This summer's 'Welly Outing' (named after Hull's once brilliant but now shut Wellington Inn) was a poorly attended event this year.
Possibly a combination of train strikes and because the majority of potential attendees know Grimsby's boozers like the back of their hands!
But where there's a will there's a way, and alongside Daddy BRAPA and Colin the Cauliflower, we took an early train from York, changing at Doncaster, for my 'emotional' almost debut in the much maligned NE Lincolnshire town.
I say almost because I once wandered up from Cleethorpes to the fabulously unpretentious Spider's Web pub, which is in Grimsby by a matter of degrees (a distant dog actually howled once I stepped across the invisible border). Today we were unceremoniously thrown into the centre of Grimsby like an Ivano Bonetti's chicken wing, and 'Spoons was up first ....
And what a whopper the Yarborough Hotel, Grimsby (2598 / 4493) was, and probably still is (at the time of writing). We were meeting Barton's finest, Christine Andrew, having already seen her son Ben in Donny station heading off in a Hullish direction earlier on. And she did well to find us so quickly. She points me in the direction of a bar selling a few different ales (but why would you want anything other than Abbot, you might well ask) so I purchase a pint and a half of the Brightside, great drop, no wonder this slightly potty pub is the POTY. There is a problem with hot food unavailability, which apparently means the place is quieter than usual, which begs the questions just how busy is it normally cos it wasn't struggling?! The carpet is a disappointing 6/10, could've been an 8.5 with more vivid colouring as it had Hull City 1993/94 tiger print shirt potential. Too washed out. I was getting serious Steve Moran. The fake bookcase wallpaper wasn't fake though, it actually transpires these are real books. As Christine performs the all important Stabilo'ing, two old men further down the bench compare cancers. It was that kind of place.
Onto pub two, and the great thing about Grimsby's boozers, especially on a day where train strikes meant the latest train home was mid-afternoon (watch this space), is that they all open early, almost like Grimsby folk have nowt better to do than get themselves down t'pub.
Oh my gosh, look what we have here, an actual barge!
Barge, Grimsby (2599 / 4494) is definitely my first pub barge that hasn't felt glitzy, glam and tacky. Trust Grimsby to deliver! Being in here early doors no doubt helped, and with the slight 'list to starboard' you feel drunk before you've even had a sup of your world class Navigation New Dawn. Top lacings, served in a Bombardier glass for the haters. Daddy BRAPA suspects that when we leave, we might find ourselves in Rotterdam .... or anywhere, but definitely not Liverpool or Rome. I suspect this could be a lot livelier on evenings, but I'll happily never have to test out that theory!
Back up the steps then, and it still looks like we're in Grimsby. Mixed feelings. But good for BRAPA I suppose, although I had no idea that our next tick was a good 25 min walk out on some industrial estate in the middle of no man's land.
Week 3 of my broken toe, today was its biggest test so far. I'd seen vast improvements since week 1 in Wollaston, but the fact it kept trying to separate itself from the rest of my foot, creating a chilly gap, was a bit worrying.
The pub, when it came into view has a look of 'shut down since the 1980's' First instinct was to turn back and walk away, disappointed .....
But that would've been a mistake. Rutland Arms, Grimsby (2600 / 4495) was an astonishing GBG tick. Look at that beautiful pub garden to the right. And not one but two mobility scooters. That should give you an indication of the type of folk contained within. And Old Mill Brewery? How are they still going after all these years? Fair play to 'em. Like the craft revolution never happened for them. I respect that. Yes, it is a boisterous place, a real 'dockers with the pox flock to a knocking shop' style o' boozer. The ale described as 'pale' turns out to be a full blown bitter. Of course it is. A man waves at me from across the room and looks surprised when I wave back. Does he think he knows me? If I wasn't with company, I'd absolutely NOT be left alone here! Men are playing cards aggressively and as I run the gauntlet to the Gents, they are having a shouting match with the ladies on the next door table. "You shurrup!" "No you shurrup!" "I wor 'ere first!" "No I wor!" Lively unexpected boozers, ain't they the best type of tick?
It was time to depart Grimsby for Cleethorpes, where the day would rapidly unravel with a series of unfortunate strokes of luck. Well, this is BRAPA after all!
Join me next time for that (maybe Saturday as train strikes have cancelled my Sittingbourne based adventure), and thanks for reading.
Si
The Rutland Arms should be the pub you refer to when folk who don't visit pubs say the GBG is all micros and middle-class beer houses. I though it was perfect, pox apart.