burnt down in 1964 and rebuilt in the original style. A few extras from Twin Peaks flash their eyes and offer a shady 'hello' , and a delicious Rhymney is mine. Love Rhymney. Cash only, no surprise. "Always wise to carry cash with you wherever you go" I say to barmaid who approves. But even better, I overhear a local recounting it to his 'lover' in the adjoining alcove. 'BRAPA - brilliantly quotable since 2014'. Sager than stuffing. We go to the far end and I'm finding it hard to get the right angle on my photo to do the pub justice, is that a sign it isn't quite as good as I thought? Whatever, I raved about it at the time and I love ticking in this part of the world - Gwenty is plenty.
Red Lion, Evesham
When a Danish lady admits she's drunk, leans into you and says your phone charger is cute on account of the paw print that light up, and then nearly falls off her stool in Sir Quinno Hop Leaf 2016 style, you know you're in a good place. I'm loathe to even call this a micropub, having first been a boozer in 1728, but with a 104 year gap until the dawning of BRAPA (I swear EVERY town opened a micro the second they saw me deciding to complete the GBG - a conspiracy!) Turns out Micro 'values' + creaky squeaky 18th century beams are a winning combo, and this was sixth pub of the day so to recognise I was in an above avg. pub really says a lot. All the dudes have moustaches like they're in a seventies western. They bond over Voltorol and their naughty yappy dogs - one of whom is so desperate to be taken for walkies, he finds a non drinking stranger to run him around the block for 5 mins. Impressive. Had I been soberer, it may've finished 1st or 30th.
Crown, Kemerton
When a rural fellow with a lack of depth perception, fishing hat and the pinkest shirt this side of Surbiton shambles in and screams in farmery tones "why's the Test Match not on?" it was the only time in my hour long stay that the midweek afternoon slumber and solitude was disturbed. This was village pubbery at its finest. I'm asked if I'm happy having the cricket on. "Loves a bit arr test cricket me" I reply, accidently sounding like Pam Ayres. Soon all-comers are flocking for a snatch of Ben Stokes. The beer is Bass, the only time I saw it all holiday. It is the best quality Bass of 2025 so far. And as a drink, you'll struggle to beat that. Not my Pilot Mumbles gold benchmark, or my Elms Burton silver medalist, but top 10 BRAPA all time I'd say. With the buses hourly, it'd have been rude not to stay for another. But time got away from me and it ended up being a polite half. I have a feeling Worcestershire may end up being a BRAPA top 10 county too.
Fleece Inn, Bretforton
It wouldn't be a BRAPA holiday without one ill-conceived road walk, and with the sun at its strongest on this Saturday afternoon, Honeybourne to Bretforton was tough going even if it did look easy on a map. My owl pendant clock chain around my neck actually melts, causing me to look like I'd had a tanning disaster which I don't realise until I look in a mirror in Bledlington two hours later, AND I was wearing a white tee shirt. Rusty rim. Tee shirt got damaged too (haha). The first road out of the Honeybourne wasn't fit for walking, so I took the ever so slightly longer way around on 'Gloster Ades Rd' - I see only two cars the entire time I'm on it Recommend if you are attempting the same. A famous National Trust owned pub, heritage as fuck. It lives up to expectations, appearance wise at least. But when you've done exploring and cooing at the many rooms, what's left? Apart from a perfectly serviceable but typically weird Uley's 'strong beer'. I cannot believe how quiet it is ... famous pub, hot sunny Saturday afternoon. I'm the only customer inside, only a smattering of day trippers dotted around the rambling beer garden. Staff agree, a trio of bored young ladies standing around like wilting asparagus sprigs. One expresses surprise at just how many orders for coffee and faggots they've had today. Cider and prawns would be more suitable. I sit opposite the front door. Every so often it creaks open and blasts me with cool air. Heaven. I shout 'THANK YOU' each time in case it is a friendly ghost. As I return my glass, earlier staff are AWOL but a Scottish chef is explaining to a snooty local couple how to bake your Pannacotta just right. No one breaks off to say 'thanks' or 'bye'. My walk back is equally painful but I make the next train with seconds to spare. A great tick to get done. And I know I don't have to go back!
Red Lion, Cricklade
Now here was a proper pub with no fancy frilly bits which I'm convinced you'd enjoy, on the bus route between Cirencester and Swindon which are both so odd, Cricklade's seeming normality surprised me. Although the carpet was bonkers, maybe signs of Wiltshire madness were creeping in? The beer was Hop Kettle, gah, course it bloody was! But for once in my sad little HK existence I'm in luck, the 4.1% stout is not only drinkable, it is actually nice. Conversation is dominated by prototype Guinness drinking Emma Willis, possessing some serious main character energy and not helped by her softly spoken balding male mate allowing her to dominate at every opportunity, even when she starts showing him photos of her Mum's new fridge, possibly the poshest fridge in the borough of Cricklade, no one could be certain. I'd like to have learnt more about his life, there's an interesting personality in there leaping to get out. It was fascinating people watching in a pub that just feels 'right'.
Thirst Edition, Shipston-on-Stour
Oi, Paul mate, come back and pose for BRAPA!
Speaking of fridges, I'm giving the BRAPA award for 'most welcoming freezing interior during arid conditions' to this 2023 Warwickshire award winner. A real stand out micro, and is so often the case, our host makes it special. Three tasters plonked are in front of us (I'm with Paul G) before we've had chance to adapt to our surroundings, I'm detecting a hint of a 'northern' accent and when he starts pushing the Thornbridge Hacksaw on me (5* quality), it all makes sense - a Derbyshire lad! No wonder he understands convivial customer service. Further awards need doling out - one for the Slabs, best pub 'crisp' on the planet. And the toilet seat, a thing of beauty. We admire their almost complete range of Good Beer Guides - only '74 and '75 are missing. Mr Derbyshire of the Year 2023 comes over to make sure we aren't pinching any! I proudly boast I have the full set so there! The three old beards sat opposite the bar are a rumbustious lot, gravelly laughs like chainsaws, never mind hacksaws. I get the sense they aren't entirely loving our presence or the attention we're getting, the only thing stopping this pub being top 10, but as Paul points out, they create a Thanetesque atmosphere. A fine pub.
See you on Sunday (Lionesses permitting) for pubs 11-6. We've hit the quality pubs now.
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