With 22 pubs still to tick, Essex was teetering on the brink of BRAPA unrespectability so today's aim was to bring it dahn below 20, with another trip to come in mid-July which'll make it look half decent.
This is a far cry from my 2021 'full greening' of the county (Bures Hamlet, Woodforde Wherry, never forget) , and although Essex isn't the 'churniest' of counties, leave anywhere alone for five years and you WILL get banged, so to speak.
I decided to take advantage of my late train home and go as far as I can, and it doesn't get any further than Harwich.
Two ticks were needed to supplement 2021's excellent Old Bell Inn (funny locals, amazing Nelson stout, never forget).
Salty seadogs galore at this tight-knit backstreet gem. Not sure if there's an easier way in, or they just lock the main door when they see a northerner approaching, but I have to walk right around the back of the bar to find the front, past a rack of newspapers, and the locals look startled when I say 'ey up'. Welcome to Alma Inn, Harwich (3454 / 6244) and I'm not sure that a beer labelled an inconsequential floral biscuit pale from Nottingham should taste like a bottle of Duchesse de Boing Boing, so to enhance my enjoyment, I convinced myself it was deliberate. My recent run of BJ in every pub continues (Billy Joel I mean, the pub wasn't THAT friendly despite the lack of teeth), punctuated by the odd Essex scream. This pub was exceedingly strict / shut during those Coviddy times, so it was nice to finally get it done. If you've done a murder, a good place to hide out while it all blows over.
Staying in Harwich, I came to a pub I'd walked past in 2021 and thought 'cor what a shame it's totally shut, looks a delight' though it had a grubby orange pub sign back then with pissed off Stingray.
And now, here I was .....
I'm starting to think Harwich is bloody good at pubs. Unsympathetic to Steve Irwin it might be, but Stingray, Harwich (3455 / 6245) was a third consecutive jewel in the crown. Love me Tendring! You can have that blog title for a small fee. You can smell Suffolk from here. The 50/50 smell of ghost trains and library books draws you in, there's yer archetypal drunk Jock at the bar (like a mobility scooter, all good pubs must have one), and the aptly named Scruffy Mild is a dream after Alma's Notts nonsense. The landlady better be called Barb. The never-ending Brittany Spears playlist fits the pub surprisingly well. In fact, I'd entered the pub to 'Oops I Did it Again' which felt like BRAPA darts walk-on music if EVER I heard it. The insane Artex is off the scale, I'm off to Dovercourt before Asbestosis sets in. Pub of the day.
Yes, a plan had formed in my mind whilst supping my Scruffy. With the bus some way off, I decide to hot-foot it down to Dovercourt 'Spoons, and catch the bus from there.
Bottle Kiln they called it, pretty decent place, hotel rooms by the looks of it and my desultory half of Burton was good too. Highlight was the guy next to me asking for ice, and then asking the barman to pour it away whilst he was rubs his knees and 'phwoars'. A specific kink. The barman says "just when you think you've heard everything!" Carpet a 7.5/10 oddity.
One of my followers (I can't remember who but thanks if you are reading) says that if I'm planning on visiting the Waggon at Wix (I am), take care with the hours because they aren't as advertised!
So I do a 'deep dive' (ugh) and realise they are opening 3pm, not the 2pm I'd been expecting. I'm due into Wix (which shares a name with my blogging platform so doesn't inspire confidence anyway) at about 2:50pm so I'm glad he said, or I'd have probably cried 'SHUT PUB ALERT', got temporarily spooked and had heart palpitations.
But if today seemed to be going too well, that's probably because it was.
As I jump off the bus at the edge of Wix for a quick pee in a patch of nettles, I realise my wallet is no longer in my pocket. NOOOOOOOOO!
I scramble around in the undergrowth but I know the truth is I've dropped it getting off the bus. I had it getting on because I'd used my physical bank card to pay for the fare. I KNEW these new shorts had too shallow pockets.
I try to ring First Bus Essex from the side of the road, kids now streaming out of the local school so am dodging them and Mums, but it is an entirely automated service. NINE options. About number SIX relates to lost property and all I can do is fill an online form in. SO frustrating. If I could get through to a human, they could contact the driver and it could be retrieved in the here and now, but no.
Thank the lord it wasn't my phone I'd dropped, and that I have a bank card and train tickets loaded on my phone and the ability to 'freeze' my bank cards.
Oh well, at least we're gone 3pm and the pub is open, just ......
A real shame that I couldn't enjoy Waggon, Wix (3456 / 6246) for it was an old school throwback to match the Harwich duo. I feel sorry for the gentle elderly landlord (I say elderly, he might've been 45, he had one of those faces) as he has to bear the brunt of my wallet-loss rant as I needed to vent! He's not very helpful, I remember thinking at the time, but what did I expect him to do?? He does however tell me that the beer I'm drinking, Brinsop, is named after the dragon that got in the fight with that St George guy. It is one of today's nicest pints but tastes like bitter ashes in the circs. "Right, hear ye, I've got a plan ...." I announce to this poor sleepy empty village pub which couldn't give a shit. "...I'm getting the next hourly bus to Colchester, which is the depot, so maybe its been handed in here, or I can at least ask"."Good luck!" says the guv'nor. "Bye, and thanks for listening!" I reply.
Being a pub not in sync with modern technology, I can only be pleased that this wasn't 'cash only' or I'd not have even been able to get my tick in. Then a sinking realisation I had £60 cash in my wallet too. I'd not normally carry much more than a tenner these days but it was held over from my 'Aberdeenshire taxi fare emergency fund' which I rarely used.
Back at the Colchester terminus, I'm frustrated to find no office or hub. Just a Crystal Maze finale shaped dome holding one old lady waiting for a bus. The driver, a young twink with rainbow lanyard and watermelon vape is next to useless and doesn't want to know.
Frustrated, I trudge off to the pub. I've decided to skip my Wivenhoe tick, it felt too difficult now.
Colchester is a surprisingly excellent pub town, I hope you agree, but I wouldn't be adding Three Wise Monkeys (3457 / 6247) to my list of must do's on a crawl. In fact, that 'Other Monkey' Taproom to the right looks more GBG and exciting to me, but the staff are too busy chatting amongst themselves to break off for even one second to allow me to ask about it. I order their 'Are you Local?' ale, 'tis proper slop. Card denied! Don't panic Si, of course I'll need to temporarily unfreeze it again. Look at me freezing and unfreezing like a champ, I feel like Bobby fucking Drake. At this point I realise just how much my legs are chafing with Wix stinging nettles. I wish this pub sold dock leaves. In the average surroundings, I reach the acceptance stage of my wallet grief. Just glad I don't have to hand myself in at the local cop shop to get back to York. Amusing clientele in. The blonde weirdo in the far corner loudly compliments her boyfriend's penis, causing scouse John Peel to look awkward, whilst yoga practicing Kelle Bryan on the adjoining wall opens one eye in surprise. Yep, it was nice to get back to some nice 'normal' pub observation.
Time to leg it across town to get a train to Chelmsford. London felt a long way off, and despite booking a deliberately late train out of King's Cross, I didn't have all the time in the world.
My phone flashes up with an email from First Bus. Oooh, have they found it? Have they buggery! Automated rubbish. Including the line "nothing will happen for the first 24 hours".
Anyone's who knows about missing persons cases knows it is the first 24 hours which are crucial. Why should wallets be any different?
Apart from the unreasonably lengthy walk off centre when I'm trying to make up some time, I didn't mind United Brethren, Chelmsford (3458 / 6248). Wooden floored London-esque ale house style. It lacks identity but at least there's a smattering of old blokes in the sun supping and making Essex noises. Unfortunately, the passage of time, my mental state at the time + inability to 'check in' on either X or BlueSky means I have very little idea of what happened. I drank a Chelmsford Hoptopia. It started off a citrus zinger but later on became a 'tough arse biblical vibe pusher' - thank goodness for Untappd check ins eh? Visit yourself and let me know where it ranks amongst Chelmsford's throbbing, but less exciting than Colchester (IMO), pub scene.
Don't turn around Ivor, the shorts are short
Back into London without a hitch, time to unfreeze my card for one final time, special circs n all that?
My wallet never did materialise. FirstBus closed the case after two weeks. I gave them lots of feedback on the way they handle lost property cases, and obviously heard nothing about that either.
I think having £60 cash in it was the issue. Some Essex boy has yoinked that, and chucked my wallet away into a hedge, stream or similar.
It has changed how I carry stuff on days out. I now have all three bank cards on my phone, and the physical ones in a sealed pocket which I'd only use in emergencies. And my cash separate from that. You gotta live & learn!
See you on Sunday, a pre-emptive only day, but we were going to Wemberleeeee!
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