Saturday 20th July 2024, 2:30pm
After the joys of Northants (Welford) had come the disappointment of Leicstershire (Wigston and Barkby).
Could Nottinghamshire resuscitate the final Daddy BRAPA car day of the summer back to life?
Well, obviously not as you can tell from the blog title. But there were definite shoots of growth at our next 'pub' .....
Ohhh, 'Stanstead' Avenue, NOW I understand why they call it the Air Hostess, Tollerton (2918 / 5078) up a street full of unlikely terraced houses, with this oddity plonked on the end. Swiss ski chalet stylings with too many French windows, and an inordinate amount of outdoor decking which would make Wicks and B&Q blush collectively, at least you can't deny their commitment to REAL ALE with a festival going on in the garden below us. I peer at it gingerly from over a balcony which reminds me of when Julie Martin fell to her death on a murder mystery weekend in Neighbours #NeverForget. "So much choice!" I wail to the impressive guv'nor, and I'm just referring to the six beers at the bar. "Just wait til you see what we've got outside!" he replies. "DON'T DO THIS TO ME" I wail, like a theatrical ghost for comic effect. He chuckles and all barmaids around him like Robert Palmer backing dancers laugh poutily too. I like the people here. We sit on the crap balcony because it is clammy indoors and the carpet is a smothering 5/10 grey. A lonely lady eats shrimps. My guest Oakham begins promisingly, but becomes equally clammy. In the bogs, an old local tells an innocent younger visitor (not me, I'm always guilty) about the mining strike history around here. I wash my hands quicker than you can say 'New Season of Sherwood, Coming Soon to the BBC'. I find Dad scowling into his phone pretending he isn't here. Let's not be too unfair, I can sense the community hubbub. In fact, I can appreciate all they are trying to do, but even the merest hint of 'pubbiness' surely wouldn't have cost the earth.
We continue our northerly progress up through Notts and come to the narrow lanes leading to a village called Morton - not quite as off the beaten track as the GBG would have you believe as Fiskerton station looks a pretty easy walk. Not that I'm planning on returning.
Suddenly I'm looking on the Air Hostess with kindlier eyes as we enter suffocating low beamed dining dross in the form of the Full Moon, Morton (2919 / 5079), one of those "ahhh, so THIS is why I've never seen it in a GBG in BRAPA history up until now!" Reminiscent of the Square and Compass at Weston by Welland, and that isn't a compliment. Proper twinkly twonkly lighting peppers the ceiling. We are about the only customers, mid Saturday afternoon in summer, that speaks volumes. Barmaid puts in a good shift, volunteering to bring Dad's coffee (8/10) over and misunderstanding my distrust of a beer with the perfume-punned name 'Eau De Koln'. Wish I'd gone for it actually, Locale from Southwell, and this Wherry tastes of liver soup. The rain starts coming down and I spy a defibrillator in a phone box across the road and remark to Dad "hey look, a defibrillator in a phone box across the road" to which he replies "oh yes" .... it was that type of village. A BFG wanders in late on, far too tall for this ceiling, and bumps his bonce on successive beams in comedic fashion. It had been the kinda day where you had to take any entertainment where you could get it.
No more ticks til York, and just the four done! Slim pickins in the East Midlands suddenly, which I guess is testament to the great progress I've made this year.
But a chance conversation with a Donny biker bloke from work, combined with a quick browse at a Donny Drinker CAMRA mag provides us with a convenient pre-emptive / toilet stop a bit closer to home.
Brass Lamp, Harworth (though you might say Bircotes) couldn't be more on the Notts / South Yorkshire border, but a quick zoom in on a map tells me Notts, which is a shame, cos it feels more South Yorks to me i.e. better. Tiny but impeccably done with a good bloke in charge who has the right balance of friendly welcome / not too in your face. Huge dog sleeping on floor was a major obstacle in a building so narrow. Beautiful garlic smells emanate from somewhere, but definitely not a food pub so ghost garlic? Welbeck Abbey is the only ale on, a brewery who always do well by me, and easily today's best kept beer. Look at those lacings! Astroturf is a 7/10 as we sit out the back in a semi covered outdoor sliver. Conclusion is I don't think this'll make the GBG because CAMRA don't like including places with one handpump, no matter how well kept, which saddens me, but that's life (touch my bum). Also sad cos I wanted to tell my fellow tickers I'd unearthed somewhere they didn't know for once, but probably pointless. But a morale boosting finale to a tricky day. We didn't even have one back in York which surprises me looking back!
Join me tomorrow night where Notts will redeem itself, for the most part.
Don't let the bedbugs bite,
Si
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