Having successfully negotiated three of Gwent's more isolated ticks, at Upper Llanover (BOOM!), Mamhilad (BOOM!) and Nant-y-Derry (SHAKE THE ROOM!), I have to confess I was running out of pub ticking options in this particular part of Wales. I wasn't the only thing ticking this afternoon, time was ticking on too after all those long walks, and I didn't want to leave myself too far from The 'Gavenny where I was staying.
Hopping aboard the school bus to Blaenavon made the most sense. Daddy And Mummy BRAPA had loved it here last year, being all UNESCO Heritage Site and exciting steam railway museums and shizz.
But all I could do was bemoan the fact they'd built it on a steep hill. My right knee (which I don't like to talk about) was flaring up again after another plus 25K walk - and to think I came out 'inactive' in today's health check over in Acomb. 'Inactive' my foot! Or should I say knee?
In the late afternoon mizzly drizzly squall, at least the pub was visible from a distance .....
'Eat sleep relax', pub sign painted on wall? Hmmm, I wouldn't have been at all convinced by the Lion Hotel, Blaenavon (2446 / 4010) if Daddy BRAPA hadn't raved about it, mainly due to the fact he got talking to a bloke called Geoff about growing veg. Which really just shows that pubs are so often 'what is like on the day' experiences. In this moment, it simply passed me by. The few locals present were engrossed in lively conversation. They smiled in that vague rural Welsh way which vague rural Welsh people do, perhaps even throwing me and Brekkie the Sheep a few amused glances, but the place was quiet, wooden and cavernous. The barman had said 'good things come to those who wait' as I patiently waited for my Jemima's Pitchfork (not Guinness) to be topped up. That was about as interesting as it got, it was a good drop, and at least I'm glad to see the pub remain in the 2023 GBG, on a day when only TWO of my FIVE ticks did so. Grrrr.
Back in Abergavenny, it was the blackest of evenings, Dylan Thomas would probably describe it as a crow in a coal mine or something (but where does the time go when you are pub ticking?) and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep easy unless I salvaged a fifth tick from what had been a testing day.
With my knee still giving me the irrits, as we say down under, I hobbled in the direction of the taxi (tacsi) rank which was just outside Tesco Express. With nothing doing, I popped into Tesco for my evening snacks, and to my immense joy, when I re-emerged in the street, a taxi was waiting! The only taxi I saw in Gwent all week? I think so.
The female taxi driver looks relieved to see me, because a psychotic version of Duncan Goodhew is leering in through the driver window, no intention of going anywhere, I think he just wanted to chat her up. She wanted an excuse to get the hell out of there. No she doesn't want to see your puppies, and you certainly aren't seeing hers! Get me to the 'Gelli.
Pantygelli isn't far from town, two and a bit mile (by my standards - inactive my arse!), but with the knee and the dark, my mind was made up. She volunteers to pop back for me in 27.5 minutes (well, half an hour) for an added bonus point. I was so excited to be here, in what was a really busy, bustling outdoor scene, I forgot to take this photo, and had to return half way through my pint ......
Crown Inn, Pantygelli (2447 / 4011) is now run by one of the youngest pub couples in Wales, people kept telling me before my visit, which might explain why it hasn't made the 2023 GBG if that change happened in the last year. It definitely felt GBG worthy as I step up to the bar , expecting to see Bass as listed but alas no. I interrogate the older barmaid who says she'll ask the possibly cherub faced Mr Crown when she gets chance, after all, I've got WickingMan duties to fulfil i.e see if the pub still belongs in his Bass Directory. Not only that, I'm hiding a secret under my coat! Ooo err. A Bass t-shirt. I feel like an away fan in the home end. Do I keep my coat zipped up or go for the flash? Does everyone else have HPA, Butty Bach and Grey Trees shirts on? There's plenty of food flying out of the kitchen, so I'm glad the pub seems to have a distinctive drinkers area front right, even if it does just host me, Brekkie and three local farmers. I keep smiling over at them like I'm a kindred spirit, but my Bass rant obviously unnerved them. Don't get me wrong, I really rate this place. Strong. Smelt of autumn. Smoky and serene, despite the foody left. Grey Trees is on top form. Finally the food calms down, I pointedly return my empty glass with an elaborate thank you. This jogs older barmaid's brain into life. "Ooh I nearly forgot!" She grabs Mr Crown and asks the Bass question. "No, we've not had it on since June, simply wasn't selling with the locals". Hard words to hear. "What? Even though it is the best beer ever?" I retort, and I should really have unzipped my jacket at this point for full effect. "Oh, is it?" says Mr Crown. But my taxi is here, so I leave in what I hope is a flouncy flourish. And that was it for the night. I fully expect to see this pub return to the 2024 GBG.
My penultimate Gwentish day dawned with a final trip back to the Newport area, where I still had a couple of outliers, plus one in town, and as it would turn out, a pre-emptive come good.
The bus took me to the peculiar, but quite beautiful little town of Usk, with river, fabulous market place, slight stench of twee, and a population that was either under 25 or over the age of 80.
The pub, when it came into view, looked sort of promising If I ignore the fact I rarely enjoy the 'eat, drink, (fall a)sleep' chain ......
.... but if you've ever witnessed a pub swimming against the tide, clinging to a rock for dear life, in a sea of choppy pub uncertainty and fragility, then the New Court Inn, Usk (2448 / 4012) encapsulated the struggles of pub life in 2022 to perfection. I can't describe why, but I picked up on this atmosphere even before two couples rocked up for lunch, only to be turned away because the kitchen was closed due to lack of chef. End result? Me as the only customer, supping his Bass (yes, this pub did keep its Bass promise) from a plush red leather sofa. Tasted ok, but a slight haziness, it wasn't the best Bass this week. Perhaps having a Welsh crime novel called "You Will Die" staring at me throughout didn't help either, for the guv'nor was a lovely chap, could've easily got chatting had I not gone to sit so far away with the random pile of logs. But the pub was eerily silent. Firing up the woodburner might've helped. Three folk finally walk in as I'm on the way out, hope for the future perhaps? This pub remains in the 2023 GBG, but here's my bold prediction, it won't see the 2024 edition.
There was another pub along this bus route, back in the direction of Newport. And it is from there where we will start part 13 tomorrow.
See ya then, Si
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