Wednesday 18th October 2023, 17:30
From York to L**ds to Shipley, and then straight onto a bus bound for the suburban village of Thackley for the second time in BRAPA history. I previously ticked the Black Rat on 5th September 2017 in that golden era where new GBGs were received before August Bank Holiday weekend.
After some school kids got excited by an electric bus, I found myself the only customer left onboard as we chugged around some obscure Thackley backstreets. I press the bell. He drives on. I press it again with more certainty. He scratches his ear like he's hearing things. "Where do you wanna get off mate?" he finally shouts, like a man who has never driven a bus before in his life. He dumps me in a pile of wet leaves. I snarl and walk five minutes to the pub.
At the sign of West Yorkshire's shiniest mobility scooter stood this intimate micro, some might say 'poky' if it wasn't for the mystery staircase leading to a possibly large upstairs room. I'll forever remember by 27.5 minutes spent at the Ainsbury, Thackley (2470 / 4627). The owners were away, a tactic often employed by pub stuff when they get a whiff that BRAPA is in the vicinity, but if Lauren was the B-team, she deserves promoting, or the pub renaming in her honour. She nurses blind greyhounds back to health in her spare time (or something along those lines, I forget the details). Ably assisted by a gaggle of bonkers locals happy to see their pub open for the first time this week (it is closed Monday & Tuesday), my GBG is mistaken for more serious reading material. "If you wanted to read your book in peace, you've come to the wrong place!" cries Lauren, over a sea of interestingly shaped heads. This of course is the perfect cue to reveal my motives for being here. Colin is introduced, and despite a bit of initial skeptism, we're quick to win them over. Fly-by-night pub ticking at its finest. A great set of lads and lasses, and a top quality pint too.
I take local advice on where the more sensible bus stops are than the one I got off at, just four minutes away on the High Street, and before long, I'm back in Shipley for tick two.
Not sure the homeless dudes outside are pub affiliated, but throw them a quid if you can, Special Brew ain't as cheap as it used to be .....
Feels like my 30th trip to good ole' Shippers, but it keeps churning the GBG pubs out, and Crafty Kernel, Shipley (2471 / 4628) is the latest offering. In fact, the town holds a special place in BRAPA history - the only place where I've been given a drink without a glass! That was at the Sir Norman Rae Wetherspoons. No such problem here, though the livewire barman seems a bit surprised by my 'Nightjar Milk Stout' pint selection. "Oh, is it okay? Not too sweet?" I ask, noticing his furrowed brow. "Don't ask me, I'm a lager drinker!" he replies with reassuring honesty. Surprisingly large micropub once you are in, the healthy age range spans 20-80, and although a lot of kind eyes turn to me, I'm never in any danger of getting into any Thackley style chatter. There is record player on the bar, a very bassy sound system, and folk occasionally pull a giant vinyl out of their back pocket (no mean feat!) for the guv'nor to pop on, I'm expecting the sort of 60's obscure novelty classics to make 'SeetheLizards' blush, but The Corrs and Fleetwood Mac are as edgy as it gets. A camp man with a notable earring announces he hates fish on pizza, and that is that.
A train to Bradford follows, where I'm checking in for the night, but whilst I'm out and about, I decide I may as well get my third and final tick done.
Wibsey is the village in question, and what a struggle it is to flag down a bus to take me there. One drives past because I'm not quick enough, another doesn't show, and I end up chatting with a perky young Asian couple roaming the late night streets with a double buggy, much Red Bull and an optimistic outlook on Bradford buses which keeps me believin' as the time ticks past 19:30.
With a chilly mist descending, I then get lost looking for the pub (obvious in hindsight that it was going to be situated on the main road, but for some reason, I decided it'd be down a cul-de-sac).
Six years since my only other trip to the village, that was to tick the 'Hooper Micropub' but in keeping with 2024 Good Beer Guide tradition, they've stuck a big bulky traditional boozer in the book to supplement it. Dog & Gun, Wibsey (2472 / 4629) is bouncing bawdily like a Friday night. Talking of bouncing bawdily, so shocked am I to see the barmaid wearing a Sex Pistols top (Wibsey being the least punk place in Yorkshire), I realise I'm staring at her chest whilst she's serving me. She's noticed too. So I go awkward. Then I seem ever more weird. And with the collar on my long black cape billowing up, and my red gloves, it just compounds my Ripperian misery. Couldn't she have been into The Corrs or Fleetwood Mac like the rest of outer Bradford, then it would've been a much more straightforward transaction?! To make matters worse, Jovial John (look of Mark E Smith, voice of Alan Bennett) spins around on his barstool, desperate to 'collar' this poor unfortunate victim (that's me) for a chat about the head on my Kirkstall Three Swords, so I briefly acquiesce, but no way I'm asking her for a top up, I am just desperate to leave the bar area. Then my big head blocks the TV, I smile at everyone distantly, and leave before anything else happens.
And that's the ticking done, just two to go in West Yorkshire.
I check in at Bradford Premier Inn, and decide to make use of the bar facilities because it is BRAPA tradition, even though a last orders pint at a Corn Dolly or Jacob's Well would've obviously garnered better ale options and hubbub.
Brewdog Lost Lager, then a nice big glass of Tempranillo because it was the closest thing to ESB. Nice and sociable despite the antiseptic surroundings. A Stella drinking lorry man from Somerset. Ladies with green eye shadow blowing bubbles who later assemble some fairy lights. And then a man from Nottingham who can't get any answers.
And then a bit of supper and straight to bed, because I had a date with RetiredMartin and South Yorkshire completion on the following day. Join me for tales of that one tomorrow night.
Si
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