If Scottish bridges were Wetherspoon's carpets, I'd be giving this a 9.5/10. The kind of bridge that a wee troll called Hairy McTavish lives underneath and spears unsuspecting Sassenach's on the way across.
But not today Mr McTavish, this was one of those days where the BRAPA gods smiled on me from the word go up to the drunken conclusion. How else can I explain making a five minute connection in Edinburgh Waverley station earlier, the hardest station to navigate your way around with the exception of Birmingham New Street?
This meant I landed in Stirling half an hour earlier than scheduled for the first of three ticks.
My early opener was the furthest out and took me through unlikely modern housing estates north of town, past a garden full of gnomes inviting kids to come for a look around (definitely not weird), and into a play park, the pub tucked away on the left.
A beautiful barn conversion, the low-lit Birds & Bees, Stirling (3232 / 6073) grabs me by the scruff of the neck and welcomes me warmly, main guy and elderly barfly both very chatty. Like a better version of Oakham's Grainstore brewery tap or that weird thing in Bourne (narrows it down eh?!) , the Ridge IPA from Harviestoun is bitterer than a wronged Watford fan but the quality absolutely pings, 5* and it slides down. Relief after my terrible Tillicoultry duo last time I was up here. Having left the bar area to explore and take the odd photo, I'm now conscious I could be appearing rude / anti-social to the old chap at the bar, but distance is no barrier and he's still chatting to me from a great distance. It is a good half hour walk back into Stirling centre, so I don't wanna linger, but when the chap learns of my plans, he offers me a lift. "I'll just sit in the car, it is the blue one parked out front!" he cries whilst I'm mid-wee. Wow, suddenly I'm rushing to neck my last third. But I still have time to tell the owner what a cracking pint it'd been.
He introduces himself as Callum. His wife died recently so his Saturday routine to get him out of the house is to go fishing early, come to the Birds n Bees for one, and then drive back home and meet a pal for a Guinness or two down some random non GBG local. What a guy.
His BRAPA logistics don't rank quite so highly. Having claimed that the Settle Inn wouldn't be open until later, we pull up at the door but as per my online research, it is indeed open.
"You may as well drop me here" I tell him, pleadingly. AKA : LET ME OUT OF THE CAR. We'd already established that this is my furthest pub from the station AND is up a big hill. But no, Callum ain't having it, carries on and drops me outside Nicky Tam's. Oh well. I wave him farewell, feign to go inside, and march back up bloody big hill. Still, isn't one of the best parts of BRAPA the kindness of random strangers?
No kindness of random landlady / barmaid here at the Settle Inn, Stirling (3233 / 6074), a chilly welcome made worse when she's super friendly to a soon-to-arrive couple even though they'd tell me that this is their first time in here too. HATE that, treating people differently. English accent? The fact I'm a solo male traveller? I can't see any other reason for it, I was perfectly friendly. Shame as the Black Forest mild from Loch Lomond is bangin' and the pub is an inner stone walled, ancient fireplaced woodburnery delight. Arriving first is a group of women of northern European extraction. They get nowt from our host either so I greet them individually, thinking there'll be two or three. But they just keep coming! Must be about ten. Can't go playing favourites can I, so I say hi to all individually. Exhausting! They are confused over which drinks to order, looking gingerly at the handpumps. So the landlady tells me they are the 'warmer' beers, then points at the keg ones saying these are cooler. Of course, they all go keg. I despair sometimes. But my mood picks up when the couple I mentioned earlier arrive. Pre distillery tour snifter, I invite them to squeeze in the corner next to me. She's a Falkirk fan like me but less plastic. He's Rangers. He wants to talk Hull City, John Lundstram, Dean Windass and Kieran Dowell. She wants to talk BRAPA. I want to talk Crawford Baptie, Ken Eadie and Simon Stainrod! But despite no one getting their own way, just like Callum it was a heartwarming high point of the day. Well, tunil they leave and barmaid is all jokey and lovely with them, then I return my glass, say goodbye, and get a second grunt!
Back down the hill then for pub three. A law of BRAPA Scottish averages surely tells us there's gonna be a downturn in quality coming up......
But no, I'm wrong and so are you! It is hit number three at Nicky Tam's Bar & Bothy, Stirling (3234 / 6075), one of those square perfectly formed bar rooms with a live music theme, the likes of which remind me of central Edinburgh. But where's the cask? One pump hiding at the end, I actually thought it was a cider at first. I have to peer around this bloke, but when he turns around, he's like "Si?" and I'm like "Adam?" What were the chances! Scottish but not local to here, Adam actually met me up near his home when I was staying in Dundee and tipped me off about the pre-emptive Royal Arch in Broughty Ferry, which was a great shout as it made the next GBG. I then randomly saw him two York Beer Festivals ago. He's becoming the Scottish SixTownsMart for fate putting us in the same place at the same time! He's here for this unusual beer, a breakfast stout from Cornwall's Ideal Bay who I'd never heard of before. Sit down Verdant! Wow, even better than the first two pints and they were great. Bar dude is a proper chill legend too. Adam's off to a Dunblane brewery so I say I might see him when I tick Carnoustie in May. Meanwhile, back in real time I reckon that I can whip in a post-emptive half before my train to Alloa.
Three different people, all with their own independent brains, had recommended this next one, just across the road ......
But No. 2 Baker Street, Stirling in a huge comedown on what's come before. Don't get me wrong, a proper buzzy atmosphere if a bit rough around the edges. Bit sticky. Staff who don't really convince, and English standard ales. I have half a Wadworth 6X but it ain't the quality of other recent 6X's down south. And you can't throw 'Locale' at me after that Cornish magnificence! I ask if I can sit at the end of the bench and this toothless lager bloke, a livewire scrappy doo style character. He does the whole "ye cannae sit there mate ..... hahaha, only messin' with you pal" schtick. His teenage daughters, both taller than him, roll their eyes like "Dad you are soooo embarrassing!" He might not have custody of them long term, but he's got them for the day, so his chance to shine. He staggers up to the bar and starts chatting up an innocent woman. The exasperated daughters now have their heads in their hands. Incredible stuff. This is why we go to the pub.
Train to Alloa, famous brewing town of old and a football team with a decent strip. You're getting stung by the Waspies! Oh, and a regular GBG Wetherspoons ......
Retrospective appreciation for just how well kept my pint of Auld Acquaintance was at the Bobbing John, Alloa (3235 / 6076). A Loch Lomond Burns Night special, but having had it the following Thursday in desperately poor condition (something two other #PubMen have also testified to), it feels like its expiry date ended the second you put the Rabbie Burns poetry book back on the shelf, whisky in the jar, and scrape your haggis and leftover neeps and tatties into the bin. Whilst the carpet is a pleasing 8.5/10, Alloa folk just look that bit meaner and granite faced than their Stirling counterparts. One bloke takes a big bite of pizza and then just looks around the room aggressively, pizza half hanging out of his mouth. Trying to look hard, he came across more 'simpleton Labrador'. Worse was to follow in the loos. A group of teenage lads just sitting on the sinks. They are ejected shortly after when a Dad with a toddler grasses them up. Never quite felt 'the love' here!
Wasn't allowed to use a Mudgie voucher though
Further proof that my Scottish stars were aligned came next when I realise I can train to from Alloa to Larbert without need for a change at Stirling ..... not something I'd picked up in the planning stage.
Could I get a seven pub day after the disappointment of 'only' five last time I was up here?
INNNN five is the Station Hotel, Larbert (3236 / 6077), another winner. I was so disappointed by Woburn Sands Station Tavern a couple of months ago, this felt like the pub that should've been. It has one of those atmospheres that you cannot imagine experiencing at any time other than a Saturday afternoon with the football scores coming in - see also British Oak Stirchley, Three Tuns Uxbridge, Ladybird Bromsgrove or anything in Tring. Hull City are limping to an unconvincing home win against Swansea, Daddy BRAPA reports live from the back of the MKM east stand. But it is a jerky man at the bar who actually prods me to inform me that Regan Slater's scored our second mid-serve. We've been so good at winning games we shouldn't this season. I've chosen a pissy but increasingly pleasant bitter pale from Speyside, reclining on a red leather bench like Cleopatra probably used to. Everyone around me is friendly, but being pint five at 3:50pm, it is hard to take it all in.
I decide to err on the side of caution and skip over Falkirk 'Spoons (which pairs well with a regular bus route entry at a place weirdly called Bo'ness) and head back to Edinburgh where I have two ticks to do.
And my train stops at Haymarket, close to one of them. Everything was coming up roses!
Just when I was thinking the day couldn't get any better, we reach our absolute pinnacle. Thomson's Bar, Edinburgh (3237 / 6078) rockets into my top five Ed pubs, possibly top three. Good things come to those who wait .... back in mid September, on that 'difficult' weekend where I didn't have my new GBG but had 'sight' of the new entries, this was a surprise shut pub alert on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Had I zoomed in and read the GBG description, I'd have been it quite clearly says this pub is shut Sun & Mon. There's some delicious carving around the bar, shiny mirrors, and the Jarl just purrs. Perfection. I've had some reet dodge Jarl's this past year which should be punishable by a ten year GBG expulsion, but this is a timely reminder of why it is THE Scottish O.G. (not Willie Donachie v Wales). Glad I start drunkenly waxing lyrical about the pub to the lady on the table next to me, because her son works here. He's the nice lanky dorky one from what I can establish! I ask her views on a shock 7th tick across town despite my increasingly fragile state, and she's practically booking a taxi on my behalf! Was half hoping she said a coffee and sit down in Waverley station would be a better idea. A pub that didn't even need a carpet to feel special.
So although it is listed under 'Edinburgh North' rather than Central, this last pub is a lot closer to Waverley and more importantly, nowhere near Leith where my shit pint quality ratio is about 4 in 5.
Boisterous free-for-all, but a goodie, Cask & Barrel, Edinburgh (3238 / 6079) has a bit more of a 'look at me, I'm relevant, I'm Edinburgh' vibe about its clientele but I'm numb enough to it. Oakham Green Devil probably isn't the beer to go for when you're on pub seven, but my rationale at the time was "I often drink Fullers ESB at this stage of the day, so how hard can it be?" Very. A struggle. A very delicious zingy struggle. Bournemouth are doing well, but no one cares. Did any nice strangers speak to me to keep my near perfect record up today? They could've done. It could've been a four eyed green alien from the Planet McZog and I'd probably not remember. It had been a great day.
I must've made my 7pm train home, and it must've been trouble free, because I have no more photos or garbled notes or vague half recollections.
If Scotland could achieve this type of quality over seven pubs, just imagine what Northumberland / Tyne & Wear could achieve the following Thursday.....
Errrrm, well about that ..... join me next time for the big horrid Yin to this lovely Yang.
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