Thursday 14th August 2025
York to Banbury direct? Didn't even know it was possible. It made the usual Dross Country train journey that little less drossier.
I was down here for three nights. Sixteen ticks needed to complete a clean sweep of North Oxon. Sounded straightforward enough but I felt daunted.
There were some real rural headaches laying in store - dodgy opening times, no bus or train for miles, unknown pavementless roads, the stuff that keeps BRAPA awake at night!
I decide to make day one the easiest. Partly due to Thursday opening hours, partly because I'm carrying around a big rucksack and can't check in to my Premier Inn at 3pm.
No sooner have I arrived in the home of the Bandies and Bangers according to my favourite Wikipedia page 'British Regional Nicknames', then I'm on a bus outta there. Bus scrote levels a healthy 6/10.
It's a fair old trek to Chipping Norton, which is probably classified under 'The Cotswolds' judging by the Chipping, the stone coloured buildings, the twee terrified inhabitants blocking the street with their groomed labradoodles, floral prints, artisanal gin carry outs and inability to leave the town.
Our first pub too, reminds me of those balmy late June days and how grateful I was to Paul G. for distracting from dining boredom with a random historical highbrow spoken word essay on the Iceni tribe etc.
Far too antiseptic and grey inside, can a pub interior be ''overcast'? Fox, Chipping Norton (3283 / 5769) is at least a good introduction to Hook Norton ales which I'd see in the majority of pubs this week, a great guestie called 'Hooked on a Vista'. Barmaid Bobby off of vintage Home & Away spills it twice into the drip tray, remarking '...that's the good thing about drip trays', which is the most exciting thing that happens apart from her colleagues struggle to write 'Spaghetti Bolognese' on a chalkboard. Three young ladies are lunching on prawns and prosecco right next to the bar, saying 'literally' every other word, like 'she literally turned around and literally called me a cow' which is better than those metaphorical turning around cow calling incidents you sometimes get. I'm here a long time, bus timings n all, and the tunes of Lighthouse Family make it feel longer, so I end up leaving earlier for a rummage around a bric-a-brac shop selling jigsaws and colouring books.
Halfway back to Banbury is Hook Norton, where I have two ticks to complete next door to each other (which is nice). Before that, I crane my neck in the general direction of the 'Rollright Stones', a less hyped Stonehenge, so-called because if you push them, they roll in the right direction #BRAPAFact
I have just under an hour to do two ticks so I race down the gravelly track towards the brewery tap .....
Fabulous building(s), it is more like a mini-village at the Malthouse Kitchen (Hook Norton Brewery Visitors Centre), Hook Norton (3284 / 5770). Where IS the bar? First I clamber up a staircase into a vaulted baronial hall, probably for functions and not poor neglected pub tickers. Then past some Hook Norton clothing, down some more steps into a huge gift shop shop, where a lady with a jaunty angled chin points me to a room full of coffee drinking pensioners. Not a pint in sight. A Swedish looking blonde business owner ("you'd be pretty if ya smile luv" as horrid non woke blokes in the 70's used to say) pulls me a lime themed guest 'Limelight'. Bit too much lime. But I had been warned. She encourages me to sit outside. "What about in?" I enquire. "You can take your chances" she replies ominously. I glance around and decide it isn't an atmosphere I'd enjoy, so choose out, hoping one of their famous Shire horses (Brigadier, Balmoral and Cromwell) would clomp past and neigh. Didn't happen. I've set a trend though, despite a stiff sirocco breeze, soon all the benches around me are taken #TrendSetter . I end up having to 'create' my lime beer on Untwappd cos it is so new and rare, which puts me three mins behind schedule, grrr. 27 mins til bus time, clock ticking, tick tock.
I dash back up the gravelly path so I've got near enough my allotted 25 mins to 'enjoy' the next one .....
Gives me the creeps does the Brian Blessed-esque guy with his headphones in, wildly staring blankly at me the entire time as if he can't actually see me, but opening his mouth to emit a silent chuckle every minute. 'Gordon's Not Alive', because he probably killed him. He spoils what could've been the holiday's first true great pub, Pear Tree Inn, Hook Norton (3285 / 5771). Barmaid and painter decorator barfly had started strongly, but go a bit clipped and aloof when I ask how to access the garden - there is no back exit, you have to go out the front, circle the pub and open a gate. Painful! But I certainly wasn't staying in that admittedly atmospheric beamed interior any longer. It may as well be in the Palk Arms in Hennock for the American Werewolf in London vibes it gives. The Hooky Mild is a chocolate ham sandwich delight of a beer, the garden kicks all those crummy smoking patios masquerading as beer garden's into touch. Superb. I return my empty glass, dunno why I bothered, all I get's a grunt. 73% of the GBG completed though, so at least I could leave with a self satisfied smile!
After briefly bonding with a lost Dutchman, the bus arrives (ten mins late) to whisk me back to Banbury for check in time. One of the nicer Premier Inn outlooks, overlooking the canal .....
I quickly unpack, have a snack, then with my new lighter bag packed (GBG, mascot, highlighter pen, biro, notepad and charger only), I hop off into Banbury town centre for three of the four GBG I need to take my tally up to six for the day.
Look, of course I could push for a seventh but a tactical morale boosting 'Banbury leave' would serve me well at the end of a tricky Friday / Saturday.
I swear that it cannot just be the end of Thornbridge Jaipur era of supremacy, but for the past month, my GBG 'Spoons visits have been uncharacteristically shitty. Exchange, Banbury (3286 / 5772) never convinced. At least there's some perky banter at the bar as this bonkers couple quiz the staff on peanut butter whisky, and when I tell them about my nut allergy, the lady strokes my shoulder. But that was as good as it got. Of the ten handpulls, five were fruity ciders, and Trooper was the most 'unusual' beer choice. I went Abbot cos I like the woozy malty strength and 'throat heat' it brings. It starts well, but flopped to Sunderland Cooper Rose levels in the second half. The carpet is a disappointing 5/10 but there are some cosy private booths. Far too many flies buzzing around, forcing me to speculate which one of the motionless old buggers is actually a corpse.
Time for another quick interlude as I do a Tesco shop to get my through the next 24 hours, and then I hop across the road for pub five.
Another uninspiring tick at the Coach & Horses, Banbury (3287 / 5773). You don't necessarily have to have been inside a pub previously to feel annoyed about a modern refurb, you just KNOW it was better in the past. One of those occasions where I wonder if the people responsible even like pubs, or have actually been in one before. A gaudy tangle of bright leafy greens, bee eater and pink flamingo prints, bored pastels, disgusting wallpaper and far more posing tables than low down seats. Yes, your legs will be a-danglin'. The shape is all wrong too. Despite looking like a nasally congested bloodhound with spaniel hair, I'm impressed with the barman. Chatty as he pulls me a 5% Hook Norton seasonal, Haymaker, and it is good stuff. The atmosphere is easy as a group of twentysomethings plan a birthday party, well easier than every other pub today which isn't hard, but I'm still delighted to heave my heavy Tesco bag out of here and onto pub six.
But just when I'd given up on Banbury's ability to produce a decent pub, it hits me with 'pub of the day' late on .....
An ancient inn with an overhanging pub sign which you can see from space (well, Bicester), Ye Olde Reine Deer, Banbury (3288 / 5744) reminds me of the golden era of York's Olde Starre Inne circa 2008. Civil war wood panelling, and apparently Cromwell (not the Shire horse) did bits in here, you'll never sing that. But with great history comes great American tourists. A local farmer from somewhere out Hook Norton way has got a lady from Idaho on the Old Hooky - she confesses it is a difficult taste to acquire after a lifetime of drinking milk and whisky sours. She's dropped a coin through a gap in the bench and I'm not sure how valuable this coin is but the entire pub minus me is soon scrambling around on hands and knees searching for it. "You got a torch on your phone Geoff?" "Arrr, that's tha baby Frank". It is all too much for the Idahoans who whisk themselves off to the beer garden leaving the locals still hunting around. I just sup my Old Hooky, feel wobbly, rosy, sleepy but contented, and realise with a tough day's walking planned tomorrow, I best not stay out any longer / fall asleep in the pub.
A few people on TwXtter/Bluesky do indeed query my lack of White Horse visit, but I see this as a positive sign that you lot do concentrate occasionally.
Part two is a long way off because I'm going on holiday tomorrow night, but fear not, it will involve plenty of ticks. So see you on social media in a pub either Fri night or Sat morn.
When I'm back in a week, I'll do my month end blog and then crack on with parts 2 & 3 of this. Then I think the 2026 GBG will be nigh. Exciting times.
Keep keeping it pub, Si
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