BRAPA ..... GOES BONKERS FOR CONKERS : EAST MIDLANDS SPECIAL
3 minutes ago
7 min read
Saturday 25th July 2026
Pub ticks in four counties on the same day? What IS this insanity? Surely it ain't possbile?!?!
Well, when Daddy's at the wheel, anything is possible .....
North Northamptonshire is pushing the outer limits of what I'd reasonably expect of Dad on a chauffeur day. An 11am opener made it easier to sell. Verified by three independent sources (the holy trinity of Facebook, Dr Google and CAMRA), I'm still a bit twitchy regardless.
So far from the nearest bus stop, even Black Torrington, Shebbear and Sheepwash are blushing #StillScarredByNorthDevon
Despite Dad's brave face, no door is open (front or back) at thatched village beauty Shuckburgh Arms, Southwick (3550 / 6340). Thankfully, two clucky hens emerge from a bolt-on shop/business venture to tell us that if we wait on the benches, they'll be ready for us soon. Most famously the home of the annual World Conker Championships, the fantastic landlady is soon telling us all about them, the secret world famous commentator they've booked (please be Ghost Gubba) and the King Conker. She seems confused when I ask if he dresses as a giant ape. I drink his eponymous beer, B+ on the NBSS. Her hospitality affords her the role as 'guest Stabiloer' but when I pass her my GBG, she says in the voice of Pam Ayres "you'll be wanting one of these then" and presents me with a CAMRA Shuckburgh Arms sticker for my book. HANG ON, YOU'RE NOT TELLING ME ALL 4,500 PUBS HAVE THESE BEHIND THE BAR? HOW AM I ONLY HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW? Lovely as the pub is, perhaps not the most conducive to a trad. indoor drinking experience so we retire to our outdoor picnic table. Now, remember a couple of weeks back in the Viper at Mill Green, rural Essex? I twatted a wasp with some slate, and I liked it (Katy Perry b-side ..... bee-side? wasp side? Shut up Si). Anyway, Simon Dewhurst (sitting with me at the time cos Dad was puking by the car park) told me the wasp community wouldn't forgive me for this, and he's right. Here in Shuckburgh, most aggressive wasp in BRAPA history alert! Honestly despised my past misdemeanour. Back indoors we go, very briefly, to finish my final inch of ale.
Also in the NE pocket of Northants, I had another obscure tick to do. This one closer to Peterborough / Cambs and has a rare bus to somewhere walkable, just, but still very much a 'thank gawd for Daddy B.' style tick.
The smokin', boozin' cherubs on the inn sign are the first sign that the angel theme at Angel Inn, Yarwell (3551 / 6341) was going to offer an anarcho-punk / metal twist. Ones with dirty faces. The pub interior is a fabulous grotto, I'd say not-to-be-missed and reminds me of a ballsier Railway at Ketton in nearby Rutland. The World Cup beers are still doing the rounds .... never thought I'd find myself saying my Metatersal is drinking well, but here we are. The long haired dude in Anthrax tee shirt shouts to tigerish barmaid Amber some instructions about a gas cannister, but as Dad and I grope around in the dark trying to find our way into the gents, I ask about light switches and he sneers "just keep walking ..... I know we're remote but we DO have electricity around here!" J.Lydon would've been proud. I felt like Grundy. And I don't mean Reg. Surely their should be some corridor light that stops you needing your phone torch cos its pitch black, there's a step down and loos deep. Health & safety would have a field day. He purposefully avoids eye contact on the way out. Pub copy booked blotted to some extent late on. Not that he'd give a shit, too busy smashing the system.
No new ticks for me in Rutland this GBG (a rare highlight of the cross-ticking last September) but Stamford at least creates the illusion of being simultaneously Rutland and Leics when it is in fact Lincolnshire, which really doesn't suit it at all.
I'd found Stammy irritating on my one previous visit here in November 2017, pushing past a snaking queue at the Tobie Norris before turning around to telling them all "I only want a drink!" . It remains my produest pub queue breaking moment to date.
But something about where Dad drops me off + pub location means I'm able to see the town through much more favourable eyes today, the one that had most people telling me back then 'Si, I think you've been a bit harsh'. Well boohoo, go and cry into your wet Laura Ashley BBC Period Drama, I thought at the time.
Greywashing alert! Millstone, Stamford (3552 / 6342) a pub so bloody grey within, it brings to mind Schindler's List where it is shot in black and white but you have the little girl in the red coat and the red roses as the only colour? Well that's what the fire extinguisher, plant and 'caution - wet floor' sign were to this pub. If you'd tell me that I'd visit an even GREYER pub in North Devon six weeks from now, I'd tell you to stop chatting shit because it isn't possible, but it actually was. I'll get to that blog by Christmas, hopefully. FFS. Anyway, despite the grey, I ended up liking this pub a lot. Surprise boozer atmosphere. Guy in front of me at the bar starts shaking a fistful of coins at the landlord, which unsurprisingly pisses him off so much that he's relegated, and I'm served before, and as my Oakham Citra is being pulled, he's given some choice words on bar etiquette! Fabulous. The Citra, holy hell. If ever a beer deserved 5* on NBSS it is this. Perfection. Dad abseils in through a random back courtyard window like the Milk Tray man, and so I'm glad he gets a half of the Citra to witness the greatness. A weird A.I. barmaid keeps flapping about, being fussy, culminating in here getting all jumpy when we take a 'free' pub magazine which says 'free' on it! Amusing place, keep it in the GBG.
Time for Leicestershire for the first time this GBG season, a county I've appallingly neglected this past twelve months. But a double in the NE corner would boost my hopes for a first ever 2027 Leics completion.
Melton Mowbray is up first, Dad drops me beside the market and goes to find a parking space and buy us black pudding topped pork pies, cos it is BRAPA law in this fun little town.
My next tick takes a bit of finding, but where there's a snaking queue, there's a summertime flimsy fiddly-diddly brewery tap .....
Sorry lads, no time for such queue noncery, is my attitude. Even so, I'm relieved there's no controversy or pushback as I slither my way inside using snake hips I didn't know I still possessed, plonk myself on the end of the bar, and I'm served swiftly by a smily dude with bum fluff 'tache who's delighted I've gone for their new Zorro Mexican Lime Salt lager. Exciting! Cask didn't seem forthcoming, weird cos I've had it in plenty other Leics pubs and very nice it is too. Round Corner Brewing, Melton Mowbray (3553 / 6343) ladies and gentlemen. I'm sure everyone here has been to at least one pub in their lives, but incredible the headloss on display when confronted with a drinking hole that isn't technically a pub. To me, same rules should apply. But folk in here treat it more like they're in a creche, cafeteria, library, post office, you name it, basically anything that isn't a pub. The upside of this is that people watching is great fun, though it is a relief when Dad arrives brandishing two greasy paper bags, surveying the general surroundings with a nervous disdain. Let's get back to the car, I need a nibble!
A sleepy village pub is a nice change of pace after that, Dad has important pork pie work to prioritise so says he'll join me in a bit as I crawl up a gravelly hill (not the place in Birmingham) atop a green (well charred yellow) bank in the rural County Durhamesque style ...... will we EVER see rain again? (Spoiler alert - yes we would).
Black Horse, Grimston (3554 / 6344) ain't a pub memory I'm going to carry to the grave. Six weeks on and even with the benefit of the photos I took and my contemperanous BlueSky/X check-ins, I'm still struggling! The locals gave mild League of Gentlemen, but I fare better with the staff, particularly the jolly bloke in the apron who might be a chef or might just have an apron kink. The Bass is sweet and sweaty, and I decamp to the far end with a random pile of logs and vista of the arriving Daddy B so I can wave. He also comments on the punters being a bit too watchful. The overall atmosphere is fairly pleasant, but I really have nowt to add. Get me back to the car, I've got the second half of my pork pie in the glove compartment.
One stop to go, well up into Notts so a good stop off point on our route back to York. This is a further benefit of an 11am start, had it been 12 time would've been ticking on and Dad might've been keener to plough on to York, but in these circs he had no hesitation in allowing me to get a sixth tick in.
Buzzin' lads! Two great landmarks here at the Black Bull, Blidworth (3555 / 6355). My final Nottinghamshire tick of the GBG. And 79% of the Good Beer Guide completed. Would he (I) make it 80% before the 2027 GBG 'drops' (ugh)? Spoiler alert - yes he (I) would. A pub of some quality too. This surprised me. Becasue I've been watching Sherwood, I'd imagined a WMC full of keg Shippo's or Home Mild where everyone glares and murmurs 'scab' menacingly in your ear lobe, before getting it in the neck with a bow and arrow on the way out. There are some edgy accents, but it was all in jest and possibly paid actors up from London. 'Tis the perfect time of the day to see Titanic Plum Porter, third best beer today, just a shame it ain't Grand Reserve. And £4.40 is a decent price, and a late reminder that you can smell Mansfield on the wind from here.
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