Tuesday 21st October 2025
It was an early Hallowe'en scare-a-thon on day three of my attempt to tick every Good Beer Guide in the Greater Glasgow & Clyde Valley region.
Every BRAPA holiday, it happens. There's always ONE day where I feel that the pub gods aren't particularly smiling on me, that luck isn't in my favour, like 'why did I remove that lucky rabbit foot off the BRAPA keyring?', 'why did I walk under that ladder in Gorbals?', 'why did I adjust the horseshoe on that pub wall yesterday?'
The misfortune starts as early as breakfast time at my Adagio Aparthotel which I'd booked the previous night to save £4. £12 instead of £16. Still ouch! Well, it looked delicious on their website .... but in reality, the haggis is gritty, the eggs powdery, and there's no mushrooms, beans, hash browns, neeps, tatties, grilled or plum tomatoes, the toast machine was Krypton Factor levels. A random plate of sliced cucumber sits on the side. 'No one's gonna want that for breakfast' I muse, just as a stern Canadian lady takes the lot! I try some fruit salad too but very watery.
Well I won't be doing that again, and rush out to buy six eggs, some butter, Irn Bru and a tin of 40p haggis for future home cooked breakfasts .... which we'll review in part four.
But this IS a pub blog, lest we forget.
I convince myself that I should've boarded the Linwood bus which probably goes through to Houston without really advertising the fact. But no! Just as I'm giving up hope and contemplating a train to Lochwinnoch/Johnstone as a back up plan, our Kilmacolm X7 whizzes around the corner. Phew! A rare win today.
Houston, we (thankfully) don't have a problem.
On this greyest dampest of mornings, you can probably see from the above photo why I was fearing a 'shut pub alert' but no, the mythical black door pushes open with ease, I smell the old fashioned fustiness in the corridor, and I'm in Fox & Hounds, Houston (3086 / 5927), what we call in the trade 'an understated, underrated gem'. The barmaid is thrilled to learn of BRAPA, she's my fave staff of the holiday so far so I let her wield the Stabilo. The Orkney Puffin had flown off, but nae bother, this Tim Taylor Landlord is A* quality and I'm amazed it isn't a member of their 'Champion Club' - can only think they don't come this far north to inspect! As in Affetside a few days ago, I take a leather armchair by the fire and our host is backwards n forwards, topping up the kindling and asking me a few more pub ticking related questions. So comfy, there was no chance I was going to dash for the tightly timed bus. But I was in a predicament because even though Bridge of Weir looks walkable, the two roads on to Kilbarchan look anything but. Stranded! But our Houston angel gives me a taxi number, and jeez, outside of Uber, speaking to a human on the phone, it must be the EASIEST taxi order I've done it my life. See, it wasn't all bad luck.
After taxi company and angel laugh at me for mispronouncing Kilbarchan (it is Kil-bark-n, no 'ch'. who knew?) I'm soon at the door of pub two .....
Hmm, so where's the ales? That's my first concern at Habbies Bar & Grill, Kilbarchan (3087 / 5928), I don't even see the two handpumps turned around as our bubbly host Angela points me towards the keg Bitter & Twisted. Key Keg? Strong doubt. Burptastic! Such is the lack of cask acknowledgement, I'd think the place simply didn't do it anymore if it wasn't for local GBG completist and pub ticking legend Duncan Mackay later branding me 'very unlucky' not to see any. The pub itself is pretty airy and unremarkable, but it is all made more than bearable by Angela, with the spookiest fingernails west of Glasgow. Chats to me throughout, apologising for her M.O.R. playlist which actually had some decent 'choones' on, oh and Loose Women which was harder to forgive(!) After a bit of gentle Ed Gein chatter, she introduces me to main man Fraser who owns my next pub tick too, over in Johnstone. He's off now but says he might see me in there. I wonder if he's off to source some real ale! Tells me I'll be served by Cara, and I should freak her out by knowing her name. Fine, it's a deal!
So a short bus ride to Johnstone and then a shimmy down the main street ......
Cosy little interior at Callum's, Johnstone (3088 / 5929) , a few exciting beams and curvy bits of bench seating, not unlike the Fox & Hounds in some ways. Bitter & Twisted on handpull this time, hurrah! But no, alas it splutters and dies and being the only one on, we now had two consecutive caskless pubs. C'mon Fraser mate, get the ales on! Brixton Reliance it was. Nicer flavour, less burpy than the B&T keg. At least this beer 'callum'o'fludging allows me to say "you're Cara aren't you?" "How d'you know that?" "Oh, I just have this skill of looking at people's faces and immediately knowing their names!" "Fuckkk offffff!" She looked scared, so I'm forced to admit the truth! It doesn't lead to the levels of chat I'd had with our Houston and Kilbarchan angels, though once the scary bar blocker departs, she apologises once more for the lack of ale and after a bit of light BRAPA chat, I bid her good day and rush down for the train back to Glasgow. The marginally more difficult first half of today was complete.
A change of trains back in Glasgae takes me doon to East Kilbride where I have two ticks, one on the same train line, and most challenging of all, a 4:30pm opener on a bus route. Candidate for hardest tick of the week.
Maybe I can whip in the 'Spoons quickly before the bus, having 25 mins at a push? But it doesn't materialise, for reasons we'll address later, so for now, it is a bus to Strathaven (pronounced Stray-ven, who knew? Thankfully, I googled it seconds before bus pulled in, so I didn't make a tit of myself.
"You coming back tonight?" asks the driver, mild panic in his eyes. I confirm I am. 'Well, make sure you're at the stop early because I'll be driving and it is the last one today and you don't wanna get stranded out here!" Terrifying stuff!
It wasn't quite 4:30pm so I went to a bakery for a snack and shivered under an awning, rain dripping on my nose whilst eating at. Even after opening, our pub is looking very dead as I wander the perimeter looking for signs of life trying not to panic!
In the Pub Tickers Whatsapp group, Duncan is asking me how today is going and I didn't realise he lived more Kilbarchan than Paisley or he'd have happily taken me around, which is a shame. I tell the gang where I am and Maltmeister makes a 'good pub looming' joke! Course he does ..... Weavers, Strathaven (3089 / 5930) you see. Funny man eh? Good pub it is though. Main man Brendan is absolutely top class. Just when I didn't think he'd better Kilbarchan Angela, Cara Who Can Be Named and the Houston Angel, today may've had its struggles but the people were spot on, and this is Scottish BRAPA for you, I always think the people are absolute salt of the earth welcoming. They deserve that 4-2 Denmark win just for that, just say a prayer for any Danish Scotland dwellers eh, eh? Brendan apologises for late opening .... 'I'd seen you across the road and thought 'I hope that guy isn't wanting to get in!' Well I was. All forgiven now, whilst a smart modern interior, it is warm, comfy and the Otherworld Abyss Porter is heavenly, or is it hell-ly? Brendan approves of my green Stabilo being a Celtic fan, so I let him do the highlighting - gawd, he presses down so hard, catholic thing? Then he lets me have a photo behind the bar. #ProperPub And the main local likes me too cos he's had the exact same bad East Kilbride 'Spoons experience as me ....which I WILL get to. AND the quieter scampi fries & lager businessman seems a nice guy too. A heartwarming pub experience.
The bus driver asks if I enjoyed my pint and is pleased I made it, and before long, we've whizzed back to East Kilbride bus station, and the non-Spoons pub is actually staring at me in the face when I hop off ......
Glorious! I loved Hudson's, East Kilbride (3090 / 5931). A bus station loony. It is a riot of noise, jollity and impending bingo. Eyes down, BRAP in. The barmaid still finds time to engage me in chat despite the pressure on her to get ten thirsty Scottish faces served before we get our dabbers wet. She's pleased I've gone for a straight glass over handled jug. Like me, she finds drinking out of them a trial. You won't find a less fussy pub than this. The carpet is a healthy 8. I walk around the large island bar looking for a space. Perch on a side edge. Like in Partick's Lismore, it doesn't detract from my enjoyment in any way. Whenever 'sexy legs 11' gets announced, wolf whistles echo through the place. Former Kilbride 'mean girl' Anne wins the first round. Not universally popular. She won't care when she's frying up those pork chops tonight. The 'Bitter & Twisted' drinks very nicely. On cask too, never thought I'd see that today.
Morale suitably boosted, I was feeling that I could conquer the world, and good job because I wasn't looking forward to my second attempt at this rather grim edge of shopping centre 'Spoons .......
So before Strathaven, I'd tried to whip in Hay Stook, East Kilbride (3091 / 5932) quickly only to be denied. Vaguely aware of an elderly woman hovering behind the bloke getting served, I'd done what any sane person would do and move forwards along the bar. It is rather compact, shallow but like all good 'Spoons, it does have a long wide bar. There is or was a comparable 'Spoons in a shopping centre in either Hammersmith or Shepherd's Bush, I forget which, but wasn't a fan of that either due to the smothering immediacy of it. Anyways, after I've been ignored THREE times for people arriving from my right, I ask our barmaid what's afoot. Queuing is mandatory I'm told, "we've always done it like that, it works for us". I explode into a rant about the space available, wide bar, shallow space, potential for crazy bottle necks, I'm full of wild hand gestures! She's rolling her eyes like I'm being totally unreasonable. Bring back Angela, the Houston Angel, Cara, Fraser, Brendan and Little Miss Straightglass, pleeease! I spin around to see the single file queue is now six deep. Fuck that. That's when I go and find the bus stop and get myself off to the Weavers, where I recount my tale and find out the loudest local has had the EXACT same experience as me. Difference of course being that I can't avoid a GBG pub on principal like him! Stupid ticking.
So I'm back, thankfully no queue or I'd have sat down and used the App to order. She recognises me, but we both decide to start afresh and have a semi-pleasant exchange without address their idiot elephant in the bar. Well, until I try using my Mudgie voucher and she tells me "I don't think we accept these, I'll just go and check with my manager" and walks to the end of the bar, whispers with a spotty yoof for 2 mins, and returns with some half baked excuse involving strength of beer and time of week. Of course we know the real reason. I take it on the chin. Not getting upset over 50p. I sit and sup, every single staff member walking past gives me (and the innocent Owlie McBurnie) a dirty look. Kinda empowering, I'm not gonna lie, and the Nethergate Harvest Stout drinks nicely, if a bit sour but that's just me! With apologies to The Beatles, I spent my 25 mins composing a little song ......
"Hay Stook, don't be a twat,
Take a bad 'Spoons, and make it shitter
Remember, don't let pub queues into your heart
Cos if you do, BRAPA will be bitter"
Thanks.
Although I'd done my six pub quota, there's one more stop on my train route back to Glasgow, and I only did five ticks yesterday so an unwise seventh seemed to make sense ......
Notable mainly for its entire lack of incident and character which was quite a relief after my last tick, White Cart, Busby (3092 / 5933) is a reassuringly dull cavernous GK dining pub. A randy distant couple rattle some keys, chuckle and wink from afar. There's another couple shuffling around the carpark in the dark. Swinging? Dogging? Half n half? Swogging? Dinging? Make up your minds. My forced friendly interaction with the bored barmaid is pretty cringe as I try to recreate brilliant staff moments of earlier today, but at least it yields a fresh pint of Yardbird, one of those ales I never quite trust. I'm told not to walk right, and ensure I sit to the left. Bizarre in a near empty pub, if they expect to suddenly fill up with diners between now and last orders, they are highly optimistic. Hull City hold on to beat Leicester to cheer my heart, so I send Daddy B. a couple of messages, and that was that. A tough but rewarding day three complete. It'd get easier again tomorrow.
Part 4 won't be with you for over a week because the final BRAPA holiday of the year begins tomorrow afternoon. Join me over on TwXtter and B.S. for that. And to the rest of you, see you December!
Keep it pub, and try not to queue for a pint. Si
Comments