BRAPA in .... KNOWLEDGE IS PORRIDGE IN DORRIDGE (WEST MIDS PT 5/7)

Monday 6th April 2026

Pub ticking doesn't come much more head-scratching than on a Bank Holiday Monday.

Will the pubs employ Sunday or Monday hours? Are any trains and buses actually running, and if so, which timetables will they use? And is there going to be any social media transparency so that I know what is going on?

The answer to all three questions in invariably 'no one knows'.

Thankfully, direct trains run from my Bicester starting point to Birmingham Moor Street, and being the thriving metropolis that Brum is, suddenly today was a lot easier than it would've been in say Grampian (just to throw a random example out there!)

And before I even reach Moor Street, there's Dorridge. Which opens early, even on a Monday.

Opposite the station I find the Forest Hotel, Dorridge (3368 / 6208), a new type of GBG tick in the locality as it isn't a tennis, squash, racquets, cricket, golf or tiddlywinks club - seasoned tickers will know what I'm on about. The leafy majesty promises much, but the carpets don't match the curtains (figuratively speaking) and we're confronted with well meaning but rather bland innards. A boisterous echo of happy Bank Holidees resonates, the sun having encouraged them out, but not 'out out'. Behind me, a group of 'Ladies What Breakfast' discuss an incident involving a misbehaving horse out at their country pile. The Wye Valley HPA is a yard off the pace, or should we say a furlong further back, and with my fetlocks blowing in the wind, I'm quite happy not to loiter and hop aboard a Moor St. service post-haste.

Once in Brum, I whizz up towards the buses near Colmore (spit!) Row with Halesowen intentions. The worst kind of intentions.

The bus I catch isn't the one I was aiming for, but a delayed one which I'd been told wasn't moving anytime soon but did. Even the driver seemed surprise when the engine starts. Classic BH Monday public transport services.

Such a shame that the old leather bastards lining the perimeter of Waggon & Horses, Halesowen (3369 / 6209) were so utterly desolate as if someone had pissed on their chocolate eggs, because (a) Halesowen is normally friendlier than this (b) Black Country Ales clientele are normally friendlier than this and (c) I wouldn't hesitate to put this in the upper echelons of BCA boozers in terms of layout and style. Recently opened after a refurb, which obviously hasn't done it any harm. I run an awkward gauntlet in search of ale, where a hot barmaid (look, it was a warm day) serves me a god-tier Titanic Cappuccino which I enjoy immensely from an empty side room where non-local scum like me belongs. I'd been careful to specify 'Titanic Cappuccino' and prod the pump clip, because once in L**ds, 10:30pm, work night out, I asked for this same pint in the Stick or Twist and the barmaid started making me an actual Cappuccino! Thankfully Louise Howarth was standing close by and realised what was going on far quicker than me, which is classic L.Howarth. Two guys come into 'my' room to play darts, and I may as well be fucking invisible. 'Focus on the 9/10 carpet Simon and keep smiling'.

Had I been presented with my Black Country Ales 'passport' sooner, and not in two pubs time, I might've lingered in Halesowen because it has TWO more BCA's to tick, both also beginning with the letter 'W' in a quirk which I'm probably the first person in the world to notice.

Next up was a return to Brierley Hill, where the Vine (Bull 'n Bladder) had rocketed into my favourite pubs of all time approximately a year ago. How would we get on today?

Well I'm so utterly confused because the Bell on the Delph, Brierley Hill (3370 / 6210) feels BCA in almost every way, right down to carpet and beer plasma. And yet not one of their own ales on (oh dear, how sad, never mind) or anything that says 'Black Country Ales' anywhere! I'm told that the same bloke who does the BCA pub designs did this one too. He obviously has his style! A heartwarming chat with our tattooed legend behind the bar is the perfect tonic after Halesowen's misery, and has me contemplating a rarely asked question 'Can the Black Country accent be sexy?' Never considered it previously when meeting the likes of Liquid Len, but now I wonder. Wyrd Sisters by Castle Rock drinks especially well for a 3.3% mild, the kinda percentage you love to see on day five of a BRAPA epic. And with obscure Billy Joel playing ('The Ballad of Billy the Kid', then later on 'Only Human (Second Wind)', I felt content here. Just don't compare it to the Vine, you'll only be unreasonably disappointed.

Now for a tick I'd been putting off for far too long. Partly because it is a micropub, but also because it is in a silly location.

But 12 o'clock opening even on a Monday, plus plentiful buses from Brierley Hill providing you don't mind a bit of an uphill grassy walk, I had little excuse to get it done.

As I cross the leafy bit, I get meowed at by a cute but grumpy cat. We'll call him Old Smudgie.

"MEOW, bring back smoking in pubs, MEOW"

Then I had to cross a hideous road to reach the pub, cos they've not thought about pedestrians at all. So had to walk halfway down another one, just to give me a run at crossing before a car whizzed down from the junction and mowed me down. Awful town planning.

Pens Ale Microbar, Pensnett (3371 / 6211) is one of those intense experiences where locals and staff 'embrace BRAPA' so that I barely leave the bar area, and certainly never sit down! As micros go, it was fine. Basic. Some level of comfort. Remnants of a kids Easter bash earlier, the guv'nor is hoovering up the crumbs and streamers. The Green Duck ale ain't great. The main character is this old bloke at the bar. 'Don't mind us, we're just slagging someone off!' he says when I arrive. But as the football kids say in 2026, 'his head is on Mars, Saturn and Jupiter' once I've explained the mechanics of BRAPA, guy is utterly astonished. Tells me when he was younger, Pensnett had 32 pubs! At one point, I whisper to his wife that I'm sorry for monopolising him, but she replies that after 24(?) years of marriage, she's glad of a break! The main guy is called over from his hoovering to meet me, and what a lovely chap he is. A photo is even taken. But the barmaid who served me, I can sense that she feels like me, this BRAPA love-in has gone on long enough! At the eleventh hour, the highlight of the piece is a guy called Andreas named after that place I need to tick on the Isle of Man. Gives me the 'Black Country Ales passport' which I've been banging on about. Tells me it's people like me doing stuff like this that make the world a better place. How nice is that? He didn't need to say that. However, I was glad to get moving again, feel like I'd outstayed my welcome. There's a sister pub too called Tivi Ale, which will no doubt get in the 2027 GBG seeing as I haven't done it and West Mids loves a good churn.

Where to from here? Obviously in that highly sociable environment, I hadn't had chance to tap away at my phone, looking for bus routes.

And when I do, I realise the last bus of the day already left an hour ago, even though it is only 4pm.

Maybe that's a bank holiday quirk, but I knew this Pensnett area isn't the most accessible part of the Black Country. Stourbridge Uber it is, which has a new tick like it does EVERY BLOODY YEAR! The Louth Lincs / Richmond North Yorkshire of the West Mids.

Weavers, Stourbridge (3372 / 6212), just how many more mini pub chains can the West Mids et al churn out? Their newbie at Worcester had been a tad rushed, their Kiddie vehicle was so long ago, I can't remember much about it, and the one at Malvern I'd rate as 'very pleasant'. But this is the best of the bunch so far. Carpet of the week, and a good gaggle of gargling locals of all ages and sexes doing Bank Holiday things, providing a 'Granny's Parlour' (not Ray) feel. Excellent beer prompts me to declare 'I once was lost but now I am Fownd'. The barman tried giving me a taster first and I was like 'No, please desist!' But it is my bouncing around to 'National Express' by the Divine Comedy that gets most attention. "You work for National Express then I take it?" ask two guys opposite, which seemed a weird conclusion to draw. Pub experience of the day.

Weavers had given me a new lease of life, and suddenly I was motivated enough to consider hopping on board a bus for a decisive sixth tick, even if it did mean crossing the border into Staffs for only the second time this season.

Back on the Black Country Ale trail in the evening sun at Old Bush, Wombourne (3373 / 6213), first opportunity to get a stamp on my BCA passport (pub no. 25) but in all the 'excitement', I forgot to ask. But Mummy BRAPA gave me a BRAPA stamp a few Christmases ago so I used that instead. Not gonna get my free tee-shirt at this rate though. Facer's Chocolate Orange at 5% (it ain't Terry's!) is almost brilliant, but like most Facer's beers it fades away. The square dark haired wife of a square dark haired husband kicks off when he throws a dart that nearly hits her in the ear. Their square dark haired daughter supping a Fruit Shoot cries "please don't fight parents!", so they move away from the dartboard and I'm relieved because they were nearly sat on my knee despite having an extensively proportioned semi-empty pub to aim at. The benching is bountiful, the carpet plentiful. And I reflect as Bank Holiday Monday ticking goes, it doesn't get much better, which is testament to this most excellent part of the UK for pubbing.

A huge BRAPA landmark was now only two pubs away ..... 75% of the Good Beer Guide!

Join me next time for news of that, and six more ticks in the West Mids / Warwickshire area.

Thanks for reading / keep it pub, Si