Saturday 19th July 2025
Three 'gentle' summer Saturday's with Daddy BRAPA remain before the mayhem of the football season commences, and after Hawick & Galashiels 48 hours earlier, a 'tonal shift' (thanks Steve!) sees me right down on the south coast for today's adventure.
Sussex, whether it be the Londonny influenced east or the leafier west, usually does pretty well by BRAPA but today would prove uncharacteristically poor on both the beer and pub front. Dad agreed, this'd prove to be one of our weaker summer outings.
King's Cross, London Victoria and a mad dash across Lewes station had us in Seaford for noon, though with hindsight and both pubs open early, there would've been a case for a crazy 6am train from York to alleviate the pressure we'd find later on in Brighton.
Station taps, in my incredibly humble option, are one of the stronger pub genres out there so I'd have to rate Steamworks, Seaford (3254 / 5741) as a mediocre example, though in the context of the overall GBG, it'd probably just about slide into the above average category. Fans of Linlithgow's Platform 3 and Rye's Waterworks might recognise it as a less thrilling version of either. Daddy B, modern day model railway enthusiast, wasn't impressed with their faux Flying Scotsman coverage above the fireplace. At the bar, the southernest dodgiest geezer ever bawls "I want this to be a smoothly run operation" into his phone, and if he'd added "so Rodney, don't be a plonker", no one would've been surprised. The Long Man beer was passable, and I decided there'd be no more Ryan Longman jokes this season in case he comes back to haunt us for Wrexham (p.s. Carabao Cup fixtures don't count).
With the rain starting to blob down, we enter pub two from the rear .... plenty of folk are milling around by the door unable to decide whether to go inside or stand around getting wet.
My love of pubs is weirdly deep-rooted, I sometimes wonder if I ran a village inn in the 18th century in a past life! One of the first pubs to 'really speak to me' as a child (never a twild) was the New White Bear in Tingley, not far from L**ds where we used to go to lunch with my grandparents. Loved how dark, carpetted and gorgeously grotty it was, with my Fuzzy Felts and lemon sorbet and scampi & chips in a basket, rushing off to the space invaders machine with my sister pretending to be controlling it when we'd not even put any coins in! So how strange in 2025 to find a pub resembling it so closely in the form of Old Boot Inn, Seaford (3255 / 5742) , mixed with Bridlington holiday park pub. The carpet is a disturbingly stained 5/10, it is a chaos at the bar but the barmaid is proper 'on it', serving five people at a time, I'm always in awe of the brain power involved. Half the tables are reserved, but no one knows by who, or when. My elbows stick to the table, so Sammy the Sani Handwipe replaces Colin as pub mascot for this one. Against the odds, the obscure Fauna beer drinks well .... though i think I was only a Watney's Red Barrel away from the full 1970's pub experience.
Time for today's 'tricky manoeuvre', a bus out to leafy Litlington. Of course it is delayed. Of course the rain starts teeming down heavier than ever, and of course the bus stop has no shelter.
And when it does arrive, it is one of those 'Care in the Community' minibus things run by volunteers and the dithery lady can't get the ticket machine working so we sit there an extra 10 mins whilst she rings some bloke to reset it despite my "look, it'll be easier if I just give you cash" protestations.
Finally we're off and a few flooded country lanes later, the brakes screech to a halt right outside the pub.
Plough & Harrow, Litlington (3256 / 5743) looks a beauty on first glance, but it is hell inside. A feeding frenzy. Every South Londoner between the age of 25-40 is here with the sole intention of ruining rural Sussex for real life people like myself and Daddy B. In all the mayhem, I lose the great man as I get the drinks in. A well meaning couple offer me their soon to be vacated seat, but I've already noticed the rain has stopped and the garden is pleasant. 'Toads on the road at night' says one sign. Dad reappears and agrees outside is preferable to in, even if it does mean a soggy bottom. Talking of bottoms, mine is struggling. My second Long Man ale of the day (brewed just a few feet up the road) is dire yeasty slop and my bowels are in turmoil. Sadly we've set a trend and all sorts of Toby's and Jocasta's with their wellies on are hooray Henrying their way outside. Ugh. Dad temporarily hides in a shed. But in happier news, I've found an unexpected bus all the way through to Lewes without the need to change at Berwick (not the Tweed one) which is MASSIVE for my hopes of getting the full six ticks in.
The bus is another Care in the Community classic, but at least it is on time and the ticket machine is working. I realise I could've factored the Ram Inn at Firle into today's equation if I'd known we were taking this route, but never mind, one obscure rural tick is probably enough when you're down and back in the day.
We're dropped at Lewes Station and that's not very convenient because the pub is a 15 minute walk across town, and quite a hilly town in places if my memory serves correct. The rain is now a distant memory and it is scorchio once moreio.
Of course, it had to be Harvey's though I choose a guest which is hot n' fruity like HP sauce, would be perfect for a winter's night in front of the fire, but not so much here. Dad buys us some 'Sussex Crisps' (not Yorkshire crisps but still 8.5/10) to take the edge off, and despite my earlier Long Man troubles, all quiet on the bum front this time. Dorset, Lewes (3257 / 5744) is one of the stronger pubs in the scheme of today, although it won't live long in the memory and I'm not even sure Lewes regulars would rank it in their top five pub lists. But the bar is a fine wooden specimen, their trophy cabinet contains far more silverware than Hull City's, and Dad gets spooked.....
One year, I'll receive my new GBG, cross-tick East Sussex, and won't have a new Lewes pub to tick.
Could 2026 be that year? We will see, but from BRAPA's 2014 inception, it is yet to happen. What churn!
And even if that happens, I still have a 0.1% question mark hanging over both Brewers Arms and the John Harvey Tavern because I ticked them pre-BRAP, I think I'll force myself to go back sometime before I declare on my GBG completion circa 2044.
We trudge back to the station and onwards to Brighton. We hadn't lingered today at any point, that bus had been kind, we'd been in our first pub shortly before noon, and yet it'd be a major effort to get two more ticks done to finish the day on six.
Being sensible and a non-ticker, Dad decides he'll meet me in the Great Eastern in approx 45-50 mins so I sprint down to the seafront to sneak in my extra pub .....
A top pub and I couldn't stay nearly long enough to enjoy it, pah! Summed up my day. Hole in the Wall, Brighton (3258 / 5745) is a micro of some depth bustling with the great unwashed, and recommended to me only two weeks previously by Nottingham Forest fan legend Pete Blackburn, who you may or may not remember from my 'Car Colston to Bingham across fields by Ordnance Survey' jaunt a couple of winters back. He'd asked me for Brighton tips, and I'd only really been able to say Evening Star with any confidence, all other pub memories here a bit hazy and average. But the HITW was the real deal. Knowing time is limited and there's no point getting comfy, I perch on some woke posing nonsense with pint of the day Verdant on song, and because my big fat head was in the way of the beer board, I kept thinking people were staring at me, then realised, then felt obliged to make cask recommendations I knew nothing about, whilst simultaneously texting Dad with a Great Eastern ETA. The final beer board lurker tells me "no one looks each other in the eye anymore" so I promise I'll look him in the eye if he insists. After all, I am from the 'norf'. It had been fun in a high octane overly pressurised kinda way.
I race back up the hill to the station fast as my legs can manage, swing a right, break into a jog, nearly tread on a lesbian cat, trip on a paving slab, and career head first into the pub, just about 25 mins allotted drinking time, I'd done well .....
.... I carry on past a DJ spinning a couple of 5pm bisexual turntables and it is perhaps the most Brighton thing I've ever witnessed. I like the Great Eastern, Brighton (3259 / 5746), a good mixture of traditional, modern and music dive bar. Waiting for me at the far end, dropping a couple of heavy beats, pint on table ready for me as promised on WhatsApp is Daddy BRAPA. I've no idea what it was but it was golden, southern, neckable and came in one of those dimpled jugs which is exactly what I'd expect from a place like this. Upstairs I think was where the loos were and felt as if I'm walking through a fairground ghost train, and I discover large bay windows you can stare out from and get flashbacks to a pub you won't know called the Fleur de Lys in a village beginning with 'W' near Saffron Walden. Funny how the brain works (on six pints). And then we discover a cut through to the station to totally take pressure off our walk for the train ride back to Victoria. Hurrah!
In all the mayhem, I'd failed to recognise a semi 'interesting' point. Last week's adventure finished in Bewdley's Great Western, and today's finished in the Great Eastern. Great Northern next Saturday? I think that is Luton, so no. I don't think I've heard of a Great Southern.
Despite my best endeavours, even I was forced to admit there wasn't time for a Parcel Yard ESB. Waaaah!
With BRAPA rocketing up towards 75% and increasingly outlandish pub destinations required, I suggest to Daddy B. that 20:00. 20:30 or even last train 21:00 might be a better King's Cross departure time on future days, but he isn't keen, feeling the 19:27 or 19:30 are his limit due to the late home time. This could be a sticking point when we talk about renewing his contract next month? Poor Daddy B., but 'tis a brutal sport this pub ticking (kidding, I'd never ditch him!)
Right, I'm going away for a long weekend, so blog-wise I'll be back early next week to tell you all about the lovely time I straddled the Berks / Oxon border.
Keep it pub, Si
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