BRAPA in .... HOW DEEP IS YOUR CELLAR? SOMERSET HEATWAVE PT 8/9

Tuesday 23rd June 2026

Day three of The Heatwave™, and today it was hiking up to 33-35 degrees and the BBC breakfast news had whipped me into a state of paranoid terror, like I'd literally melt if I spent one minute exposed to the sun.

I took a train up to Weston-super-Mare once again. No ticks remain in the town, but it has a more useful bus service than Taunton. I sit outside a shut station cafe and sup Arctic coffee feeling as cosmopolitan as anyone can is this mediocre seaside town.

Mind those white bits don't burn Col

20 minutes later and the bus still ain't showing. I'm just starting to make a few casual taxi enquiries (England are playing tonight so I need to keep to time so that I can get back to Taunton for kick off) when it finally appears.

The jolly driver tells me and the old guy waiting there'd be an incident involving a tree(!), but we should be able to make up some time now.

But it's a painful arse drag along narrow roads, cyclists we can't pass. roadworks everywhere, as we finally chug into Axbridge just past 11:30am, half an hour behind schedule but I guess any pre-noon pub start is a win as Daddy BRAPA will tell you on any given car day.

Impressive, professional if flouncy Butcombe house in the middle of town, Lamb, Axbridge (3515 / 6305) has cool inner exposed stone walls although it is their World Cup sweepstake board which catches my eye. The genial barman is quick to 'admire' my new anniversary Somerset County Cricket Club shirt. The most garish thing in my wardrobe, which is an achievement in itself. The expected maroon element is full on bright pink! This was my first time wearing it. Good material in sweaty heat though, non-stick like Bacofoil. 'You got a nice deep cellar here?' I ask him. Following on from yesterday's Weston-super-Mare beer struggles, I'd decided to change tact in my beer interrogation. He confirms it is probably even deeper than the Red Lion in Histon which is notoriously deep, and I'm pleased to find the Gold on top form. I sit down, sup quick and smile at waitresses from a safe distance. A random guy walks in with a swagger and announces his dislike of kilt wearing Cornish train drivers who flash their goolies in public. Weirdly specific, but I ask no questions. I guess working for GWR can do that to a man.

Conscious of the ever growing heat, I'm delighted to see how close our next pub is to Axbridge on foot.

There's even a farm track to save me getting squashed although the pub is situated at Somersetonian road junction. Seriously I've never known a county where the road layout is so out of sync with the rural topography. Crossing over really needs a second pair of eyes but I made it unscathed .....

GBG stalwart New Inn, Cross (3516 / 6306) feels a very worthwhile visit. A 'double dotter' mean top beer scores too. Can I get away without asking the game old bird behind the bar 'how deep is your cellar?' 'It won't even touch the sides Si!' Errrm, we are still talking about beer aren't we? Anyway, the reality is that we chat about the famous heatwave. The Bristol Independence can't live up to its CAMRA 'Supreme Gold Champion' standard, but I'd give it a juicy bronze. A plain unpretentious rambling old pub that speaks for itself, in a side room to the right I find a mini-fan to cool me down. An amusing misunderstanding follows when a sweaty local dude shambles his way in, exchanges a few heatwave pleasantries , so I tell I'm I've found a fan, but because it is out of view, he thinks I'm talking about Colin Jnr. "I thought you meant that ice cream thing on the table was your main supporter!" "Ice cream thing? He's a cauliflower mate!" Oh how we chuckled. Solid pub, but I had a decision to make ....

My number one fan

Like the pub location, my day was at a crossroads.

I'm heading in the direction of Wells where I had three to tick. This route would take me through Cheddar, but the bus doesn't stop near their out-of-town brewery tap, the road looks awful for pedestrians and I can't see an obvious OS route - NOT that I'd be wanting to walk far today.

On a cooler day, I may've even considered Priddy, Glastonbury etc. but I couldn't shake those images of going the full Jay Slater so ring for a speculative Uber. I'll shelve the others for my October revisit when I'm staying in Bath or Brizzle. I'm delighted when Uber pick up ASAP and is fairly cheap for once.

Awful location, poxy set up at Cheddar Tap Room, Cheddar (3517 / 6307). One of those brewery taps like Guisborough where the absolute minimum has been done to create a comfy experience for the punter. In total contrast with the excellent Quantock. Even boring Titsey which I'd do a few weeks later in Surrey is superior. The two shady outdoor seats are taken, indoors there's room for six to sit in a small communal area. There's a random dartboard too, so don't drink too much and pierce those tanks. Not sure cellars are a thing here so I ask the lads which of their beers are selling best (it's what RetiredMartin would do) and select a Piney Sleight IPA - cool and refreshing but lacks the zing of its description. An Essexy gang enter, one has his top off ."Oi oi oi ladzzzz lets get on the flights cos we're shite, wahey". The lasses are all botox fishlips and lashes. Glad they decide to go and burn in the sun. No idea how this place works in winter. Maybe they erect a tent. I'm soon joined by a couple from Hemel Hempstead, then swiftly by two cycling guys from Wimbourne Dorset, so I wow them both with pub knowledge in their towns ("Pamphill? Even we've not been there!") but Mr HH turns to face the Wimbourne blokes, shutting me out of the convo! Mrs HH looks throws me an apologetic glance but nae bother, my vital second Uber has come through. Wells here we come.

Hard part of the day done, I'm on the crest of a (very warm) wave as my taxi drops me in Wells.

Three (quite forgettable) ticks and a long bus ride to Taunton just after 5pm follow .....

White Hart, Wells (3518 / 6308) promises much. The 'beeriest' too. It has more Tudor front than Henry VIII telling Anne of Cleves that she's an ugly cow. But it fails to manifest to internal joy and is easily the weakest of my Wells three. No way I'm asking this young barmaid 'how deep is your cellar?' especially with her three pink-faced girlfriends in short shorts milling around the bar keeping her company with lots of giggling. She suggests I opt for the Arbor Blue Sky Drinking (number 14 on a beer list that begins at 10 weirdly, maybe 1-9 is all Madri & stuff?) which is 'proving popular with the locals'. I'm not really in a Best Bitter mood but I can't ignore a glowing recommendation. Warm and soupy and the pub is dull so now I feel annoyed. The toilet floor gives the impression it is sentient in its attempts to dry itself, but that might just be how my mind works, and all is dull otherwise.

Across the market place I go and I've decided Wells air smells cleaner than Taunton & WSM.

Crown, Wells (3519 / 6309) is my pick of the trio, the longer I'm here the more I rate it as a bona fide boozer. Less ornate than the White Hart is every way (in fact when I'd walked in, I thought 'boring'), which just shows you cannot judge from appearances alone and why I've always found the idea of 'heritage pub ticking' potentially disappointing. The Cheddar Potholer is my pint of the day, even better quality than in their own Tap. The main lady takes no prisoners, but does everything with a sly nod and a wink (not sure if we got into deep cellar chat) and it was so long ago, I can't remember much else which at least keeps my word count down.

Despite not lingering at any point today, I didn't have THAT much time to get to my final pub, get a pint supped, and make the final direct bus of the day back to Taunton in time for the World Cup .....

Off-piste but presumably handy for a bus stop, Sheep & Penguin, Wells (3520 / 6310) leaves me with even fewer memories than the other two. The Mermaid till recently, it has won CAMRA awards for 'pub conversion' but as it is now an anodyne (good Daddy BRAPA word) bar rather than pub, I wonder if the Mermaid was pubbier. On the plus side, more good Cheddar ale, this was Seismic Shift, a lilting New Zealand fruit flake. Apart from a brief spell of rating the upholstery 9/10 due to another carpet fail (why does Wells hate carpets?), I chat to the main man for the duration but can't remember a word that was said. Every chance I'll be back in Wells in a couple of months for a stagger around the cathedral grounds combined with a new tick, or it might just be a handy bus interchange for Glasto n co.

The bus ride back to Taunton was quite hellish, not enough water or air ......

... but Tesco had the air con ramped up to 11. Bliss, so I cooled off my skin and bought the kind of food that might pair well with a heroic England performance.

A 0-0 bore draw with Ghana followed, but having managed Cape Coast Ebusua Mysterious Dwarves for several years (on Football Manager), I was kinda pleased for the African lads.

One day to go on this epic hol, and I was being forced to think outside the Somerset box which I will tell you about either tomorrow or Friday.

Keep it pub, Si