2017 was the last time I ticked a pub in Herefordshire. Poor form! I was on holiday with the parents in a remote cottage near Eastnor which had loud owls and an obelisk.
I went to Ledbury one evening to 'help' Daddy BRAPA to post a letter, with the view to tick a couple of pubs before Mummy B. wanted us back for a ploughman's tea and vintage Bergerac.
"Daaaaad? As Ledbury has a train station, please could we do a couple of villages instead?" I whined in my childlike voice, still breaking after the longest puberty in history.
Daddy acquiesced and GBG mainstays Staplow and Wellington Heath were done. I can't remember anything about either but there'll be a blog somewhere on my old channel.
Ticket to ride
I didn't realise that it'd take me just shy of nine years to see the fruits of these early labours, but better late than never.
Note my rare paper train ticket. More fruits. This time from recent DrossCountry delay repay malaise. Of course, they couldn't just refund me like a normal train company, instead insisting on sending me paper vouchers through the post. Unable to redeem them online, I'm forced into a trip to York ticket office and specifying my trains which took the poor lady ages.
Ledbury's one of those cute towns like Tewkesbury that looks like its stepped straight out of a CJ Sansom novel, all hopelessly timber framed creakage and locals who look like their farts don't stink.
First of the trio is Talbot Hotel, Ledbury (3338 / 6178), ghosts of the Civil War still rattling about in Wadworthian splendour. You can tell that I'm a northerner because I still get vague 'novelty factor' thrill on seeing 6X, Horizon and the like, whereas I guess some of you southerners would yawn and look the other way, like I do on seeing Black Sheep. There's a pungent aroma about the place, which I'd love to tell you was in part due to the pub's 16th century heritage. But it is actually caused by a local barfly in a heavy knitted jumper, unwashed since 1975. Stick an ACV on it. And he can't keep still, wafting his scent as he roams the floor. There's a tourist information leaflet desk, where I learn kids go free at the museum of cider, and I notice I'm not the only random curious first time visitor, but for the most part, this is a solid cheerful no frills local. If you care, the Horizon was the best I'd ever had it.
Back onto the main drag from whence (where?) I'd came, and oooh guess what? Black & white fronted Elizabethan elegance. How very Ledders.
Feathers Hotel, Ledbury (3339 / 6179) this time really does feel like a hotel. It is huge. A meandering twisty route to the bar, carefully stepping over a bunch of House of Commons female Rees-Mogg's reclining over antiquated olive green benchery with trays of tea and cake in front of them. At the bar, Ledbury Ales. Since when was that a thing? Probably forever. Had a pint of their bitter in the Forest of Dean last summer apparently. Who knew? Not me. I go for the 'Small Batch' cos it sounds unusual. Zingy, but good zingy. But the single most pleasing factor of this whole schmozzle is what could be classified as a designated drinkers area, opposite the bar but set back atop more comfy green leather, so you're afforded some privacy, even if the food smells are a constant reminder this is no pub. Two reclining posh ladies have escaped to invade my space, but no bother. Ledbury, I could live inside you!
It's a panda luv, get used to it!
So onwards and stationwards for the final part of our Ledbury thrillogy , tucked down an impossibly picturesque narrow side street. I even let out an audible "coooo" as I take the below moneyshot, which terrified a bunch of elderly soft-centred Canadians who were oot and aboot.
The first thing that I'd like to point out is that, unlike 90% of my online pub followers, I had no prior knowledge that Prince of Wales, Ledbury (3340 / 6180) and its status as a 'known classic'. This benefits my visit greatly, and is a large factor as to why I can, hand on heart, say that this is the best BRAPA pub of 2026 to date I'll let off the bar blockers because they are welcoming spinning tops, as I swoop down on a Ledbury Bitter seeing as I've developed a taste for this brewery. I'm then told they have six different 'more exciting' beers in the back room, and sometimes an outdoor bar with even more on. Alright lads settle down, who'd do you think you are, Black Country Ales? I nestle into the front corner bench beside the door, convinced this is the prime position. The blockers include a local guffer and kindly harridan who've been friends for years despite their ten year age gap. They're bemoaning the local gossipmongers who claim they're secretly a 'couple'. He wants to go to the Talbot next. "Better pub than this!" he says, which he gets a clip around the ear for dissent and he's forced to backtrack. BRAPA inevitably becomes a hot topic because this place CARES about random interlopers, which leads to a brief cameo from the landlord who holds up a poster to give us a forthcoming rundown on live gigs, to both myself and the bewildered couple next to me from Stoke Lacy, wherever that is. God tier pub. Better be in RetiredMartin's top 100 or we riot.
Train is slightly delayed, need a wee again, and the only half private location would've had me pissing on a dead pigeon which might've been a new BRAPA low, so I manage to hold on.
Terminating at Worcester now, NOT Brum. Causes a few ripples of discontent, but fine with me, I was getting off anyway but I make a mental note to be extra cautious of my own train north to Brum later (which would prove wise).
Next up for me, one of the three remaining Worcester's I need .....
I was fully expecting King Charles II, Worcester (3341 / 6181) to be my 2007 'mystery' pub here, having failed to find it on my Daddy BRAPA day trip down here last summer. Central location, Ledbury-esque frontage, it certainly looked the part. But where are the beermats adorning every orifice? Why is the bar on the right and not running down the left? Why's it all foodie, lacking discernible drinking seats and a smattering of spit and sawdust? I look in vain for a back room, but I can't find one. I know 19 years is a long time in the modern life of a pub, but no, I'm not convinced this is it, at all! You know I love a bit of Billy Joel, but he can't compare to 2007 Gogol Bordello. The sight of a 3.2% Hobson's mild is welcome in the circs. I enjoy it with a grimace as two Yankee twilds are told to behave with more decorum by their 7/10 parents (look, I have to rate something, there was no carpet). Least enjoyable pub today by a mile, but by no means awful.
Worse was to follow as I notice the train I had hoped to catch back to Brum was cancelled, so I'm glad I checked.
This renders my hopes to tick the Bull Baiters (5pm opener, EVERY DAY, how cruel is that?) impossible as I'd now need an earlier train back but a combination of bus and Uber helps me salvage a fifth pub from the wreckage.
In an awkward part of outer town, resembling a grim bookies, tucked in an unlikely precinct of bollocks, I'm forced to leave my preconceptions at the door at Ale Hub, Worcester (3342 / 6182). As a chain, I've always regarded Ale Hub as the micro chain of Ember Inns after a series of dismal experiences mostly in West Midlands towns. Mere Green in particular was a shocker. Last year, I heard they were on the verge of going bust. So when I'm sitting in 2025 BRAPA pub of the year, The Plough on Fish Street, last summer and tell Daddy BRAPA I'm contemplating a bus ride up here, he says "you do wot you want, I'm staying 'ere, I might even get a second cob!" and I decide against it, well it probably won't be in the 2026 GBG anyway! Well it is, and a fully deserved entry. The landlady is wonderful. There's a community feel. Warmth, good decor, leather benches, and an HPA clearer than windscreen wash and equally tasty. Are you SURE this is part of the same chain? A revelation, I will be a bit less Ale Hub judgy next time I'm forced to visit one.
I even have time to sneak in a very quick half at the highly pre-emptive Weavers of Worcester. If Kiddie, Stourbridge and Malvern are anything to go by, it'll be 'Fownd' in a GBG in the near future (thanks, that was a geeky beer joke).
Not my favourite in the mini-chain, but comfy enough for a station side slimline tonic. Ace beer quality, a bloke did an impression of Bruce Forsyth in the window, and I STILL have a couple of pre-emptives I want to do here on a future visit (I've heard the 'Spoons is good, and Quinno recommended something Bassy). Plus it'd be great to lay that 2007 demon to rest. Worcester - a fine pub town.
Back in Brum, I manage to swerve Craven Arms for once in my life, so treat myself to Welbeck Abbey's superior answer to Guinness in York Tap, before I try KFC's new pickle extravaganza, which I was burping out all day on Friday. I'm glad for my work colleagues sake that I work from home.
I might not be back tomorrow despite my lack of #ThirstyThursday, but I will at least make a start on my next blog ..... a car day around North Staffs / Derbys, with a view to Friday release date.
K.I.P (Keep it pub, but also kip, but preferably not at the same time),
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