BRAPA in .... HATS OFF TO THE BRENTWOOD BOVVER BOYS (& LINCS DRINKS BONUS)
I was coming towards the end of the first summer Saturday in June, kindly chauffeured around by Simon & Daddy Dewhurst.
It had all been rather leafy, gentle, sleepy, lacking in incident, although I must say a step on the quality of pubs around Harlow and Newport I did last time out in Essex when my 2023 Good Beer Guide was looking a helluva lot less moth eaten.
After two beer garden pints, I could feel face and neck burning and couldn't help feeling that Simon's decision to wear a hat had been wise.
With our guards well and truly down, it was time to end our day by tackling Brentwood's 'new' entry ......
Two incredibly smiley barmaids beam expectantly as we arrive at the Rising Sun, Brentwood (2513 / 4407) .... and when I say 'incredibly smiley', I mean 'been asked to appear in a hostage video convincing their loved ones they haven't been harmed' smiley. It all starts to make sense when a man who I assume is the guv'nor whooshes through from left to right, tersely barking at Simon to remove his hat! In a move reminiscent of my 'Elford Illegal Photo Horrorshow' a few months back, this was quite the Hitchcockian cameo with the emphasis on 'cock'. Did we look like ruffians? Wouldn't asking nicely be better? The barmaiderly smiles intensify to jaw shattering, cheekbone tensing levels, perhaps to reassure us, perhaps to say 'please don't sack us in the morning', it was hard to tell. I always think a hat removal request tells you more about the clientele who frequent a pub, and soon a bloodcurdling cockney cry of derision aimed at Manchester United by a group of ladz (who all look like confirmed hat wearers) can be heard. Pints in hand, we turn the corner to see a two dimensional bloke looking straight at us ..... uh oh, cardboard cut out Declan Rice. Lacking the personality of Colin the Cauliflower. An 'ammers pub eh, now it really WAS making sense! Though I should add, Simon is a West Ham fan himself. Had it been a cardboard cut out Jarrod Bowen, my Hull City sensibilities might've seen me liking the place a bit more. May I predict that Fake Declan will be burned atop a ceremonial pub bonfire in the coming weeks? For balance, I must add that my Timmy Taylor Landlord is drinking supremely well, but feeling vaguely unwelcome, we don't make any attempt to sit down, just a case of supping up and half pretending to watch EVIL Man U against kind gentle law abiding underdogs Man City. Yeah, right(!) Pub culture though, you've gotta love it.
'You're getting binned in the morning!' (Declan, not the poor bloke)
Reminds me I had a hat incident once, post-football match, rough pub close to Fratton Park, Portsmouth Nov 2008. A 55 year old Dean Windass bobbled one in off his beer gut to earn us a 2-2 draw. Was teeming with rain, and seconds after entering the pub, hat on, landlord barks "no hats allowed", I wail "it is raining out there!", he replies "not in my pub it ain't!" Fair point, but not liking being told what to do by a snappy BRAPA crapper, I took my pint out into the rain and drank it with my hat on, texting Daddy B. my coordinates!
Back to the present day, and Back in London, I did something I hadn't done for almost as long ago as 2008 and went to the Euston Tap for a change of pace from the usual Parcel Yard, though I must admit I missed my ESB! It was always heaving in those days, today I not only got upstairs but it was empty apart from the ghost of an ex U.S. President. At least I could finally appreciate what a nice place it really is.
Fast forward to the following Thursday and again the weather catches me out as I trek to Grantham, which provides a rich seam for future #ThirstyThursdays with an easy route from York, and plenty of potential for pubs not only going all the way out to Skegness, but back the other way towards Leics (Bottesford area) and Notts.
Can't believe how long it has taken me to realise!
BRAPA being BRAPA, I decide to attempt some of the tougher stuff first.
I board a bus as far as a place called Barkston, with the intention of walking the 3 miles to Marston. Station Road / Sand Lane is a lot more horrible than I'm expecting, angry traffic whooshing down it, and after five days of grey rainy chill, the sun is suddenly beating down hard and I'm ill prepared.
By the time I reach the pub, I'm a glowing sweaty mess!
My initial impression of the Thorold, Marston (2514 / 4408) isn't exactly as glowing as my skin, I never trust a pub with a clear glass door. I'm here for a pint, not to ask about a tax rebate. Inside, all seems fairly blanded out dining, you could say 'typically Lincolnshire'. But you know what ALWAYS makes the difference, amazing people and quality ale. And this place has both. Such a warm welcome, especially from the landlady who goes into full mother-hen mode when she sees the state of me, even telling me off for being unprepared with no water bottle or sun cream, and it makes me inwardly chuckle when she says this next line .... "Did you not think to bring a hat?" She demands I drink a pint of water alongside my fabulous Bateman's Yella Belly. "I'll even put ice and lemon in for you, luv!" and I'm relieved when I realise she's referring to the water, not beer. They then hold a series of doors open for me so I can carry my drinks, directing me outside onto a breezy perfectly manicured lawn overlooking the village church. "I don't get this level of service in most pubs!" I tell them, and I'm serious, despite their laughter. Everyone else outside smiles and shouts 'hello'. Talk about feel good factor, maybe that awful walk had been worth it.
Having returned both glasses to the bar and thanked the pub once more for their hospitality, they actually encourage me that the walk on to Fulbeck 'isn't too far'. Morale boosting. Well, I am stranded in the middle of rural Lincs so I may as well.
I never look at the mileage but the 25K step count on my phone next day, plus the state of my legs and hips when I arrive back in Grantham later suggest it has been further than anticipated. More unwise road walking too, although I found it slightly easier to avoid the traffic on this section. Please don't do it though, get a taxi or your WAG to drive you.
As I hobble gamely towards the Hare & Hounds, Fulbeck (2515 / 4409), rattling like an old crone, I'm thinking this pub looks encouraging. But yet again, it is a case of 'Now That's What I Call Another Lincolnshire Dining Pub'. However, it has enough heart and spirit to make up for a lack of traditional pub wholesomeness, and it isn't long before I get chatting to a lovely chap called Phil, clashing badly with his orange shirt due to a post-Majorca tan. "Some of my best mates who've died have died on that stretch of road you've just walked on" he tells me theatrically before adding more cheerfully "still, you lived to tell the tale so all good!" With plenty time to kill (excuse the pun) before the next bus back to Grantham, he says he'll buy me a pint, so this time I go for Timmy Taylor's crafty keg offering which I'm assured has been around ages despite having never seen it before. "Oi. You been living under a rock?" someone asks quite harshly! Phil then gives me lift to the corner even though it is about a 30 second walk. Nice chap.
And there we have it. If ever you needed a BRAPA blog to illustrate the importance of people to your enjoyment of a pub, I think this is it!
I'll be back tomorrow, where we'll get back into Grantham for their GBG newbies, and then dip our toes into Eastbourne, but don't mention toes, cos I've damaged my little one and had to cancel my York pub trip with my friends tonight cos I can barely walk!
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