BRAPA in ..... BRAINS OVER BRAUNSTON (Northants Pt 5/5)

Saturday 11th November, 11:59am

Lurking on a splintery bench in a sunny sleepy churchyard, crows cawing high above, you find BRAPA and that veteran cauliflower Colin on our final day in Northamptonshire.

I'd just phoned my Hull City predictions into Mummy BRAPA, who advises me I sit third in a league of four. She is top, but then she is in charge of the league table. Suspicious? I think so.

The church bongs 12, the crows scatter, and it is time to walk around the corner to see if the pub is doing what it should and opening in a timely manner.

Countryman, Staverton (2529 / 4687)

It is. A dining pub so dull, it is like watching a 1980's Steve Davis trying to find his way out of a magnolia walled escape room whilst Mumford & Sons play in the background. But I'm pleased to be here, because a Northants tick sans bus route is a very good tick, sun streaming in through the window, and my Wainwright was in good shape, staff pleasant. I'm hiding in the empty left hand side of the pub, with a nook offering books and board games for company. An indecisive dining group beyond the divide are making their presence known. One minute they want baguettes, the next it is fish finger sandwiches. "Any allergies or intolerances?" asks the patient Olivia, probably through gritted teeth. "Yes, my wife!" says the loudest bloke with a guffaw. You can tell your perilously close to Warwickshire when Northants humour gets like this.

It had been a fairly pleasant 50 minute walk from Daventry, footpath the entire way. Just make sure you turn into Staverton at the first opportunity just after the golf course, and approach the pub through the village, as the path does run out on the main road. That is free BRAPA advice.

Having walked back, I find my Daventry tick lurking under an enclosed arcade, just to confuse me.

Early Doors, Daventry (2530 / 4688)

Pub of the day is undoubtably this cheerful adult sized micro, the mobility scooter should've been a clue, plus smoking bloke apologised to me on both the way in and the way out just for existing. A nice touch. At the bar, probable daugther of the Daddy Daugther duo who run this and a cute old couple seem to think that walking to and from Staverton is weird behaviour so I have to explain the reasons behind it. They give me a lot of well meaning bus gen which makes little sense. I retire to the opposite corner with quality pint of honey porter, luckily not too honey. Girl beats her grandma 3-2 in an exciting Connect 4 finale which forces Grandad to go to the loo very slowly. He's recovering from a broken pelvis, so I tell him not to fall over, which I think is the soundest medical advice I've ever offered.

Bus confusion would become a lingering theme for the entire day. The normally reliable bustimes.org just didn't marry up to what was listed on the actual bus stops. The Stagecoach App seemed more up to date, but very slow to update you on delays, of which I'd have many!

When I reach the canal obsessed "oooh, let's have a day out" village of Braunston, I have a slight trek because the GBG entry is tucked away down Dark Lane, so called because it is a lane and when it is dark, it gets very dark indeed.

Admiral Nelson, Braunston (2531 / 4689)

Great location but canalside pubs are often some of the weakest I encounter in the GBG and this must surely go down as the poorest of the 25 ticks I did this week. As I enter, I have to wait whilst a posh Dad in mustard turtleneck moves his blocking toddler. In fact, the entire pub is packed with self absorbed types who look like they've taken a wrong turning somewhere between Henley and Matalan. The pub isn't the right shape for this, trying to be all tight knit and characterful but failing on most levels. The staff are zombies, the Old Accidental from Derby's Brunswick is inexplicably dreadful. An Everard's pub, perhaps I should've played it safe with Tiger? A bossy landscape gardening lady puts the chains on the mousy Duncan at every opportunity. Depressing to witness. Only the sight of a Northants Skittles table offers solace, but it ain't enough.

Back on the main drag, the buses are even more messy than I was expecting so I nip inside the Wheatsheaf for what turns out to be an excellent half of Ghost Ship in a very non fussy (and more classically Northants GBG) Gilette Scocer Saturday pub as kids learn to play pool. I can see the seduction of canalside beauty but on this experience, I know which I'd be sticking in the Guide. Sadly, I lost all photos as my phone died and took ages to power back up!

Back in Daventry, the connecting bus didn't turn up. And when I saw the next one was delayed 25 mins, after two Tesco wees, and I hop in a taxi to Nether Heyford for my final holiday tick.

This proved a great decision because the driver was lovely, and Hull City, which was 0-0 when I got in with 85 minutes gone, was 1-0 full time result by the time I paid my tenner and said cheerio!

Foresters Arms, Nether Heyford (2532 / 4690)

My euphoria at Delap's (not Delapre's) late goal extends into the pub, and I'm lovin' first impressions, a boozy warm Saturday evening hug of a pub, nicotine and red decor, feels very community based and the Tring Hopping Hare is a candidate for beer of the week. But once that initial buzz subsides, I can't help feeling the pub falls a bit short if you aren't 'known'. Barmaid is a right mardy cow, very unwelcoming, and aside from a decent smattering of pissed up locals, there's an aloof reservedness about the others. Yes, the longer I'm here, the less I'm convinced by it.

There's a chav domestic at the bus stop, on what is now a freezing night, I side with the boys and they seem to appreciate it, as they seem the maturer of the two factions.

Stagecoach app suddenly reveals this bus is delayed too, I sit it out, but then it disappears off radar, and when I look at the live route, it seems to have circumnaviagted the village centre and carried on down the main road! Fuming, I stomp off to the other village pub recommended by a Twitterer.

Olde Sun, Nether Heyford (pre-emptive)

Not sure if it has ever made a GBG, but I rated this one. Perhaps a bit less 'joined up' in feel (hard one to describe) than Foresters, but it has natural charisma, bags of decor, and is certainly friendler. The Banks Amber is decent, if not of the Tring quality, a local points at a jar of mustard and says it pairs well with it. "He's joking" says the barman, adding "there used to be sausage rolls on that tray". I should've been here earlier, obviously. But it has an 8/10 carpet, funny dangly ceiling bits, and quite the old farmhouse feel, as innocent men watch Bournemouth v Newcastle and make gurgling noises, caused by fizzy lager.

Back in the cold night air, the Stageoach App suddenly tells me the bus I've been working towards (18:30) is now 17 mins down. I don't know what the 'D' in these D services stands for but DreadfullyUnreliable seems the most obvious answer.

Back into Foresters to warm up with half a Lister's Autumn Ale, but I'm not really in the mood and barmaid is still moody.

Finally, we rejoice as the bus arrives and takes me back to Northampton. I'd been on the verge of getting a second taxi so glad I didn't need to.

I try and salvage a late bonus pre-emptive at the promisingly named Princess Alexandra Craft Beer Bar but Daddy BRAPAs garage has more chance of making the GBG, and I decide to cut my losses and head back to my digs for tea and an early night, home to York tomorrow.

Despite the late messy frustrations, it had been a great week, and serious progress has been made.

Join me tomorrow night, where we'll see if we can justify why the 2024 Good Beer Guide has stuck so many outer Grantham ticks.

Keep it pub, Si