BRAPA in .... PIE OF THE YEAR, IMPROVEMENT IN BEER, DRUNK EMMA STEER CLEAR (NORWICH NIGHTS)

My Google Pixel 8a hated the inside of the away end of Carrow Road so much, it created this new background as Daddy BRAPA supped down Wherry and a fruity Greene King guest pre-match.

Rare footage of Hull City fan smiling inside Carrow Road, Oct 2024

Less said about the match the better, but having been a lunchtime kick off, we could GET ON THE SESH sooner. Time to check in at the Premier Inn, half an hour to have a quick sink wash and eat some snax, and then get back out there!

Despite my 58,000 previous trips to the most overrated pub town in England, I still had FIVE GBG ticks, and that meant technically, BRAPA AFC 5-4 Norwich was still on if I could knock them all off. Or so I told myself to ease the pain!

Colin was with us, and if he got liver damage and went yellow, he'd look like a Canary cauliflower

Don't get me wrong, Norwich has some belters. But 34 GBG entries is ridiculous. My hometown of York has only 13 and is easily as good, I'd argue better. I might be biased. York could fill the Guide with 21 more where you'd generally get a good pint and say "I'm glad I came 'ere" but the quality might start to wane. And that's what I found in Norwich 2 yrs back. GBG allocation, it is a funny old game!

Thankfully, I'd drawn a map so I knew EXACTLY where all five were plotted .... fear not Daddy B!

We started with our tricky northerly outlier .....

Instant hit! I loved the Marlborough Arms (2722 / 5208) from the moment we walked up the steep steps and through the black corner door just like a proper backstreet boy would. Classically bare boarded, curvy bench seating, vintage signage apparently from local companies (Bass stood out but not sure it ever had a stint in Norwich). Unfussy, gentle and suitably grumpy. A Norwich Greatest Hits. Dad quickly identifies the pie blackboard, and although I've just had a snack, I agree we might not get a better opportunity (or a quieter pub) than this. Can't remember name of company, Miss Pi, the Pie Lady, something like that, but by 'eck, pie of the year! Mince & onion, that filling cor blimey. The Bisto gravy boat was a dream too and highly nickable. Glad I didn't mash and peas it too, filling! The exciting citrussy beer from Seething went floppy in the final third, reminds me of a football team I know, but I still think this is in my upper echelons of Norwich pub ticks.

Our weakest pub came next. Dangerously close to the centre for an early Saturday evening, swarm of irritating bees sat outside despite the increasingly chilly air, all emitting "look at me, look at me!" energy.

Oh, and no pub sign from the angle we approached it from had us peering at a menu on the door to make sure we'd got the right building .......

Weavers Arms (2723 / 5209) was posery, a 'Greatest Shits of Norwich'. 'Suffocatingly Norwich' I wrote at the time, I can't improve on that. In fact, it was a line that received praise on RetiredMartin's reassuringly like-minded recent blog. "BRAPA can be remarkably succinct for one so waffly" wrote one canny observer. Daddy BRAPA's body language was a picture - he needed zero words to express his distaste as we squash into an impossible corner near the door. On the plus side, the milk stout is delicious and the beermats are vintage. Oh, and I like dark pubs. But it wasn't enough, this old building is ill equipped for the invasion of truly terrible people. Think those drinkers who only go to pubs at Christmas. There's even two blokes at the bar making pervy comments to any woman who dares order a drink on her own. Dickhead dogs scrabble around. And worst of all, a dramatic old woman behind me who wants to get by, refuses to say "excuse me", pushes between the chairs like some martyr, turns around, puffing and blowing and exclaiming what a struggle it was. She does the exact same on the way back. Staff are charmless when I ask about the WiFi situation. This won't win BRAPA pub of the year.

The look of a haunted pint-bringing man

Pub three was a surprisingly long walk - almost like my map wasn't to scale(!)

But it was out of town, and gulps of fresh air were much needed after that hellllholllle.

Now was this the pub that had a public strop a few years back when it lost its GBG place? I might be wrong but the name rings a bell. I'd not been in any case.

Remnants of a beer festival at this 'Student dosser meets WMC', certainly not what I'd been expecting from the Garden House (2724 / 5210) in a leafy genteel part of the city. Surprise bouncers too, but they were soft as Andrex toilet tissue and hold the door open with a smile. That's how we do it Colmore! (c'mon Si, get over it). I like this pub. Had honesty. Beer choice was Bass or a student themed Brains - a 'no brainer' for me haha (sorry). Carpet an underrated 7.5, definitely an import from Great Yarmouth or Gorleston. Behind us, a long Hogwartian table of mostly Asian students sit patiently, waiting for tea to be served. Pizza, as it transpired. We sit over in the sports lounge, about 15 TV screens, Everton v Newcastle, Kieran Trippier in triplicate. A steady stream of 'ladz' wander in, look lost, get in the way, and then push off. This happens at least three times. The pizza delivery dudes wander through, deferentially ducking under the screen, worried they are spoiling our enjoyment of this 0-0 snoozefest. Surprisingly like Glasshoughton this one. I neck Dad's Bass dregs whilst he goes to the loo cos #Hardcore, a man collects our empties so I thank him for keeping a good pint and he replies "lolz, I don't work here, I'm just helping out!"

Dusk had fallen, and our shortest walk (my map didn't lie) takes us to a pub where you can hear the thrumming oompa-pa of locals from half way down the street. This was going to be fun!

Oktoberfest. I've never understood it. And now I've witnessed it in the backstreets of Norwich, I'm even more confused. Good atmosphere in Warwick Arms (2725 / 5211), I'd say electric but I think the majority had been unplugged by now, there was a sense of winding down, which incidentally is one of my favourite times to visit a pub. Barstaff have traditional German frilly wenchy dress / itchy lederhosen, but the beer comes in normal pints, not those huge steins I'd been expecting. And not a German style beer in sight, it is all Mr Winter's, Moongazer and all that lovely stuff you'd expect to see in a good Norwich real ale pub. In fact, if it wasn't for a banner, I'd not have known it was Oktoberfest or any fest. No room to sit down early on, but we're comfier perched at the bar than we were sat in the Weavers. Colin gets a sticky bum and some confused glances from the staff. "You mark my words Dad, there'll be a late goal" I tell him as the Everton v Newcastle snoozefest goes on. I was wrong. People leave. We get a seat. And that was that.

Final tick, slight trek in a central / hotel-wards direction. The pub appears to have been built in the most inconvenient location on a junction of busy flyover / underpass / roundabout. Still, maybe our pub woz 'ere first?

Champion (2726 / 5212) was perhaps the night's strongest pub, on what had been a cracking session and redemption for Naaaarch's poorish display in 2022. Bateman's surprise. Bit too late in the day to try and convince me I'm in Lincs and get me on the XXXB, luckily Oakham Citra is on - well kept - and I can't think of a better sixth pint of the night. But what made this pub great was just how wasted, happy and uninhibited everyone was. Dad returns from the loo looking all jittery. "Three .... THREE different people have just spoken to me ..... and they didn't even need to!" he whispers with wild eyes. If the Weavers was 'suffocatingly Norwich', the Champion is 'uncharacteristically Norwich'. Daddy B's problems aren't over yet as Drunk Emma squashes between him and another dude and puts her arm around both. She slurs a confession about being rather drunk, which wasn't exactly a newsflash. She asks Dad his thoughts. "Being drunk is fine, providing you are happy ..." replies the great man, more sage than the Christmas stuffing. Emma looks concerned. Her mind tries to perform the necessary mental gymnastics to figure this out. Before realising it can't. Then she leaves us alone. Perfect.

Back at the hotel, Dad does the impossible and makes a GOOD cup of tea using one of those tiny kettles. The key card for my room doesn't work, so after midnight, I spend 15-20 mins in reception recounting today's events to the receptionists!

Seven hours later, and it was is off to London for six days of ticking!

Si