BRAPA in ... BERMONDSEY BEER SMILE, AND MY ESB TAKES A WHILE

Saturday 18th January 2025

I was missing my work Christmas do for this one! Pool, free drinks and beige snacks in L**ds.

"You and Hull City better make it worth it" I tell Daddy BRAPA on the train dahn to King's Cross. Daddy B ALWAYS brings the party, but Hull City, not so much.

My record this season:

Played 8, Won 0, Drawn 2, Lost 6

My record away to Millwall:

Played 6, Won 0, Drawn 3, Lost 3.

12:30 kick off but after those stats, I needed a pint. Preferably in one of my 30+ remaining London ticks. All my remaining Wetherspoons were in Norf London, but it was definitely on ...

Kirkstall Three Swords might've seemed a random beer choice, but Daddy B. had manifested it by planning a Kirkstall pub trip with his mates on the train down, wanting to see my GBG for ideas - his powers know no bounds! Beaten Docket, Cricklewood (2908 / 5393) was pretty solid. The staff were like a car on a cold winter's morning that take a while to get started Painfully slow, but by the end, it was beaming smiles, balancing fifteen plates on each arm, holding doors open and waving us off. I try not to take it personally, but so many pubs seem happier to see me leave then arrive. They can't all read BRAPA can they? The booths are cute, Dad does well to get one, was like a stationary version of Murder on the Orient Express. A big gang of ladies with northern accents order big breakfasts, and that's about it.

There'd been some talk of trying to tick off the Colindale 'Spoons before kick off too, but considering we're only in our seat at Cold Blow Lane ten mins before kick off, it was a good decision to leave it.

A kind Millwall man who looks like he's never ventured of the Isle of Dogs but actually has links to Montrose, the Hythe-Dymchurch steam railway and Pickering helps us find our way to South Bermondsey / the away end.

A surprise victory! At long last! I KNEW we were too good to go down, providing we don't lose at home to QPR on Tuesday.

'Twas never a pleasant watch, but the feel-good-factor of victory hits me in stages, giving me gentle blasts of euphoria throughout our afternoon / evening of pub ticking. Which began at this youthful insanity hole .....

Through that horrid flappy plastic we go, and I'm thinking "uh oh, not another Beerbleish horrorshow" but fear not, despite the chaos, Southwark Brewing Co Tap Room, Bermondsey (2909 / 5394) is made of 'The Right Stuff', insert New Kids on the Block joke here. We bring the average age up by about 20 years, make no mistake. The 'homemade' salted caramel stout is perfect, not too cloying. Dad squeezes past a 21st birthday party and we are pinned against the back wall, with one stool and a rickety bench, which Dad shares with the only other oldies in here - the crow's feet around their smiling eyes as the bench rocks like a seesaw really gave me a morale boost. I tell Dad to get off FlashScores, he's the only person on his phone in the entire place, and as the village elder he should know better! Don't believe the stereotype that all young people are immersed in their phones and don't know how to communicate, it's the older generation we need to watch! It hadn't been even 1% comfy, especially with my bum still sore from my lay-by black ice slip last weekend, but it had been weirdly exhilarating.

Is that a Mackem sponsored beer brewing?

A twenty minute walk to our third pub, and to be able to stretch our legs and feel the wind beneath our wings was liberating after that tight squeeze. Dad spies the pub before I do. "I hope it is that building" he says .... well good news DB, it is!

You won't be hugely surprised to learn that once inside, Roebuck, Borough (2910 / 5395) is the most Londonified pub you'll witness, but that doesn't necessarily make it bad. The average age of the punters has risen - mostly thirtysomethings. Pretty busy again, so I'm delighted when I see a blackboard pointing upstairs saying "additional seating this way" only for a barman to pop his head out of his turtleneck and tell me "you can't go up there, private function!" Well how about taking the blackboard away then ya dork? We finally find something reserved for Toby & Jocasta from 5pm which will do. It might be served in a horrid SeaCider glass, but this Five Points Best is yer ultimate classic modern bitter. That is THREE well kept London pints in a row, could we make it four? And in conclusion, a pub style which is often annoying but happy people + away win mean we were far too jubilant to dislike it.

The tiniest of Tube rides takes us from Borough to Kennington. "I'll warn you now ..." I tell Dad, "...I've read some terrible reviews about this place .... rude staff, bad beer, snooty, so be warned!"

Dad hopes it is this building ......

But alas this is the John Durnin library, where you can read the complete works of Oxford Utd and Pompey FC.

Our reality is this .....

We're 'greeted' with a sulky expression from a lass who looks like my friend Sarah 'Yosi' (because I first met her in Ye Olde Starre Inne) but she rarely smile either so it is fine. There is a real ale on, huzzah, I'm not told to change my clothes because I'm not smart enough, and no one is rude to my face, so already it beats 70% of the online reviews. Our favourite thing about the Dog House, Kennington (2911 / 5396) apart from piped Pulp doing 'Common Dolan' ("He came from Rochdale with a lack of knowledge, he studied football up at Bradford college" etc etc) it is OH SO QUIET, a huge relief after our last two pubs. The Bullion is nicely kept (so FOUR above avg London beers in a row, I make that a new BRAPA record) and aside from two young dudes eating each others faces off (so Dad said, I didn't see) a dimly lit twinkly low key thrum reverberates around. To seal the success, Fake Sarah Yosi has been replaced by two other barmaids who wave us farewell with a smile, no spitting, no middle finger salute. Better than I'd ever have expected. Tip for you pubbers - expect every pub you go in to be shite, and they might actually be alright.

From kalm Kennington to lively Leicester Square, ee by gum you don't get more Central London than this, and you could barely move on the pavements for selfish non pub ticking goons.

"I got some hard times, two punks up on the subway, it's a long way to go, to get to Leicester Square" sang Rancid back in '98, I guess the journey seems harder when you're in Berkeley California.

Dickheads so close to potential 'entrance doors' we assume they must be false doors, walk around looking for a real door, but realise fake is real at the Coach & Horses, Soho (2912 / 5397) and eventually, Daddy B is like "bugger this for a game of soldiers" and squashes a few bearded Londoners behind one on the way in. One of those iconic LDN classics, all square and red and wooden and perfect. Ideally, I'd visit all these bang on the opening nose, but sometimes in this game, it just doesn't work out like that. A famous pub too, of course I got the "Si, how the hell have ya not been 'ere before? treatment on X and BSky, but dear reader, you'll be astonished to learn it hasn't appeared in a GBG since 2007. Jim's spreadsheet never lies. 'Not even a beer pub 'til fairly recently' says someone, and like he instinctively knew, Daddy B. stuffs his limbs in at the bar and orders a whisky. And asks what ales are on for me. She gives no choice other than London Pride, but I'd gone for a squishy pub wander and seen all sorts of Siren's, Verdant's, and shizz. Never mind. We work out standing by the loos is the only area with any space around us, I even find a ledge. In some ways, it was reminiscent of our Southwark Brew Co. experience earlier i.e. crazy busy, but enjoyable. I'm sure the old couple near us have been coming here every Saturday evening for the past 50 years, they just had that look. The Pride drinks well and as Dad says, an apt drink considering we couldn't be more Central. Great place, tonnes of history and stories of course, but I'd rather give you this half hour snapshot of what it's actually like. We discuss whether there is time for my final C.London tick at Russell Square, close to Kings Cross but hmmm, ahhh, oooh. And when you have to 'hmmm', 'aaaah' and 'oooh' , pub ticking history tells me the best thing to do is not to risk it, there'll be a better day. As Captain Tom said before his daughter killed him. Besdies, ESB in the Parcel Yard as a consolation prize?

Even my Parcel Yard ESB proved a struggle, proof it was a good job I didn't risk Russell Square. Barrel needed changing too, he offered me a Pride replacement so I gave him sad eyes so he sends a barmaid off meaning I'm about ten minutes stood at the bar, but all credit to them, it is a meticulous barrel change / beer pulling through - you can tell they get good training in this place.

Dad's been offered a seat just at the right moment, my sister's on some women's march, Arsenal score a goal, a French version of sister's boyfriend says 'Merci' as I hold open toilet door, Dad drops his wallet and only just recovers it. All in the space of 21 minutes. Had to fairly neck my ESB but being fresh barrel, it was even better than usual - NBSS 4.5.

And that was that, a truly great day, and guess what? UP TO DATE on my blogs for the first time since probably August. Only for 16 hrs mind, until I hit my first #ThirstyThursday pub tomorrow approx 1pm.

Thanks for reading, and thanks to Reading (for Ruben Selles).

Si