Thursday 20th November 2025
Winter is here! I skid down to York station in near blizzard conditions, thankfully only a brisk seven minute walk from BRAPA Towers. I'm already against the clock for my train. My leaky boiler, which was repaired yesterday, is working, but now no heat is getting into the radiators. Why do these things always happen in the worst possible conditions?
At the station under the scoreboard, I get chatting to this chirpy lady. "I'm loving watching the expressions of all these business types arriving into the station, they look so fed up and bewildered!" she chuckles.
Whatever passes the time I guess. The trains to London before and after mine are both delayed by an unspecific number of minutes/hours. Mine is amazingly running to time. The impatient suits pile on. I somehow get to my reserved seat and pull out a panda, GBG and an Arctic coffee. I've lost my croissant somewhere.
Although I'm going on holiday to Croydon (said no one ever) in just four days time, I decide with the conditions as they are that it is prudent to stick to the confines of London - I had been debating Beds, Herts or Sussex.
Five ticks are needed to complete East London. Three held over from last year. Not entirely my fault. One was being refurbished whilst I was down there in April, so it didn't make sense to do the other two either.
Liverpool Street / Stratford and then that weird obscure curly line that goes dangerously Essex-wards. Tube station names like Grange Hill. THE Grange Hill? Gonch Gardner, Ziggy Greaves, Zammo, Danny Kendal. All seemed like future #Pubmen to me. Bet Roly could sink more than six pints a day. And an ESB. Even as a 12 year old.
One of the higher quality 'Spoons in the final three months of 2025, New Fairlop Oak, Barkingside (3139 / 5980) might have an odd location within a roundabout, and a light, airy aspect inside due to bay windows and rooflights galore, but there was a cracking community feel. Jolly codgers flying the flag. Accents like my 11 year old Saffron Walden self. Hardworking salt o' the earth lasses behind the bar, giving the banter back, assisting the frail elderly folk in their quest to find a table. Bringing drinks over. Heartwarming. A heartwarming beer too, literally. 'I WAS going to be sensible' (BRAPA epitaph?) and select the 4% Brewster's, but when it went off, I took it as a sign from Ye Gods that the beer that had first appealed to me, Abbot Reserve, was calling my name. Weighing in at hefty 6.5%, it gave me the ballast and beer jacket I needed for the long walk to pub two in a wind chill icier than 7am York. Sitting beside the door to the carpark also stopped me from getting too comfortable.
My face was predictably numb and achey by the time I arrived, must've been a good half an hour walk .....
You wouldn't expect it from the above photo, apart from perhaps that shonky used motor, but Crown & Crooked Billet, Woodford Bridge (3140 / 5981) mirrors the last pub for community conviviality. In a lesser part of London, this would be gastro hell. But here, close enough to Essex (which you might be surprised to learn is a bastion of proper drinkers pubs) to do the job. Barmaid and old dude are comparing cancers as I get served. Breast versus prostate. Hospital wait times, long term prognoses, this is like the most depressing game of Top Trumps ever. But seriously, the pub strikes me as one that gives a bugger. The London Pride drinks weller than the pub inhabitants. I've been clocked as a CAMRA type from second I'd walked in. 49p off a pint. Not quite Mudgie Voucher levels, but I won't quibble at the penny. A barmaid is wearing jingly bells and walking around with a box of 1970's tinsel. 'Too early for that shit, surely', I grumble. It'll soon be over. It already is. Another appears with a paintbrush and pot, bends over to much dirty old man mirth and starts varnishing a very specific area of flooring. Then she goes and rustles a pot plant. "Monty Don and Alan Titchmarsh have nothing to worry abaht!" booms an oldie. Pubs, aren't they grand?
I Uber'd to pub three. Despite being another 'Woodford', it was an even crazier walk. 45 mins+ I'd be happy with that in Cornwall or Wales, but not in London. Aamir did his job, I gave 5 stars but no tip.
Cricketers, Woodford Green (3141 / 5982) The offending pub from April (closed due to refurbishment) wasn't too offensive today, I'm sure you'll agree it looks promising from the outside but it never quite lived up to the exterior hype. McMullen's was my first issue. Is it harsh to dismiss their beer as slop? The further into BRAPA I go, the less patience I have with it. I go for a 'Boot Warmer' today, Santa on the clip, pretty inoffensive, certainly kept well, but doesn't do anything warming, chest burning, fruity or spicy. Their new oriental elephant upholstery is a style choice, but had it been a 'Spoons carpet, I'd give it 8 for boldness. A nervous student tells me she can't believe it is snowing in York, but I'm sad when she pisses off because I get stuck with a right negative Nelly, or Carol to be precise. She's seen off a husband and a late partner (who wasn't fit to lace her husband's boots anyway), now she has an ailing dog with psychological issues for company. That's why she's here. Waiting for a call back from the dog behaviour place, and they're late. But when an old lady with long velveteen gloves sits down opposite with a glass of Prosecco, Carol immediately blanks me and goes to talk to her instead. Charming! But she realises enough to address it, shouting back over to me "..... good thing about this place, you can talk to who you want when you want". Well, cheers Caz ya rude bitch, hope your poor mentally fucked up dog has run off and escaped your evil clutches. Bye.
Uber II of the day was here. I couldn't see any way to Hackney Wick without a few Tube / bus changes, though the cost only came out £2 more expensive than the trip between Woodford's. Marco, nice guy, Italian. Meant to give him tip and 5 stars but forgot both. Still, it is no wonder that by 20th December, with my Christmas shopping completed, I could scarcely pay off 50% of my Credit Card for the month!
What's the opposite of leaving an indelible impression on someone? Can you be delible? No squiggly red line under the word suggests so. That's Beer Merchants Tap, Hackney Wick (3142 / 5983) that is. Like entering a wooden school canteen, trays of snacks with allergen warnings. I normally find myself in the Hackney environs on scorchio summer Saturday's when England World Cup games are on, so at least today's low key gloom was easier to navigate. No hipsters called Tristan and Molly saying "go on Crouchie, stick one on yer head between the goalposts". Speaking of football, they do have some odd metal late 80's segregation grates, you know the stuff that got taken down after Hillsborough. Crush on in here, we're all doomed. The Skylark Stout is a mercifully sensible drink, served in a dimpled jug. Highlight is when a barmaid walks past, catching me during a moment of deep thought / mental boiler turmoil, playing out a conversation I'd have with boilerman in my mind. "You alright there?" she asks. "Yep, EXCELLENT!" I say quickly snapping myself out of it. A sign I best be pushing on!
A bit of Tube jiggery pokery (obviously couldn't justify another Uber / it was a 50+ min walk) gets me to Clapton. Final East London tick incoming ......
.... and pub of the day for added celebration. My Hull City mate Chris D has been telling me to come here for years as he used to live local, but it always gets booted from the GBG during the years I'm focussing on East London. Anchor & Hope, Clapton (3143 / 5984) is a true classic. So sparse and basic and old smelling, like a 17th century dockers arse (in a good way). No discernible difference between staff and punters. In fact I'm shocked when the old dude in spangly hat and neckerchief heaves himself up from his pint of ESB, and shuffles behind the bar to serve me a pint of the same. Him and his mates are quick to commend my beer choice. Never happens in Parcel Yard! And when they learn I'm a pub ticker from 'Yoik' travelling back tonight, on my final of five East London pubs, I'm given a souvenir ..... a chunky old bottle opener. He writes his name 'Russ' on (two of the three are called Russell) and draws and anchor in a marker pen. I ask the third if he's considered changing his name to Russell to mate it easier for drunk visitors (like me). Bottle opener has gone in the BRAPA souvenirs drawer next to my bed, I tell thee. Cracking stuff. Bladder busting Tube back to the centre incoming!
But I wasn't quite done yet, feeling it was important to capitalise on the time saved by the double Uber manoeuvre (which sounds great when you say it out loud) and head to one of my two remaining Central London ticks, both listed under Bloomsbury so close to Kings X.
I'd unwittingly picked the best of the two (as I'd learn before Christmas), but I was impressed by Duke, Bloomsbury (3144 / 5985) despite seating space being at a premium .... though I'd reached the stage I was happy to perch in a wobbly sort of way. I even hang my coat on a peg like a proper pub regular, and it felt good. Must do this more in 2026. The pub has a heritage star, and it showed, but what truly impressed me was (a) a cracking pint of Wadworth 6X which I've been lucky with of late and (b) just how 'human' the staff were - you know, like chatty, relaxed, witty. Not at all what you'd expect in Central London. And if #WokeSi2025 hadn't outlawed the BRAPA Brunette Barmaid of the Year award circa 2016, this barmaid might've won it, though she could be blonde / ombre haired, but we won't go into that. Anyway, it double stamped a highly successful Thursday, and my York train wasn't cancelled or even delayed so all good.
In fact, KX was so close, I even had time for a Parcel Yard ESB. Would be rude not to wouldn't it?
Right, there we go. No problems on the way back. Work was probably tough going Friday, but I can't remember.
I'm having a quiet couple of weeks now so really want to keep these blogs coming thick 'n fast.
I'll tell you about a fine day in the West Midlands on Wednesday, and then we'll blitz London 'in brief' (for me) in a crazy 3-parter where I tell you about 10 or 11 pubs at a time. And even then, I've only reached the start of December. This is gonna be a tough catch up!
And if you possibly can, in the meantime, keep it pub.
Si
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