Saturday 30th December, 10:42am
I'm not really 'feeling'' Leicestershire as a pub ticking county yet. Maybe I need to grab it by the balls a bit more, but all just seems a bit airy fairy, limited opening hours, too much rural nonsensicalness.
Still, I used to feel the same about Lincs and look at me now. Maybe I just need a Leics chauffeur, hint hint. Or a few overnighters? That's how I cracked the Charnwood part of the county. Food for thought.
Colin was having his bi-annual wash so Pedro the Plum deputised, with a debut for Christmas signing Russell the Brussel. That meant Plum Porter and Belgian Beers were high on the agenda.
Melton Mowbray was the destination, my second visit here after a visit in the pre-BRAPA vehicle "Si's A-Z Aleway Adventures" back in 2012/13.
Back then, I'd enjoyed the Anne of Cleves, Boat Inn and a random Everard's house I can't remember the name of. It did have one of those typically East Mids long glass roofed corridors to the gents.
2024 GBG, and it was all change with three new ticks to explore.
Kettleby Cross, Melton Mowbray (2577 / 4735)
This groundbreaking, eco warrior, planet saving 'Spoons seemed an apt place to toast the newly anointed King Sir Timbo and give thanks for getting BRAPA out of many an early morning pub jam. First time I've been in a new-build 'Spoons which felt remotely non-airport lounge, having something of the authenticity of a North London 80's classic. Russell the sarcastic Brussel takes the reins early on, fitting perfectly into the little table number circle, though I fear for his long term 'visibility' in the same way bruisers like Colin and Pedro can achieve. The carpet is a fabulous 9.5, the Oakham Citra 'Haze' an 8.5, and although the barmaid yawns a lot with heavy eyelids, she is watchful of a weird breakfast man playing up in the corner under the stairs. I got plenty of curious anguished glances towards my posing table, perhaps I've sat in a dead regulars place for the first time? Positive start.
I wouldn't be satisfied with just the Melton trio today however, and wanted 1-3 village ticks to get my Leics challenge back on the road.
But I couldn't get back on any road because I could not get a taxi no matter how hard I tried (poor phone reception didn't help), and when I tried to get a bus in, the damn thing didn't turn up!
Now 12 noon, I decided to wave the white flag and head to a second MM pub and reassess my options.
Charlie's Bar, Melton Mowbray (2578 / 4736)
"We had to stop doing cask because we just couldn't shift it" laments the lady in charge when I ask the obvious question which I can already see the answer to. She's a nice human so I don't suggest that if the place looked more like a bar and less like a vintage clothes shop it might get more random footfall, and happily take a coffee fizzy keg pint of Farmyard (which they weirdly had at Blackpool Punk Festival a couple of years back) to the side room. There's already a young couple on one side under a purple neon 'Stay Weird' sign so Pedro and Russell promptly jump onto the table for this one. An elderly couple on the other side are drinking bright green Vault City sour beer, and it is kinda lovely to see! I feel a bit exposed, trying to hide behind Jenga, and a halogen heater seems to be the only source of warmth, so it isn't the cosiest, but I didn't dislike it.
In even better news, I'd managed to get an Uber (who aren't even supposed to operate in Melton but had strayed from Leicester, or even Wolverhampton) after two more failed attempts on local numbers. It was practically Launceston out here.
I had my 'eye' on the intriguing Lakes Clubhouse at Eye Kettleby, a weird assortment of I think 12 lakes just south of Melton (could've walked on a nice day with more time) which RetiredMartin did recently.
Both myself and the taxi driver are totally stumped re the exact location, as he drives down this country lane with nowhere to turn left to where the clubhouse is. In the end, I tell him just to let me out and I'll work it out on foot!
That leads to a classic BRAPA farce where I trudge through wet woodland, past tree branches, electric fence and Lake 2 (or was it 3?) on my left, come to a damp mossy and very locked gate, have to hurdle it, end up with a brownie green crotch, but soon the clubhouse comes into view on my left. Huzzah!
Eye Kettleby Lakes Clubhouse, Eye Kettleby (2579 / 4737)
"Cor, how on earth does anyone find this place, is it easy to get out of?" I say to this elderly gent who holds the door open for me. He looks taken aback, startled, and mutters it is easy, before scuttling off. True, plenty of cars are in the car park, I think we'd approached it from totally the wrong angle. No tip for Mr Uber! As I order my not too bad pint of Langton North Star, I notice an army of young white-shirted female staff called Tilly, Lily, Millie and Billie blinking back at me, so I say ""cor, how on earth does anyone find this place, is it easy to get out of?" and they're all like "piece of piss pal" before one of them dashes to the kitchen and brings me back the card of a local taxi firm who are ALWAYS coming out here. Bonza! The place resembles an unimaginative gigantic sauna, but has more than a degree of comfort and warmth, so if I have to stay for 75 mins (yes, that's how long the taxi will be), I'd rather spend it here than Charlie's Bar. After a rare moment of excitement as a meet n greeter accidentally pops a NYE balloon, I go Doom Bar for my second pint to see if RetiredMartin was right, and he was. Cold wishy washy stuff, and this is coming from two tickers who've had positive Doom experiences this year!
The problem with having 75 mins to kill in a boring place is that it gets you thinking, so when I hop in the taxi and realise Paula is chatty and personable, I ask if, instead of going back to Melton Mogs like I'd asked on the phone, if we can go to a place called Frisby-on-the-Wreake where I have a tick which looks not too far.
She tuts. A scornful tut. And tells me I'm naughty and cheeky for moving the goalposts like this and it is EXACTLY the kind of move a local would pull. They don't normally cover Frisby.
So I do sad eyes, tell her I'm just an innocent man from York with no understanding of the complexities of local taxi topographies. I only want to pub tick, and whilst I'd be most grateful to her, I'd thoroughly understand if I'm asking too much (sob).
She softens and says she can just about squeeze Frisby in and we chat BRAPA the rest of the way, she even says to give her a ring if I get stuck here later. Someone obviously wanted a BRAPA Year End Award!
Bell Frisby, Frisby-on-the-Wreake (2580 / 4738)
I'm standing at the bar admiring the 'Round Corner's Market Pale', I comment to the barman that I've not heard of this before, being an innocent man from York n all, when two bawdy blue blokes sat behind me pipe up about what a good drop it is, how they love York, and what brings me here etc. I pay for my drink and spin round to join them, thinking I've made some friends, when I notice they've put their jackets on, are zipping them up and say cheerio to each other (not me!), and leave in different directions! That sets the tone. Despite sitting beside the bar, no one comes near me again, I barely even see a staff member. 'Errrm, hellooo? Anyone there? I've not got leprosy you know!' And this is the one pub where neither Pedro nor Russell appeared! Maybe that was the problem? The low ceiling gives the pub atmosphere, the beer is spicy goodness, but it is experience is lacking. Possibly caused by my isolation, or that unsolicited extra Doom Bar earlier causing 5th pint of the day syndrome to kick in early.
The good news is that Frisby has a regular bus, sort of. You have to walk 18 minutes to the main road, look visible, and stick a long arm out well in advance, but in the grand scheme of Leics, I'll take it.
All goes well, I'm safely back in MM for my fifth and final tick of the day (my hopes of Nether Broughton had long since evaporated and Somerby was never really on, so I'll 'respect the five').
Half Moon, Melton Mowbray (2581 / 4739)
2023 pub ticking ends of a high with what is undoubtedly the strongest pub of the day. A cracking pint of Bass helps. Had a few farty ones this year, but this was spotless. If beer can be spotless. Pub has a quirky 'alive' hubbub, managing to straddle ages, sexes, and pitch itself halfway between bustling town centre boozer and rock music dive bar. People respond particularly well to Pedro, who has done his chances of not being sold to British Heart Foundation AFC in the January transfer window the world of good. Might not be everyone's cup of tea this place, but contentment swept over me, safe in the knowledge that I'd had a good Leics outcome today and I'd be on a train outta here much earlier than expected, which hadn't looked likely around Eye Kettleby time. Wonderful.
I'm over an hour earlier than the train home I'm booked on, but you know when you just KNOW that your ticket isn't gonna get checked? One of those nights.
So Russell, had you enjoyed your debut?
"Not enough Gordon Carolus" he says.
NO IDEA WHO HE IS.
Anyway, thanks for reading and I'll be back tomorrow to tell you about the time I went to Formby.
Don't say it too loudly but I'm nearly caught up on my blogging!
Si
