"You rang, m'lord" says the ghostly butler appearing at my arm as I enter today's first GBG pub. He looks a bit like an elderly vulture, but also a bit like Lurch from the Addams Family. This didn't happen of course, but it should've done. Welcome to the ever so slightly creepy and kooky, mysteriously spooky, all together ooky Woodlands, Silverdale (2412 / 3416). Atop a steep hill, it was giving haunted house vibes from the get-go, and people called Jane (serial entrance blockers, if you've ever met one) were being pin pointed as trouble causers before I even stepped inside:
With my Mary Quant tribute jacket zipped up despite the warm sun, I was glad I had my Daddy by my side for this experience! It smelt like an old castle. And where was the bar? We turned handles on a series of creaky heavy oak doors before arriving at a sort of annexe where a group of four men with terrified eyes implored us "don't go any further". The castle smell was now replaced by one of tobacco and nicotine. BRAPA is made of stern stuff however, so I turn one final door handle and by jinkies, a bar appears - beside a creepy Elvis bust, ancient fireplace and plenty of other quirky artefacts. "What ales do you have?" I ask gingerly , and an old lady appears from a cloud of dust and points gloomily to a blackboard behind us. Three elderly folk are here, customers and staff are indistinguishable. It is one of those types. They aren't really engaged, they seem a bit weary and wary, or as Daddy BRAPA said 'comatose'. Hard to describe, almost like they weren't 'present' in the same realm / dimension as us. A serious disconnect in the time space continuum. A small yappy dog tries to keep the mood light. It even sniffs out my quiche. The man finally gives in to its demands and takes it outside. Presumably for a walk (or a quiche) and not to be shot. But who knows. The ale is good, although the Isle of Purbeck is a long way from very NW Lancs. After pushing a few more heavy old doors to find the gents, where I'm reunited with Daddy BRAPA who had mysteriously gone missing a few minutes earlier, it was time to get the hell out. Sort of brilliant in theory, but ultimately, just very odd.
I'd been wanting to get that tick done for what felt like ages. Serious pubby monkey of my back. In fact, it was my only remaining Lancs tick that had been in last year's edition as well as the 2023 edition.
But with Sky Sports TV kindly thinking of BRAPA and putting Hull City's trip to Blackburn back to an incredibly rare 19:45 kick off on a Saturday, it would've been rude to not keep ticking.
And in a nice stroke of luck, there was a new GBG entry just a few minutes drive from Silverdale in a village called Warton. Daddy BRAPA was up for it, as evidenced here with a heroic Popeye pose .....
Again, it was impossible to distinguish staff from customer at the Malt Shovel, Warton (2413 / 4317) and you kinda know you're in a old school place when this is the case. There was only myself and one other bloke at the bar, so why the act of being served was quite so chaotic was baffling, and makes me pray for them at busy times. In their defence, there was a lady in the car park wanting Bacardi (a great sentence to say Bernard Wrigley style), and it had been so long since a Bacardi had been ordered here, no one could find the optic, perhaps the Bacardi optic was too farrrr. And the bloke next to me requests FIVE cans of orange tango ... well, they only had three left, so he had to go for two diet cokes, oh and a brace of Holsten Viers to complete an exhausting order. And why does he have wellies on? No wonder my mate from Blackburn was trying to disassociate this far north western corner of Lancs from even being part of the county. Very southern lakes? But I tell yer what, once we settled down, glorious bench seating, pool table, unpretentious surrounds, I can declare my 'Snake Slayer Stout' from Elgood's (more Locale there!) as being pint of the day. Dream lacings too. Col meanwhile had the beady eye of an equally stuffed buzzard to contend with in what proved a solid pub experience. Now CAMRA need to do the decent thing and keep some of these old school wildcards in the Guide - we don't want to be looking back on the GBG 2023 as a year where branches simply 'experimented' post lockdown for the giggles.
So there we have it, just the two pubs tonight.
Tomorrow, we'll continue south to Preston via Galgate where we'll meet a lizard, before Hull City thump Blackburn 0-0.
See you at the earlier, pre-watershed time of 7pm. In the spirit of Bo Selecta Davina McCall on Big Brother, I'll try not to say fuck or bugger.
Take care, Si
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