BRAPA in .... KNOTTY ENDS, TAXI FOR BRADFORD, HALLOWE'EN IN ESSEX (epic catch up 2/14)
- Si Everitt
- Dec 29, 2022
- 8 min read
My last tick of the 2022 Good Beer Guide was this, a WMC north of Poulton-le-F. Daddy BRAPA and I had travelled over in Mummy BRAPA's new yellow car which had low suspension, crazy electrics and stiff brakes, to make the M62 jaunt even more exciting than usual. We were here to watch Hull City at Blackpool later on.
Knott End on Sea Working Men's Club, Knott End on Sea (2464 / 4027)
I'd expected slightly more, I'm sure folk in the past had told me this was one of the most amazing GBG clubs on earth. It was friendly, but I sensed a watchfulness as Dad compliments the beautiful stained glass door, separating our area from snooker tables, old dudes and loos that you can't flush incontinence pads down. For a north western club, it felt strangely disjointed. Greene King Yardbird was the only ale on, it offered some fantastic lacings, but perhaps a warning sign that Dad's heroic drive may be slightly in vain - and it didn't make the 2023 GBG and we'd have been better off going to J D Drinkwater's in Blackpool itself. Grrr, pub ticking eh?
Dry your eyes though, it was a fine night in Blackpool. Great little session in the wonderful and successful pre-emptive Cask & Tap before the match, and a rare away win. Hurrah! Mum's car went a bit weird on the way home, but we made it back to York.
Even more excitement the following lunchtime, as I became the first of the pub tickers to receive their new 2023 Good Beer Guide.
Just in time for Essex, where I was meeting my old mate Simon Dewhurst for a chauffeury day. The new Guide might've meant a last minute change of plans, but it made the route easier. Two new ticks in his home town of Sawbridgeworth meant that he was, as the kids say, shooketh.
Okay, so George IV wasn't open at 11am as I hoped, so I got my second coffee of the morning served by a man who tells me Sawbridgeworth is more similar to York than people realise! I sat on a bench in the sun, Simon arrived 11:30, and it was off to a place called 'Old Harlow'. Peculiar, very seventies, a bit down & out? This pub still looked a bit 'dead' bang on 12 noon .....
Crown, Old Harlow (embargo period so no numbers for now)
'Dead' was the word, sort of. Not in a 'we're not opening on time' way, but what we thought were closed curtains were actually cobweb decor darkening the pub! Hard to imagine the place outside of Hallowe'en it had that much tat up, and I always suspect a pub with a preponderance of Hallowe'en decor is a pub not entirely confident in its own abilities - and I'm no Hallows Curmudgeon by any means, I carve a pumpkin, have a red wine, a buffet, watch Ghostwatch, you know, get in the 'spirit'. The Wadworth 6X was passable, a beer I'm enjoying more as I get older, but it wasn't a great example. We're both shocked (and heartened) on the way out to see the front bar heaving with locals.
Time to get our main 'outlier' pub done before it got any later. This was down in the not very public transport friendly village of Great Dunmow, one of those I'd vaguely heard of from my days as a Saffron Walden twild, but never been, to my knowledge.
Boar's Head, Great Dunmow
The two earlier coffees plus a few car air conditioning issues meant I felt proper queasy when we arrive, so I did a good job of putting a brave face on the above photo! A puking action shot may've garnered more traction on Twitter, maybe next time. The Adnams Ghost Ship was quality (are you watching Deveraux, Temple?), and sorted me out. A peculiar place with a yokel attitude, we certainly felt like outsiders, rare for Essex I'd say. The pub itself was a mixed bag .... propped up by old creaky beams, a few decent partitions, it had character but not the atmosphere. Outdoor loos, which usually mean good pub. A bloke told me he couldn't hang on, I hadn't asked.
The tour of teams who played Saffron Walden Colts Under 11's back in the 1989/90 season (beat them 5-0 home and away from memory) continued with a trip to pretty Thaxted. Simon dropped me off as he struggled to park whilst I got the drinks in, a plane appeared above the pub - fellow pub ticker about to parachute down?
Maypole, Thaxted
If the Hallowe'en domination (and bear in mind it is Oct 22nd, not even 29th) was overwhelming in Old Harlow, it was absolute in this cream and grey bland but well run dining pub. Yet it took an age to find a staff member to serve me, by which me I'd flip flopped between a Dracula version of Tim Taylor Landlord and Woodforde Wherry several times. Simon D days always contain a Wherry, it had to be done. Decent. The only moment of note were two bald men at the far end of the bar getting scared by a mechanical hand which came to life and tapped them on the shoulder. These decorations were getting 'out of hand'. Simon arrives, buys me a much needed packet of Roast Chicken Walkers, the last bag in the place, and that was that.
One place I know I've been to before is Newport, where I ticked off the bonkers but often long term closed White Horse Inn in 2021. So many Newport's, can I catch 'em all?
Coach & Horses, Newport
A community feel and an easy going atmosphere were something we'd not witnessed so far, so despite more bland concessions to dining, this was a slight upturn in fortunes. "Corrr, that's Amelia Rose coming down the road" "Oh excellent, I love Amelia Rose" "What a legend A.R. is!" "Ameelz sure brings the party!" chime the locals peering out, and Simon & I are wondering what diva / siren / pub saviour is going to arrive, when a random toddler walks in saying "goo goo goo". Well, after that anti-climax, we retire to this huge empty restaurant room and Simon is delighted the Suffolk Pride is a 'unique' beer to him as he'd been strategically holding off from having his pint elsewhere, what with driving n all. Then a lady moves us to the cosier back bar in the friendliest way possible. Amelia Rose had it reserved for a function later on. Banter lass.
Last pub today, back in Simon's hometown might have let me down earlier by failing to open at 11, but it was open now, even if the below photo was taken while it was shut!
George IV, Sawbridgeworth
Ohhh yes, THIS was the pub that today had been crying out for. A pubby pub, full of ancient crows. A fluffy old lady who needs a good cod liver oil tablet creaks out of a cabinet and pulls me a perfect McMullen's IPA. Being a northerner, McMullen's pubs are still a novelty for me. Around the back, it is standing room only. Smells of beer and sweat. The TV says Hull City have scored 4 at Rotherham, there is a Count Duckula toy leaning on a bench (Oscar eyes him with suspicion), and a huge selection of buffet snacks, hopefully free as I help myself to a sausage. "It is someone's 1st birthday party" a man explains. The toddlers and babies love booking pubs out in this part of the world! Simon leaves me to it, he has people to see, places to be, so I end up sitting with the locals and chatting Hull City and BRAPA. ".... and you're off back to Yoik tonight, you're bladdy mad?!" says one man, whilst the landlady tells me if I'd knocked on the doors/windows at 11am, she'd have opened early!
Back in London, and the Parcel Yard really didn't deserve my custom after the disgraceful experience a week ago, but the good thing about having a new GBG, suddenly more plentiful options in handy areas, and despite being tucked away in the back streets, it didn't get much handier than this.
McGlynn's, St Pancras
Not sure why people insist on cluttering pavements on a chilly night when there is plenty of room within, another trope of Central London ticking along with gravity defying toilet drops, cucumber water dispensers, shit ale and every upstairs room reserved for a party. But this was a lovely pub, a fab red plentiful carpet, some decidedly hobbity locals, a couple of Spanish men with heads like potatoes unsure if they were allowed to sit down, and a surprisingly good pint of Mayflower Session, half the strength of ESB (kind of) so I stayed for two! How's it not been in the GBG in BRAPA history until now?
Fast forward to the following Wednesday, my GBG cross ticking completed in record time (I'd lost 315 pubs, ooof, but was still embargoed until tomorrow so I had to suffer in silence for now!)
If there is one county I ALWAYS complete, it is West Yorkshire. And I wanted to get cracking with a two day bonanza as soon as work had finished.
Furthest point west first, and that was our old mate Mytholmroyd where I found this debutant looking every inch the West Yorkshire micro that'll hopefully still be in the GBG in 2039, but I have doubts over the longevity of such entrants.
Barbary's, Mytholmroyd
A few surprised blinks greet me, as if to say "by all means, stay for a drink, but we don't recognise you. Are you lost? Did you mean to come in? You don't have a dog? What IS wrong with you!" But Titanic Plum Porter makes everything okay and I did warm to the place, and appreciate the local pubbub and bonhomie, even if not directed at me. So many blokes looking like out of work football managers. Selection of obscure vinyls by the single unisex loo - the scene was so very micro. A dog was sniffing at my bag when I return, they can sense these things, Scotch eggs I mean. Time to get my train, a heron flew straight over my head when I left ..... which was nice.
Time was already getting away from me by the time I reached Bradford, something of a hub for me this year because not only was there a city centre debutant, but two further micro first timers out in the 'burbs. Had it been daytime, I'd have been all about the buses and long walks, but with time of the essence, time for taxi cheats!
Watchmaker, Thornton
"Ey up, ey up, ey up, ooooh let mi close that door" I announce on arrival, realising that one pint of Plum Porter has seen my confidence / lack of inhibition grow. A perky group of oldies smile sweetly, I go for the Table Porter (very good, love a Wishbone) and the barmaid says she hopes she was leaning far enough back to be out of shot. Some livewire barfly tries to stir things with that weird 'flirting by insulting her physical appearance' technique. I go through a velvet curtain into a comfy but slightly chilly back area. Chillier than I realise, a couple are having a domestic in hushed tones. Awkward, I want to disappear, but luckily they do, outside to smoke and argue some more. But my abiding memory of this pub is the loos. Twice the size of the pub. Four cubicles, four sinks, incredible scenes.
Say what you like about Bradford but if you want an emergency Uber, you can't do better, and Khuram is quickly upon me so I'm glad that Table Porter was neckable.
He drops me north of Bradford for the final pub of this second epic blog catch up.
Greedy Pig, Eccleshill
And what a good job I'd shown some sense of urgency re taxis. Only 20:34 when I took the above photo but when the door doesn't open, the lady in the window mouths 'we're closed, 8 on Wednesdays'. "Nooooo" I wail, "I got a taxi here specially and I'm trying to visit every pub in the Good Beer Guide" I protest for all the good I think it'll do, so I'm surprised when she relents and unlocks the door. Soon, a quick half becomes a pint once she knows I'm into stouts and want a 5% Clout! Really nicely done place with carpet for comfort, and we chat amiably whilst Mr Pig scurries about in the background oinking and doing pub duties. When I complain about Uber prices after 9pm, she even rings a local company, which saves me £15! Love Mrs Pig, what a fabulous experience.
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