Tuesday 2nd September 2025
A chance comment from part 2 hero Maltmeister on seeing my photo of salubrious Cabot Circus last time out made me realise just how close McDonald's was to my Air B 'n B. A two minute walk. New breakfast routine? Would certainly give me the stodge I need to sustain me on these six pub days.
Especially when another Mart, this time ending 'yn' has agreed to drive me around awkward rural Gloucestershire. Extra kind of him considering he starts work at 1am the following day. And he's a train driver. And it is his first day back after his summer hols. Yes, you feel a certain responsibility to keep up the drinking pace best you can ..... though as anyone who's chauffeured me around will know, most recently Komakino Dave last Saturday, my 25 mins per pub quickly goes out of the window a couple of pints in!
Anyway, I reckoned a sausage, cheese and egg muffin with a dreadfully greasy hash brown could help with that. And with my TV now fixed, I could catch up on Neighbours at the same time. Perfect.
Not sure my neck problems were on the mend as much as I'd hoped in part 4. I can move to the right a bit easier, but left is a killer. And my left foot really is getting sore. But I don't like to talk about these injuries.
I hobble down to Temple Meads, dodge the usual array of gacked up smackheads wanting my money, and meet today's hero, Martyn the FamilyRug, at Bristol Parkway approx 1pm which made sense cos it saves him coming into the evil city.
First up was a late addition to the schedule on Martyn's suggestion, I'd been worried it was too far south, but no, and a bugger to get to so I'm eternally grateful ......
Marshfield was a surprise to both of us. I'd expected some tiny village surrounded by marshy fields, but the reality is a bustling town chock-a-block with pubs which will certainly all appear in the GBG to stymie me at some point in the future. Catherine Wheel (3328 / 5814) was unlike any other pub this holiday in that it more resembled one of those Scottish hotel bars you see so often in the GBG up there. Reassuringly Scottish, like Martel Maxwell, Tandleman, porridge, offal and heroin. Blazing fire, a 7/10 carpet, old people eating lunch but the place is cosy and tatty (I mean that in a good way). You feel at home. FamilyRug rates his lemonade 8/10, incidentally the rating Mummy BRAPA always gives pub lemonades. My Adam Henson Rare Breed looked like absolute sludge, I'm ready to ask her to change it, but it tastes good, and five minutes later, I can see clearly now the sludge has gone. A promising start for a promising day.
Time to head north of Bristol and get even further out into the wilds. No use asking me if there's any traffic coming, it takes me longer to turn my head to the left than it does for that last pint to clear.
Beaufort Arms, Hawkesbury Upton (3329 / 5815) was armed with all the tools it needed to be a serious contender for pub of the day, and probably top five for the week. But frustratingly it decided against it. The barmaid didn't smile once, and didn't want to be there. The locals were 'pitchforky / don't go onto the moors at night / American werewolf' nr Bristol. The pub stank of grease. My Bristol Beer Factory was warm, slightly furry and easily today's most unpleasant pint. On the plus side, it had a skittle alley of some class, tonnes of brewerianarama, and on the face of it at least, a proper old pub. Probably retaining a GBG placing year on year on reputation rather than anything in the present .... look, I could be wrong, one off visit. But a pub I'd love to see really fulfil its potential. At least I had Martyn to chat with to brighten my mood. Could've been so much more.
A short toddle up the road, though you wouldn't want to walk it because you might get run over, but I believe there is an adjacent footpath, brings us to a landmark pub three ......
74% of the Good Beer Guide complete at ze Fleece Inn, Hillesley (3330 / 5816), a hollow victory as I'd soon be dropping down to 67% due to #CruelChurn, but a victory nonetheless. Celebrated in the moment. Very much the polar opposite from our last pub. Less cosy and lived in, not a very interesting interior. But an excellent pint (Oakham Citra, rarely lets me down) and a personable young host who chats to us throughout, having drawn him in with the 74% BRAPA hook. He prefers golf to fishing, though he claims to be shite, so he admits to being there mainly for the pub lunch which follows. Very much the reasons I went to Spaldington with Daddy BRAPA regularly in the early 2000's. Remember the Portwall Tavern yesterday? Well that cheesy sick smell was back. 7.5/10 here on the pungent scale, 8.25/10 there. Look, when the carpet is thin nothingness, you have to rate something.
Time for a quick diversion east for our 4pm opener (12 Wed-Sun, closed Mon if you care) ......
Two extremely polite gents bob their surprised baldie heads over the bar to greet us at Royal Oak, Leighterton (3331 / 5817). I enjoy an Uley beer for the first time in my life by dint of it not tasting like compost, boot leather or saltwater. But let's be real here, this is a restaurant, not a pub. It didn't matter in which direction I point my camera, aside from the handpulls or the 8/10 rug (not a family rug), you just get anything resembling a decent shot. Felt closed in and suffocating, despite the pub being totally empty. I cannot see this being a drinkers destination even on a rowdy Saturday night in December, but tell me if I'm wrong. Though I doubt you've been, you just don't seem like the type who could be arsed.
Onwards and westwards to pub five, two to go, Martyn wondering how early he could get home and to sleep before his big day tomorrow. Me wondering if I could keep a modicum of drinking pace discipline.
He'd kept bangin' on about this next one as being a micropub, and I'm like 'stop talking nonsense mate, it's called the Plough, it's in a weird village, no way in hell it is gonna be a micro".
Oh look ....
But I was wrong, and so are you! Look, there's a comedy tractor and it is even written on the pub wall in 'dining pub' font. Well done Martyn. Plough, Charfield (3332 / 5818) impresses me greatly. Redemption for the dreadful Dog House in Coleford which he took me to in the summer. 'Dog House' must be the name for the poorest quality GBG pubs of the past five years. Plough's are always sturdy. A no nonsense landlady, a carpet of much substance (how often do you see a carpet in a Micro btw?), quality Rudgate beer from North Yorkshire (something I wouldn't have dreamt of ordering on days 1-3 of my holiday but now the time was right), and an all round mucky old school atmosphere - some of the naughtiest postcards this side of the M4 (everything gets ruder beyond Newport). Well done that pub!
Our grand finale, the most remote (or at least difficult to reach) was the pub I'd been most excited about ticking off, having read a couple of articles about it in the run up to this holiday. Young guy taking it on, skepticism from locals '... it'll never work' etc. etc., guy heroically working 15 hrs a day to prove himself and get it to 'pub of the year' levels, a heartwarming tale.
But the age old BRAPA problem of 'setting my expectations too high' was about to bite. Don't get me wrong, Salutation, Ham (3333 / 5819) is a revitalised classic worthy of all the recent awards thrown at it. I just feared I wasn't seeing it in peak form. The proof of the pub pudding is in the punters, flocking here from the moment we parked up, that reassuring musty sweaty 17th century stink hits you on arrival, but you ain't telling me these folk are all Hamsters (or whatever Ham residents are called). Or even berks from nearby Berkeley. No, I reckon some have travelled miles like us. Today's second skittle alley is worth a look, perhaps the beating of the one in Hawks Upton? This pub is the home of Tiley's beers, brilliant time and time again in my 2025 Glos/Bristol epic and once I'd shouted over the top of elderly bar blockers (wish people wouldn't be allowed to sit at the bar at busy times, as bad as queuing in my eyes) , the Special Bitter (just missing my favourite E number .... Extra!) was unsurprisingly 5* NBSS. The 'no cash' rule seemed totally at odds with the general ambience, as did the selling of pub t-shirts. Believing their hype? Or simply capitalising on newly deserved popularity to make a quick buck? Let's just say I'm waiting for the day when Mick the Hat prints Peyton Arms t-shirts, complete with cobwebs. A lady overhears our 'nearest train to here chat' and calls across the room, it is a sociable pub, but Martyn has offered to drop me back at Parkway, further staking his claim in the top three BRAPA chauffeurs of 2025, with Daddy B. and Paul G. With Komakino making a late push in fourth. Wanna compete? Then msg me with a Norfolk / West Wales agenda. I'll buy your lemonades.
And in even better news, ALL six pubs remain in the 2026 GBG. Take that #CruelChurn , you're not singing anymore!
Three days left, and the key goal now was to finish ticking everything listed under Bristol's 'inset' section.
More on that in part 6, which I'd love to bang out Friday but time might be tight, and a busy weekend means it might not be until Monday. I'm never catching up on these blogs am I?
Tsk. Oh well, keep it pub! Si
"IT'S TOO LEIGHTERTON TO TURN BACK NOW"
The judges ponder their decision and decide...
(one quarter of a slow golf clap)
"my 25 mins per pub quickly goes out of the window a couple of pints in!"
This is my shocked face.
"Anyway, I reckoned a sausage, cheese and egg muffin with a dreadfully greasy hash brown could help with that."
So, their hash browns are the same the world over.
"But I don't like to talk about these injuries."
Blimey. All you need is your infamous wonky knee to flare up and you'll have the trifecta!
"Oh, hang on ....."
(judges award a full slow golf clap)
"Marshfield was a surprise to both of us. I'd expected some tiny village…