BRAPA in .... COMETH THE STOUR(BRIDGE), COMETH THE PUBMAN

The West Midlands. Is there a better county/area when it comes to pub ticking? An area that just delivers time and time again. Staffordshire runs it very close. Derbyshire has had its moments. West & South Yorkshire offered much promise in their younger days. Bedfordshire didn't.

15th July 2023 saw a rare visit down this end for me, alongside Daddy BRAPA on his summer break from Hull City misery. It was a first trip out for my broken toe which I don't like to talk about. Very painful, well at least until the beer kicked in!

11:30am and it was a return visit to Stourbridge on their peculiar little shuttle train for a pub that I missed last time out ......

And the BRAPA 2023 award for the pub with the name which least suits it is the Red House Boutique, Stourbridge (2585 / 4480). I don't know if I've ever been in a boutique, but I'm pretty sure they ain't like this! A selection of contented innocent men with fleshy necks are dotted evenly across this sweeping long room peering into the bottom of their pints for signs of life. Thankfully, the barmaid shares my cheerfulness, proper people person doesn't mind me wittering on excitedly, but I've been up since 6am so a pint is much needed. Oakham Bishop's Farewell seems a great way to start, but with the toe in mind, should I perhaps have gone for the 5.8% Kinver? Basic bar, bet it is lively at 10pm, ey up! And somehow quite majestic in its brutal grey grimness.

A short limp to the bus station, a bit of confusion, and then we are just up the road in Wollaston which has three ticks all in a straight line. That's what we like to see.

We're also fascinated by this pub.... anyone been? Ever been in the GBG? Any good?

Our first Wollaston tick appears just as things are getting leafy and hairpin bendy .....

Foresters Arms, Wollaston (2586 / 4481) was today's first true taste of that classic Black Country boozer being injected into my veins. Even if I was an alien plonked down in here from my saucer, and hadn't heard any accents, I'd still be saying 'yup, somewhere near Dudley'! A 9/10 worn carpet leads through a narrow space to the bar, pies on the top, a sleepy dog lies below. A wrinkly codger tries a swift manoeuvre to return his glass with his walking stick, and nearly catapults himself headlong through the bar. There are even slower elderly folk coming in now, one is a bit blind so forms a three person chain with two ladies to navigate him through the pub. The Holden's Golden Glow drank superbly on a spongy bench seating, you could feel the rusty springs bobbing you up and down. Pubs as you love to see (or feel) them.

Back up t'road, we came to today's third pub .....

Only two pints in and already the toe was feeling better, good stuff this ale, as we enter the Plough Inn, Wollaston (2587 / 4482). One of those pubs where you get your Cauli out for the lads and lasses, and you know he's going to go down a storm. Our barmaid had already provided a warm welcome and star quality, so no surprise she's shouting over wanting to know Colin's name and what he's doing here. When you look about the room and see how many of the old gents look a bit brassica'd, it is no surprise he's welcomed like an old friend. This Three Tuns ale from the ancient Bishop's Castle Brew Co. might only be 4.3%, but it is drinking about 6%. Pow, they don't make 'em like this anymore (well apart from this). I've got the cauli-wobbles now. And Daddy B's cryptic Humphrey Bogart (Bog Art) conundrum only made my brain swim further from its senses. Wollaston, I could live 'ere. Hic!

And yet, somehow in spite of the quality of what had gone before, we'd saved the best Wollaston pub til last:

I'm often hearing the #PubMen of Twitter fellate themselves silly over the prospect of Bathams, and now finally, as a junior #PubMan myself, I can see why! I had actually been to one of their houses called the Royal Exchange a few years back. Not GBG now, bare and basic, a bit busy & squashy. Yes I liked it but passed me by compared with this pub of the year contender, Unicorn, Wollaston (2588 / 4483). The two young barmaids are quick to tell us the choice is 'mild or bitter' and then appear to take a step back and smirk as if to say "how will these two out of town trendies deal without their DIPAs and NEIPAs and cheeky BRIPAs?" Well, we'll get onto Halton Turner later, but Daddy BRAPA reacted by saying "ee by gum, takes me back to 1967/68", I toss a mental coin, say 'bitter' quick as a flash (will be mild next time) and we order two Cheese, Onion and Black Pudding Cobs. Not male swans, but the Black Country name for a bread roll, barm, breadcake or stottie. Cos they are funny like that round here. You gotta get the lingo roight, and I was feeling so black country now, I was proper bostin', bab by now, or something. Idyllic pub room too, like perfection, there's even a David Jason signed photo saying how much he loves it. Loved him as Count Duckula. The bitter and the cob compliment each other so well, now that's what I call food/beer pairing, more 'yum yum' thank 'yam yam', sorry I'll stop now. Just time for some paid extras to wander into our eyeline, line the walls opposite just to complete the experience.

Back at Stourbridge Junction (the good one because it gets you out of Stourbridge quicker), I was fortunate to spot a new GBG tick close by which hadn't been in for over 20 years.

And my first question would have to be 'why?' NOT that we junior #PubMen are supposed to get all doughy eyed over the prospect of an enormous beer range - we're actually suppose to sneer and say "too many on to be possibly kept well, what are they thinking?" In a Bowland Beer Hall type of way. But although I only tried one of 25 here at the Seven Stars, Oldwinsford (2589 / 4484), you just suspect they are all great. You just have to look around. The place is packed full of pot bellied Brummies on their 58th pint each. Sir Quinno had been recently and observed, 'the locals get through the ales like whales get through krill'. Couldn't have put it better. The pub itself is another carpeted lounge lizard jewel, some fabulous tiling, and the back bar sweeping around to the loos is worth a look. The kind of pub you could have a crawl in, just by moving seats.

We were making great time, and it might not surprise you to hear that we both fell asleep on the train back into Brum and missed our Moor St. stop.

But a bit of quiche and juice on a platform in the middle of nowhere was just the ticket and we were soon back in the city ready for two final ticks before the train home.

This first place couldn't have been less Wollaston .....

You just have to observe Daddy BRAPA's before and after expressions to see how this place turned it around ..... I think we'd all be skeptical after what had gone before, as we head under the railway arches for hipster craft heaven Halton Turner, Digbeth, Birmingham (2590 / 4485). It was such an infectious vibrant happy place, booming industrial dance music, not Billy Joel or Amyl and the Sniffers but never mind, and the Mandarina Bavaria murk was drinking well. There was one lonely cask on, but felt like the kinda place you are best fully embracing the keg On the long wooden benches reminiscent of Pret a Manger, we are soon invaded by a chirpy bunch of twentysomethings, swarming us left and right, super friendly folk like Jess next to me with her piercings and Abi ("short for Abigail") next to Dad with her shortened name. They think BRAPA is "fire" and "so slay" (maybe), at one point I hear one of them say "awww, they are a father and son duo" to which another replies "well duh, obviously". Such lovely people, soon Dad's cap was on back to front and he's vibing and contemplating a back tattoo of a Jackson Pollock painting. Time to go.

Now if you've been following BRAPA since December 2021, you'll appreciate the significance of today's final tick, and it has been a long time coming ......

I might look like I'm just about to be ascended to heaven, but that's the 7 pints talking, no in fact Colmore, Birmingham (2591 / 4486) just left me as bored and unenthused as Head of Steam, Pint Shop and all those other busy bars a stones throw from New Street. I'm not even a Wellington fan, and most people love that one, so this really isn't a good part of the ticking world for me! Perhaps the most interesting part was that both bouncers this evening were female. 'Easier to justify keeping men out, or a sign they've learnt lessons from my bad experience?' My addled brain couldn't do the mental gymnastics to work that one out! Dad tells me I've inadvertently usurped a bloke from his seat by sitting in it! He didn't complain. "C'mon, you were NEVER going to enjoy it here!" says Daddy BRAPA, I try to protest I might have done, but then Quinno repeats this almost word for word in my Twitter replies. Thing is though, I do quite like York's Market Cat and L**ds Bankers Cat, but this just felt a sticky messy free for all.

In the absence of interesting indoor piccies, here was a toe update from around that time ....

And on that delightful note, it is goodnight from me. Catching up, less than a month behind again!

Until Friday, or more likely Sunday or Monday, take care and keep it pub.

Si