I can't really justify giving my undivided attention to Qatar (the MK Dons of World Cup football) versus Switzerland (the Preston North End of World Cup football) so I've got it on in the background on mute with Slim Cessna's Auto Club's peculiar grower of a 2024 album on.
Anyway, here we are. The first four pubs in our Scottish finale. It should be all eight, but the truth is I've been fragile all day following Poppleton Beer Festival last night, and didn't really surface until 1pm for a few gentle chores!
I'll be looking to see if my 'red dot theory' holds any weight for these last eight. i.e. I'd expect them to be GBG regulars being the best of the bunch, but we'll see!
'Wot, no cask?' I'm panicking, having walked to the edge of town for this student-friendly boozer which feels simultaneously bar and pub. Bougie on the one hand, traditionally rooted one room Scot on the other. Our bald ginger wizard captaining the ship explains that because he's just opened (4pm), he's pulling two Orkney's through as we speak if I have the patience to wait. 'All the time in the world mate' I lie, and soon a perfect Man O' Hoy is mine. The music is definitely a choice, 'Now That's What I Call Jungle Drums volume 27' by the sounds of it. A large group of student ladz soon descends. Not one ale pulled for any of them, tsk. They're all a bit Jay Inbetweeners "corrr, I was porking some vag last night I tell ya lads" but when a gentle smooth red faced giant appears and is introduced to the majority of them for the first time, half are very welcoming whilst the other half roll their eyes behind his back. I hope they were aware big brother was watching and their behaviour is now immortalised in blog form. In summary, an ace pub for a non red-dotter and I'd like to say a first GBG appearance since 1984 but I don't suspect that's true.
That Big Red T and previous experiences south of Aberdeen (Stonehaven and Gourdon) had my expectations suitably lowered to 'should be decent but don't expect too much' levels. But colour me impressed. Good beer helps of course, and Fierce (who I'm rapidly growing to love) + Vocation 'collab' called Scottish Export kicked me in the guts in the best way possible. Beer of the holiday contender, served by a chatty Latvian. I impressed her by guessing she was from Riga, but only because it is the only Latvian place I've heard of. The pub is a delicious coastal snoozer full of dark wood panelling and is unpretentious to a fault. Behind some frosted glass in an adjoining room, a group of old dears are singing. One pops into the bar for some gin and I tell her it beats George Orwell's jungle drums and she seems pleased by that. Annoyingly, my bus never shows (Bank Holiday Monday innit?) though whilst waiting, Sister BRAPA sends me a voice note, asking me to identify a tune she's got stuck in her head. Grandstand. Glad I could help. Back at the pub with my tail between my legs, our fave Latvian shows a disturbing lack of sympathy and says 'oh well you'll just have to have another Export' and a bar blocker with three teeth and impossible accent chats BRAPA, but he can't quite get his head around the concept and I have to keep repeating myself! Next bus arrives trouble free.
Frustrating that my furthest point west on the fruitful 201 bus route from Aberdeen didn't open until 3pm, because ideally (especially considering MY bladder) I'd have started here and gently wound my way back to the 'deen through Ballater, Aboyne and Banchory. But pub ticking is rarely linear, and I considered skipping this one all together, but then thought 'nah, I'll not get many better chances'. I arrive 2:40pm, and dog couple above ask a square bloke unloading boxes from his car an annoying tourist question which I can't quite hear. I take a chance on him being connected to the pub , so go over for a chat, and he says he's the main man and he'll open early for me, hooray! "I'm only pottering about anyway" he'd said. A fascinating gent, classic dour Scot at times, homely welcoming and jolly at others. Liked him. Fantastic place, smells like a Grade II Heritage classic, has that thick inner wall coolness and is pleasingly wet-led basic. The beer is superb, and he nicks my GBG to check for non-existent Thurso entries, putting his tube of Savlon in it to hold the page. Forgets to give me it back so I have to lean across bar, feet off the ground, to retrieve it! Two blokes arrive, he's equally friendly with them, but an awkward moment as one doesn't relish revealing Thai bride details and suggests he's been a bit nosey! Own it mate, be proud! Our hero then disappears into his office for ages, but I need to leave, but need to thank him and say goodbye, so I hang around, but when he reappears, he's all like 'oh you still here mate, whatever?!' Red dotter, yes it is!
Another red dotter to end on, and more bank holiday Monday transport shenanigans mean I was forced to neck TWO pints in quick time. But thankfully, this place was such a class act, presided over by the smartly dressed elderly Stewart who has worked here for centuries and is such a warm soul, what a people person! Reckons he's had a hand in the ale too, Voar by Swanney. More like 'Phwoar', 5* quality. Enjoyed in plush loungey surroundings, a bit of food going down but it ain't even remotely jarring. 'Such a shame I have to rush off so soon' I lament, but a rare Inverurie (Inverarie?) bus is on the horizon. Except it isn't! I just wish the bus company's website made it clear it wasn't running today. So I come back to regroup and buy another Voar. Ain't the worst outcome! I ask Stewart if I knows a local taxi number. OF COURSE he does! Takes it upon himself to ring his friendly taxi driver mate Bob for me, cos that's the kind of chap he is. I can hear the conversation on loudspeaker. "I'm less than 10 mins away if that's any good?" says Bob. Stewart glances over at me. "Oh yes, I'm SURE he can drink his pint in that time!" Oh I can, can I? #ScottishDrinkingExpectations.
So there we go. MK Dons 0-1 PNE as we speak. Do I nap now, wake up to cheer on Haiti/Scotland, and try and get a few more hours before a rare Sunday BRAP, or give it a miss altogether? Decisions decisions.
Thanks for reading, I'll be back Monday night after a trip to the dentist's chair for our top 4.
Keep it pub, Si
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