Insane that a pub this large could make me feel so hemmed in, so stifled, so trapped, but that is what happened during a miserable half an hour in the Ram, Brandon (2534 / 4429) which despite not treating me badly in any way, I found downright detestable from the word go. The problems start as a group of ten young hoons arrive at the same time as me, but I do well to get in at the bar first. Problem is, the ale I've ordered has just gone off and the barmaid insists on changing the barrel. Good of her, I'll admit, but I'd rather have had something else. Because despite the lead hoon's attempt at 'cheerful bantz', it is pretty obvious he's becoming impatient. And although the barmaid does a great job of beersplaining how changing a cask barrel can't be rushed and needs pulling through, I think the pressure still got to her a bit because it didn't taste like it'd been pulled through enough. I take a window seat at the bar, today's close muggy atmosphere continues, flies circle the room. An old lady who looks the friendliest asks for a mop and bucket. For what I'm not sure but it didn't sound pretty. You know what they say about muscles, if you don't use them, they cease up, and after years of south eastern misery, she's physically unable to move her face to return to my smile. Left, right and front, no matter where I look, there's someone directly in my eyeline glancing back at me. I feel like a loser King in a game of chess, about to be check-mated! The hoon lads have taken their 10 lagers outside to a raised area of picnic benches. I'd sit at the end, away from them, couldn't be any worse than in here and there might be a breeze, but none of the benches actually have seats, or at least they are self-assembly and no way I'm going to struggle in front of these lads! And I can't even look out of the window now, because two tattooed smokers in tracksuits have blocked out any light, and are giving me the beady eye from behind, so to speak. I know I call myself @StymieSi but this level of stymification was ridiculous, I couldn't wait to set myself free!
Finally time to get myself to Thetford, and get checked in. The most beautiful accommodation I've ever stayed in for BRAPA, and not hugely more expensive than a Premier Inn or Travelodge. The sky had turned very dark, and you could just tell the muggy conditions were going to give way to a giant monsoon thunderstorm ......
Tesco was a three minute walk, so hoping the rain would hold off, I rushed to do a weekly food shop, unpacked, re-packed a smaller BRAPA bag, don't forget Colin, and headed out towards tonight's sixth and final tick just around the corner, the rain spitting ominously just as I walked up the path .....
One of my favourite pubs of the entire week, Black Horse Thetford (2535 / 4430) was just a little bit brilliant at everything it did. Having not really enjoyed a pint since way back in the Wonky Donkey, today's first pub, I certainly didn't take a well kept Nethergate Venture for granted, expertly pulled by a barmaid on her first day, though you'd never have known from her general aura and quiet way she bossed it. There's a good selection and although the locals are gathered around the pumps, they were too nice to be described as bar blocking scumbags, I was more likely to stroke them on the top of their shiny baldie heads when I say "I'll have this ale for starters" and they reply "good lad!". You could tell we were on the border of both Cambs and Suffolk because this was Norfolk at its friendliest. The epitome of a local, and guv'nor Terry sets the tone, one of the best. The carpet is easily an 9/10, there's darts, jukeboxes and old photos. An interesting Spurs and Wolves supporting theme dominate, sort of the antithesis to my Twitter where everyone supports Arsenal or West Brom. When I do 'BRAPA's Alternative Top 100 Pubs : the ones the guide books don't tell you about', (which I'm working on for the 10th anniversary celebrations next April) expect stuff like this to be in it. Real living breathing well run boozers. I settle down to watch a bit of Glasto(nbury) whilst proclaiming I'm a harsh punk. Of course I stay for another, Wolf Lupus Lupus this time. And decide I'll make this my local, every evening for the rest of my holiday. Did I? Watch this space.
Fast forward to Sunday, the rains hadn't been as spectacular as I'd hoped and luckily I'd had an industrial strength fan in my bedroom cos I was melting in the night.
The sun was out again as I enjoyed an interesting breakfast, full of optimism for day two which promised to be the most exciting of my holiday.
Yes, Twitter legend Steve Gray had kindly agreed to drive me around a handful of very difficult to get to NE Suffolk outliers. What a great bloke, BRAPA award incoming ....
I took a train to Norwich, walked to the bus station, avoiding a religious nutter, waited for ages, and then hopped on a delayed bus to the cute as a button town of Beccles which boasts 3 GBG ticks .... but they'd have to wait for ow.
Finding Steve was tricky as our meeting point, Iceland, had controversially shut down, and as I waited, a kind old man asked if I wanted to wait in his garden! But thankfully, Steve arrived just in the nick of time, and off we set. He had a pub mascot too, 'Bunny' from 1970's Venice, always nice for Colin to make friends .....
The first of four great village pubs, and the final one in tonight's blog, was here, but Steve left me speechless (a rare feat) when we leave the car and trudge across the gravelled carpark for the inaugural photo when he asks "have you been here before, then?" and seems surprised when I haven't! Like 'what? No, why, how, what, how!' Imagine going to the same pub twice. I could never(!)
Totally different style of pub and atmosphere from the Black Horse in Thetford the previous evening, but I immediately fell in love with the Star Inn, Wenhaston (2536 / 4431) with that same joyous leap of the BRAPA heart - I think along with Neighbours, punk rock and very occasionally Hull City, nothing in the world makes me happier than a quality pub. This had the farmhouse, vintage ye olde village stores vibe down to a tee. The quirky decor could be a bit 'much' in some small spaces, but 'it works really really well' here. Ah, Linda Barker, what happened to her? Perfectly formed, square, unassuming, quietly spectacular (the Star, not Linda). Hard to do justice, you really need to go. Get Steve to drive you. He might charge, cos you are probably less relevant than me. The staff are fantastic, landlady seems to be saying she's from York although I never get chance to press her on the issue, or draw blood to see if she bleeds pure Viking like me, because the moment we sit down, glorious pint of Crouch Vale Mandarina Bavaria in hand, the place quickly floods with people, like all the best pubs do moments after opening time. There's little tubs of snacks on the bar too, free presumably, but I didn't swoop in early so missed my chance! Schoolboy error. Steve tells the barmaid our agenda for today, and her mother in law works at one of the other pubs so I have to remember to pass on a message. Best avoid any ESB shenanigans too early! What a way to start, could our next pubs rise to the challenge?
Back same time tomorrow, take care, thanks for reading etc. etc.
Si
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