When Hull City plummeted to division four during the Dolan doldrum era circa 1996 and we started playing Mansfield Town for the first time since I'd become a fan, you'd always here one lone voice cry "BLOODY RUBBISH MANSFIELD!" followed by a few knowing chuckles.
Reading this brilliant book about supporting us in the early 80's, plus the Hull music scene, rugby rivalry, Yorkshire cricket in Hull, speedway and more .....
... has made me realise that this 'shout' originates from much earlier than I'd realised.
I've never taken it as anything anti-Stags, more a cry of exasperation due to the situation we found ourselves in at the bottom of the football pyramid.
And say what you like about the town, but a BRAPA trip here is always an 'experience'.
Grey even on a warm sunny day, I make my way to the bus stop opposite Asda. A man with a wheel crosses the road, buys a packet of crisps from the petrol station, crosses back again, and stands directly behind me menacingly munching when he has the whole bus shelter to aim at. Standard Mansfield behaviour.
There he goes ....
The bus is late and full of jolly scrote-life and trainee bus drivers in h-vis, cluttering the aisle.
The lady next to me, a Notts Karen Matthews has illuminati tattoos covering her hands. I dunno if she's ovulating, but she's attracting a lot of attention from the blokes sat around us (my age or younger), looking at her like 'phwoar'. It is most odd.
'Tis kind of bus journey where you take a detour to the hospital, which takes ten minutes because it proves to be hands down the most popular stop.
I'm actually relieved when the bus FINALLY arrives in Huthwaite .... said no one ever before in history.
The pub looks errrm, 'challenging' ..... the type you brace yourself for as you push through the door ....
.... and I did right to brace. As I cross the clompy wooden floorboards with a myriad of fruit machines blinking wildly at me, a bloke turns and gurns at me, his eye swivelling in its socket. Intimidation tactic or friendly greeting I'm not sure, but I'm later told "don't mind him, he has a heart of gold". I wish everyone at the bar with their sloshy pints of lager a good afternoon, and I've got my elbows in at the bar. Market Inn, Huthwaite (3168 / 5654) - the guv'nor is my safety blanket for the next 25 minutes. Not a local accent. "I always wanted my own pub .... I just didn't quite imagine it would be, errrm, this one" he later tells me, his eyes wistfully ping-ponging around the room. He's a proud ale-man, so being a stranger asking for a pint of ale, we soon get chatting BRAPA and the like, despite the clamour in my left ear 'ole of drunk punters. One ale on at a time here makes sense, it is called 'ESCAPE' which incidentally is my Market Inn safe-word, not too subtle I'll grant you. It is a brilliant pint, and for that reason alone, yup it deserves its place in the GBG! I never really sit down in here, a rare example of a pub where you are more conspicuous if you sit quietly at a table than 'wander the floor'. Later on, and I'm glad it wasn't sooner, our hero tells us he only re-opened on Tuesday. Pub had been a crime-scene since Sunday night when someone got punched breaking up a fight, and died. The locals had been sat over the road drinking cans, staring longingly at the pub thru' Monday, and wanted to come back in to pay their respects. Sadly, it was all too easy to picture. My least surprising BRAPA killing since Padiham's Hare & Hounds, and slightly surpassing Park Inn, Kingkerswell last year. The bus turned up immediately which pleased me enormously.
Now considering I'd booked myself out of Mansfield specifically on an 18:10 train, and had arrived early afternoon, I thought I'd have far too much time to kill (ugh, don't say that word!) but as it transpires, Mansfield's two ticks are so spread out, from both each other and the station, not to mention their 4pm and 5pm respective opening times, I had to work hard just to get them done .....
It starts with an awkward walk south past Field Mill, turning onto a side street, Stella Street, where this man with an open van door says 'alreet pal' and apologises for getting in my way .....
Drink it in, cos this interaction was the nicest moment of 'humanity' at the utterly dull micropub Stella Taps, Mansfield (3169 / 5655). I'm surprised in a way, because our trustworthy Huthwaite hero had spoke in glowing terms about pub and staff. I'd been instructed to say 'hello', but the young guy, maybe filling in for someone with the people skills required to make a basic micro work, is a right charmless sod, grunts, and huffs that he is surprised they've been allowed to reopen following 'THAT INCIDENT ON SUNDAY'. The beer is pretty good, some Abbeydale guest, and there's one table of old blokes trying to inject a bit of life - one bloke confesses he's a 'bell-bottomed shape' and he's worn the wrong belt, which mean his trousers keep falling down. Oh, and my seat and toilet door are both surprisingly spongy. But not since Mere Green's Ale Hub have I felt so bored in a pub this year.
Another very easy pub to sup up in under 25 minutes then, just as well cos our final pub of today's trio of ticks was a good 30 minute yomp from here.
And I spent much of it in mental turmoil. "I'd much enjoyed Huthwaite to the Stella Taps hadn't I? Even when I'd felt slightly intimidated? Even when I'd heard about the 'killing'"
A Daddy / daughter duo walking slowly in front of me are playing "I Spy" which is especially fun in a Mansfield accent. "Oarrr Spooirr with Moiirr lid'l orrrr, sumthin' beginning with rrrrrrr".
(I think the answer was Rubbish bin)
Set on the edge of a kiddies play park, I trot around the back of this so-called pub and am relieved to find an open door. It has just gone 5pm opening at Pavilion, Mansfield (3170 / 5656) but already, a man is at the bar is counting out his coins for a pint, but simultaneously giving the energy of member of staff AND lost tourist. Quite remarkable. A dog snuffles at my feet, I have pork n apple chipolatas in there and he wants to know if Sainsbury's 'Taste the Difference' claims are truthful. The cob fridge is empty, but the beers are 'exciting' (well, unknown) which to a less critical pub thinker (I'm better than most of you, let's be honest) equals gOOd GbG pUb. The proof is in the drinking of course, it's pretty good, this hazy pale is the clearest of the three! (see below silly little jars). More club than pub in reality, mustard walls and some stained glass. Easily pub of the day, and yet our Huthwaite hero appeared unenthused when I told him I was coming here!
I make the train with ten mins to spare, and a bit like my recent tricky Tameside pub day, I manage to pick up two excellent re-visits on the way home to remind me pubs can actually be great .....
Mallard, Worksop. Main man recognises me & we chat. Caramel doughnut beer amazing but TOO MUCH.
Rutland Arms, Sheffield. New carpet, same atmosphere. Still a top 10 pub in my eyes.
So there we have it lads n lasses, nearly caught up although as I write this in live time (11am Thursday morning), I'm about to hop on a train to some tricky North Yorkshire ticks with a nice Lancs man.
Next blog might be while so enjoy the heat, expect the cask to struggle, and keep it pub.
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