BRAPA in .... SHUSH, THERE'S A HIDDEN GEM IN SHUSTOKE (NORTH WARWICKSHIRE REDEMPTION)
Si Everitt
4 minutes ago
11 min read
Saturday 21st February 2026
Right, here we go. Knackering blog this, so sorry in advance.
North Warwickshire - The Return : Unfinished Business. Lessons to learn from the last two Saturday trips. This time, there'd be no mistake!
Phone fully charged. Check! Power bank fully charged and in my bag. Check! Back up plug packed. Check! Walking boots by the door ready to slip on at 6:40am. Check! This was me on Friday evening. You wouldn't think I'd been doing this BRAPA lark for nearly twelve years would you? I guess you're never too old to learn from your mistakes.
The DrossCountry down was chaos, and it wasn't until I reached Birmingham New St that I could reach for my air-fried croissant and Arctic coffee. To my surprise, the cause of the pain wasn't L**ds fans on their way to Villa, but the Mariners on their way to Bristol.
Despite drinking cans of lager 2cm from my face, they weren't actually too scummy, and even made friends with a Donny fan who'd failed to to secure a ticket for his game but as he had 6 of the 92 football league grounds to do, he was off to Swindon instead.
"The problem is, teams move grounds, and because of promoion from/relegation to the Conference, the 92 change every year!" he moans. Try ticking 4,500 pubs that change every year pal, I had little sympathy!
Unlike a fortnight ago, the train to Atherstone has me changing at Tamworth instead of Nuneaton. 30 min connection wait, so I rang Mum for our Hull City prediction league. Oh how I laughed when she told me Dad had precicted a 1-3 defeat! Lolz, what IS he like?! It's QPR, not Barcelona mate!
I booed the giant Tesco, smaller Morrisons, and inept AA Mobiles #NeverForget and settle down with some friendly old duffers at Atherstone bus station, in happier spirits than two weeks previous. There's even a touch of warmth in the morning sun. Unheard of!
The elderly bus bobbed about happily and I'm surprised just how 'joined up' Baddesley Ensor is to civilisation. Let's face it, the name evokes mystic rural backwater. I had to tackle this one first as it closes at 3pm.
I press the bell a few stops early and loiter for five mins on boggy green land featuring one of those sinister ducking ponds for witches and visiting pub tickers. It gave me this nice approach .....
11:59 am, very open, a local already sat at the bar halfway down his pint. That's what you wanna see! Red Lion, Baddesley Ensor (3275 / 6115) is a jewel, a true throwback. Set the tone for a day of utmost quality. Quinno had been impressed this time two weeks ago when I was just a few miles away but down to 10% battery, and he doesn't dole out his pubby compliments lightly. Look, I'm not saying he's a jnr. curmudgeon, but if he hated a pub I'd previously loved, I'd be forced to reassess my entire life rather than think he's mistaken. Tiled floors so stoild, a carpet would've looked silly - you won't often here me say that. Okay, so the local sitting at the bar (he saw a heron drop a fish but the guv'nor didn't believe him) is disappointed I'm not someone he recognised, but I still felt at home, the whole atmosphere was so easy and effortless. Even when a weird Birmingham City fan (c'mon Si, narrow it down!) wanders in and starts saying it is chaos in 'town' cos the women and men are playing at the same time. That confused everyone. No one knew the 'town' in question was Birmingham. Was a Women's FA Cup v Chatham really packing the place to the rafters? And the men are away to Norwich so huh? He's forced to clarify, and you could tell everyone hated his ridiculousness so he scurries off. The Bass is drinking great, of course it is, meatier and fuller than those I had in Bulkington two weeks back. My only (very minor) gripe was the overpowering smell of Glade plug-ins which seemed wrong for a pub like this where you'd expect wood smoke and arse, but never mind.
But I couldn't afford to hang around. First of two crazy walks using my revolutionary OS map It is raining again, of course it bloody is as I leave Baddesley on foot, down towards Baxterley - half through the woods, half on a grimy busy main road thankfully with pavement.
The plan was to stop at the Horse & Jockey in Bentley for a pre-emptive half, which has been known to serve Bass & White Rat, but my App turns me into deeper woodland before I reach it. Now I'm really glad for wearing the correct footwear, especially when I come out at the Ridge Lane end which is basically a bog swamp.
Note to self : save these sort of BRAPA trips for dry summery months in future years!
In an unlikely location not exactly well signposted tucked away off the main street, I find Church End Brewery Tap, Ridge Lane (3276 / 6116). As I approach, a young lady is just finishing eating something flakey like a sausage roll or Coventry God Cake and as she dusts the crumbs away, it sounds like she's applauding my arrival, so I acknowledge her and everyone else outside which causes a brief moment of mirth! I'm not smiling for long. Pub queue alert! A charmless laptop man is rightly sneering at them. I can tell that the (excellent) barstaff aren't impressed as they're encouraging them forwards but a blanket announcement like "STOP QUEUEING YOU DORKS, MOVE FORWARDS!" would've been better. Had I realised that the four handpumps to the left bar were all exciting strong dark beers, I'd have camped myself there straight off, but I end up just pacing about growling like a wounded tiger. Situation's made worse as all the beardie CAMRA men cannot make a beer decision to save their lives, wanting tasters galore. I can see staff trying to hold their patience together! One guy even grunts that he can't see lager, his 'favoured' style. They cheerfully tell him Church End do a lager, but he wishes it was Carling. I'm straight in with my Fallen Angel, and can tell barmaid appreciates my low maintenance. I sit in the large vaulted side room with light wood and huge bunch of young walkers who are the Captain Caveman's Teen Angels, Scooby Doo Mystery Inc. , Nuts in May and Five Go Mad in Dorset, all at once. Conclusion : a high quality, above average brewery tap, but still a brewery tap!
Should've all been drowned in the Baddesley Ensor pond at birth
"C'mon mate, please make a decision" (probably her thoughts)
My next walk was gonna be trickier than the first, if my OS map was anything to go by. OOF!
What didn't help is that the ridiculous walking gang set off just before me, in the SAME direction and I end up in the road dodging cars just so I can overtake them, yelping a quick 'cheers!' to group leader Velma as I sprint past her. "I take it he's not with us!" quips Daphne, just behind her. But if it actually had been Daphne, I'd have hung back for a chat. Zoiks indeed.
Crunch time comes next as I cross into the rudely named Lady Wood Farm. Could I get through? Am I even allowed through? You have to zoom in to the nth degree on the OS map to see this path. A scary dog barks, but thankfully I see no people and the reassuring black dotted path joins up at t'other end.
A few squelchy fields follow, I try not to trample on the crops but it ain't always easy. I lose my bearings across the last field, but follow the hedge around and find a gap onto the main road near Church End .... I wonder if the brewery was based here before they moved to Ridge Lane, or they chose Church End cos it sounds 1% more romantic?
It doesn't matter, pub three is in almost sight! Stones in mud caked shoes, damp trouser legs, a car even gives me a friendly toot.
'Probably a BRAPA fan' I half wonder, feeling slightly euphoric now, well until Mummy BRAPA sends me this ....
Well that killed the euphoria, silly Hull City! This is why Daddy BRAPA is top of the prediction league.
Having said that, I'm pleased for QPR fan and friend of the BRAP, Martyn the Family Rug. Had the Devil appeared in a puff of smoke at Bristol Parkway last September and said "Oi Si, I'll trade ya six rural Gloucs ticks for the chance to beat QPR at home next Feb" I'd have said "No Devil, piss off you evil creature!"
Considering that I wasn't seeing the Lord Nelson, Ansley (3277 / 6117) at anywhere near its best on account of the (superior) right side room being chock-a-block with Six Nations watching goons (standing room only, men, women, old, young), I can still appreciate I was in a high class pub. 32 consecutive years obviously counts for something. They do their own ales called 'Sperrin'. Makes ya nervous but I needn't have worried. A barmaid sees me from the far end, I've moved left to a long airy room full of empty chairs and just one friendly old man watching horse racing. I can't get anywhere near the handpumps so ask if they have anything dark on, still fuming at myself for the Church End mis-step. "We do, but it is 6.8%" she says, AS IF that'll put me off! 'Thick as Thieves' they call it, treacly choc banana deliciousness. Having fought my way through the crowds to reach the Gents loo, I find a side door to prevent me from going back the same way. Glad I did as it showcases the pub quite nicely. I bump into a lonely blue tropical fish in a huge tank, see a ship in a bottle AND pose with a statue of David Gower who is wearing the 1993 Axa Life Sunday League Leicestershire kit. I know I'd only ticked three pubs, but any pub was a bonus from here. Plan was to get a bus back into Nuneaton (our nearest town) for my final tick there, then perhaps the Wolf in Brum to finish. But whilst I've got the WiFi code, why not try for an Uber t'other way to Shustoke? Nothing will come of it but worth a try. To my astonishment, Starin is 7 minutes away. 'Down it, down it!' (not easy on 6.8% treacle).
Best BRAPA pub scissors since Manor Inn, Pudsey, 18/12/19
Bloody Uber, too efficient! Now I had to re-think the rest of my day, because Shustoke is even more isolated the Ansley and Baddesley Ensor, and maybe Ridge Lane too. It does have two pubs to tick though, a 20 minute walk between the two. This was the remotest .....
Good grief, what a pub the Griffin, Shustoke (3278 / 6118) is! The best pub today and favourite I've been in so far in 2026, which considering the strong opposition today is no mean feat. And judging by the reaction to my TwXtter / BlueSky posts, not a 'known' classic either which shows hidden gems still exist. It is awash with woodland folk with Sylvanian family features, but no rugby watchers here, all I can hear is chatter emanating from the mood lit side rooms, snugs or those propping up the bar and warming themselves by the fireplace. The beer range is incredibly pleasing, and after that 6.8% killer I'm glad to see the word 'Mild'. Shame I fail to read the 'XXL' next to it. 6%, oops, I'm gonna be drunk at this rate! Tis delicious stuff from Green Duck but why even call it a mild? Is like Black IPA. Makes no sense. Whilst I'm at the bar and everyone is so responsive, I ask if there's a pavement down to the Plough (there is) and if I can have a WiFi code due to reasons of isolation (I can). Then I sit in this side dark smoky bubbling 17th century creaky room and a couple see me gawping in delight and ask if it is my first time in here. They'd been playing 'what's he drinking?' He'd guessed Old Peculiar, she'd guessed the Mild, so she wins. Such an impressive lady, apart from her love of Thornbridge (jeez Si, let it go, it's been 4 years!) Especially love the bit where she said it's a bit of a fallacy when people bemoan shut pubs, because in reality, the pubs shutting are generally the shite ones, you only have to look this place to see that if you're good enough, you can do wet-led and be popular no matter how remote you are. Been saying the same for years, so has Daddy B., bet he wishes he was here instead of trying to escape Hull right now. I let her do the highlighting, she has earned it.
Time to get moving. Befitting of this pub, as I step outside and groan cos it is raining again, reaching for my wide-brimmed green rain hat which makes it look like I'm a fisherman on drugs, a chap called Chris appears and says "Cor, you're not walking to the Plough in this are ya? If ya hang around while my mates finish their drinks off, I'll give you a lift down!"
Well I consider it for a brief second, but he has a lot of mates with a lot of half drunk pints, so 'we' decide it makes most sense if I start walking and if he sees me, he'll stop and drive me the rest of the way.
Well I speed walk it, and I never do see Chris & mates, which doesn't hugely surprise me!
You've gotta feel sorry for the Plough, Shustoke (3279 / 6119), such a sturdy atmospheric inn with the tiled flooring, distinct rooms and bygone farmhouse feel that had made today such a success. However, it lacked pretty much all of the magic of the Griffin, does food and was a touch too quiet for a Saturday afternoon. I do think it'd be the best pub in the vast majority of UK villages, it is just unfortunate it is in Shustoke. A light Castle Rock only slightly stronger than Harvest Pale is absolute relief after those two 6%+ pints of treacle. I'd have ordinarily gone Bass but in the circs, I hope the BLC (Bass Lovers Committee) can forgive me! Some anxiety about getting back to civilisation, if you can call Coleshill Parkway railway station civilisation. I was originally going to tackle this on foot on a sunny Thirsty Thursday in the coming months, until fate / Uber intervened. Uber again comes up trumps however, and I have tonnes of time to get to Birmingham New Street before my York 19:21. What a five ticks it had been, Nth Warwickshire you my new favourite pub part of the country.
Back in Brum, my body told me a coffee and a baguette and a nice quiet sit down on the concourse was a good idea, but my brain was feeling far too jubilant, so I headed off to my favourite Birmingham pub, Craven Arms .....
You're so (C)raven
Perhaps the best BCA pub too? And I've been to a lot of those in the past five years. Despite having to sit at the bar and wonder if a Derby Porter is too much too soon after THOSE two 6%ers I don't like to talk about, the pub is on fine form with fire in and carpet a solid 8.25/10. I was enjoying a bit of Winter Olympics finale, but I'm able to turn my back on the Six Nations when the channel is switched over. A man from Staines keeps shouting 'C'MON WALES!' but no one is irritating otherwise.
Those who prefer the Bull I won't argue with, for that is my second favourite and it is close run thing. And the Woodman, I've not been since re-opened, keep forgetting it exists, so I respect that opinion as it would've been great on my visit if students hadn't been so pissed. For those who said the Wellington, I raise a skeptical eyebrow. And for the chap who said Colmore, Bacchus and Cherry Reds are equal or better, a one week ban from all BRAPA content.
The train home was hellish. Not Grimsby, but L**ds this time. At one point, I say to the bloke next to me "typical L**ds scum" cos he looks friendly, but oops, he too is a L**ds fan but admits yes they are scum, so I feel bad and admit even gentle loving Hull City has a scum element, but we chat football all the way back, what a pleasant chap. Apologies to his wife/girlfriend, she was on seat across and didn't get word in edgeways but seemed very smiley.
It had been a classic day out, bet you are exhausted just reading that. 13 to go in Warwickshire! But see you tomorrow in a county I've not been to in ages for more Thursday action.
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