BRAPA in .... SEASONS GREETLANDS : COMPLETING WEST YORKSHIRE
I kept up my BRAPA record of completing West Yorkshire every year since 2016 (it would've been 2015 too but for that pesky Wetherby) with a trip to Greetland, on the outskirts of Halifax.
With time of the essence and a delayed bus, not to mention gridlocked traffic & roadworks in the centre of 'Fax, I used my current safe word 'UBER' and soon, I'm stood with Daddy BRAPA atop a big 'ill waiting for 11:30am opening, recreating some of our favourite 'Happy Valley' moments:
Top Sarah Lancashire impression there
The flag is hoisted up the mainsail and the club has obviously opened early because one short sharp push of the door at 11:29am reveals a scene throbbing with happy drinkers.
Greetland Social Club (2651 / 4812) is a fitting place to end WY ticking on, sun streaming in onto a 9/10 carpet, no questions asked, and a helpful local around the cask side turns the two pump clips around so we can see what is on. Daddy BRAPA chooses best with Vocation Bread & Butter. My Bosun is, funnily enough, a bit too 'bready' for my tastes. Ladz start the streaming in like the sun. Pre-match Shaymen, or those unfit sportsmen who have 5 chip butties, 7 Madris, and then run around the park for ten minutes? Dad is quite taken by my new stripy cardigan (see below, not the carpet), and sends a photo to Mummy BRAPA saying he wants one! "You won't need a pub mascot if we turn up in matching stripy cardigans!" he exclaims. Shuddering at the thought, I hastily send Mum a message telling her to ignore anything he's said. The bus is ages away so I summons another Uber. 1 minute away, our man Mehrbahn has just dropped a lad off here in his Hyundai Ioniq. So I have to neck my ale quicksticks, button up and rush for the door.
Giving Mehrban a premature tip was a mistake when I look up and realise he's dropped us an eight minutes walk from our intended destination!
And that intended destination is the new Grayston Unity, Halifax. Another one of those pesky 'let's move premises just to mess with pub tickers'.
Unlike the Pub in Todmorden, this was a sympathetically done nod to the original (why are pub conversions always described as 'sympathetic', why never callous, merciless and disagreeable?) It has the signature fusty old smell, mismatched plush plunging armchairs, an 8/10 rug, great 3.4% Saltaire beer, and fairy pipkin staff. Ivor Panda went flying late on and this lad looks up like "why've ya got a panda?" No time to explain.
Time for a quick half somewhere, so I opt for a return visit to Kobenhavn. Impressive when visiting it as a pre-emptive with local hero Chris Dyson ("Nobody has more knowledge than Chris" to quote Alex Quosh in 2018) and I knew Daddy B. would appreciate the Scandi-noir Ikeatastic minimalistic interior just as I had.
Highlights involve ridiculous glassware and a visiting Woking fan with silly shoes and a football shirt that said 'Pure Genius'. Still, if you have ever been to Woking and enjoy your ales, you can fully understand the 'kid in a sweet shop' joy on his face throughout, and I wasn't going to quell his buzz. I'd have my buzz quelled in Radcliffe later, and it isn't nice.
But my abiding memory will be Daddy BRAPA's assertion that in this day and age where the UK is chock a block with microbreweries (and considering all the modern day talk of carbon footprints, low emissions, saving the planet etc.), it seems very wrong that the only dark beer available should have travelled all the way from North London. And not even good North London. Spursy North London. I totally agree, surely there's any one of amazing local breweries who should be supplying this pub? Hardcore beer chat. But he ain't wrong is he? Was a lovely beer btw, don't get me wrong.
I say goodbye to Dad at the station as he needs to get his replacement bus to Huddersfield to watch the mighty Tigers, whilst it is back to the BRAPA coal face for me with a bit more Greater Manchester ticking. The train was packed and I became the designated 'toilet monitor' ......
I'll tell you about GMR tomorrow, where the pub standard was about to decline dramatically. But then again, Halifax is a hard act to follow.
