BRAPA in .... WESTON-SUPER-MARE, WOKING NIGHTMARE (PART 7/9)

Monday 22nd June 2026

Immunity shot. Water. You can tell we've reached day seven

Is he still writing about bloody Somerset? Well yes I am.

WSM felt less of a scrote hole this Monday morning than it had on Saturday afternoon.

Although any cool coastal breeze I'd been praying to take the edge off this heatwave™ is negligible.

Topless hairy leather skin types looking like human crocodile handbags were milling around the 'Spoons entrance, a queue stretching back from bar to front door. The punters are old enough to know better, the staff are far too young to care. 78% GBG completion wasn't coming easy. I try skirting around the idiots and leaning on the far end of the bar .... "Nice 'n easy Trig". The defiant stares tell me I'm not getting served any time soon. Okay, new tactic .... up the staircase, I'll sit down and order off the App. But no need, there's a bar up here too, hooray! Sweaty barmaid complains that a medical issue involving weak arm muscles make pulling cask beer a challenge. It's a fresh one on too (double hooray) so needs pulling through. Despite serving me, she directs all this chat to an old regular instead. Tsk. Cabot Circus Hotel, Weston-super-Mare (3510 / 6300), nearly forgot to say. I stare out to sea, it beats elderly sunburnt flesh.

Despite the increased heat inland, 'tis still a relief to escape the seafront hustle, our next tick tucked in amongst the terraced side streets .....

Yesterday's hero, Martyn the FamilyRug hadn't enjoyed this one but I did, and that's all that matters innit? Regency, Weston-super-Mare (3511 / 6301) screams backstreet bastard. A motley collection of dudes with facial disfigurements, eye-patches and seventies hairstyles growl south western vowels. Seems remarkable when our host, a straggly Matt Crooks, makes reference to Neil Young's 'Harvest' and none of them have heard of it, leading me to save the poor lad's blushes. A Mummy BRAPA favourite no less. I'm not blindly trusting cask in this climate, so need reassurance it is holding up ok. The Tim Taylor Landlord is just the right side of marginal. As I admire the flickering fruit machines and red spongy carpet and consider a £3 filled bap, the loudest bloke can't believe Cape Verde even have a football team because folk only ever holiday there to get food poisoning.

My decision to hold off on 4/7 WSM ticks until today was bearing fruits.

Even in cool weather, I reckon the majority of Somerset ticks on a Monday daytime are well nigh impossible - by which I mean closed.

Our next pub just a street or two away is very open .....

A bright and breezy little funkster, there's a band setting up in the courtyard with an ambitious sense of urgency. They have northern eyes so perhaps they've been sold WSM as an all year round Edinburgh Fringe. Brit Bar, Weston-super-Mare (3512 / 6302) is decent if you ignore the unsuitable seating, your feet will be left dangling. Ghost Mudgie is appalled. Our second straggly haired host convinces me that the Honey Pale is cool & fresh, and so it proves, and I'm given a loyalty card called 'Britcoin' (groan!) which I immediately palm off onto Colin Jnr. as he has more chance of returning. Michael Hordern's Jacob Marley is skeptical about a tax rebate tale, and much like the honey, there's a 'buzz' (thanks!) about the atmosphere - rare for a Monday daytime bar. Maybe the band will draw the punters in after all, but I couldn't afford to hang around to find out.

One to go in WSM .....

A non-descript soulless micropub that'd make even Worthing blush but what a nice host at Fork 'n' Ale, Weston-super-Mare (3513 / 6303). I guess a baldie was inevitable after our straggly hirsute happenings, but his lustrous beard more than makes up for it. My warm weather beer interrogation creates the illusion of me as a beer nut who understands how it all works when in fact we all know that brewing is an arcane process conducted by ancient mystics, geeks, lab rats and demi Gods. He points to various fans scattered around the bar, bemoaning his lack of deep cellar and says he's doing 'what he can'. No surprise, my Miami Peach is a warm fuzzy struggle. Tells me he's a lightweight who enjoys Tim Taylor Landlord. Not sure I've spoken about beer for a full 25 mins before, but I got away with it. My skin glowing a strange shade of deep pink by now, 'twas time to go.

Train ain't due for a bit, so I popped into this pub called the Duke of Oxford because it had been in many recent Beer Guides and had 3* (top) CAMRA beer scores on their website .....

.... but I've no idea why. A food hole, my half was utter dross and as chatty as the Brummie barmaid was, far too easily distracted. Serving my slop in a Cruzcampo glass was a choice.

So I took a train to somewhere called A. Burnham All-at-Sea, and with the mercury now pushing 33 degrees, I wilted against a dirty wall before a bus FINALLY appeared ..... this was my reward ....

One of those unexpected experiences that defy all BRAPA logic, I had an unforgettable hour or so in Crossways Inn, West Huntspill (3514 / 6304) , a boisterous local roadside hive. It started normally enough. The main drama was popping a satisfying bubble on top of my Glastonbury Best. Their cellars must be deep here, Glasto ales ain't my faves but this was quality droppage. Malty and tough as old boots, much like staff and clientele. I'd secreted myself in a chunky settle, partly because of the rowdiness. But I don't hide for long, I'm soon after a WiFi password. But their coverage is intermittent (i.e. shit). Buses aren't forthcoming. And neither is Uber, who I'm told are good up until 'school run' time, and then they disappear! I'm given a local number but as I wander outside to improve my chances of a signal, I'm astonished to learn the heavens have opened. BOOM! Fork lightning, torrential rain. "This'll freshen the air up" I tell a smoker in a mucky Pink Floyd top. I'd be wrong. I manage to get through to some sketchy dude called Abul, I can barely hear him but I think he said "25 minutes". Staff and locals are intrigued to hear how I've got on, it's that type of boozer. I'm just giving them the positive update when CRASH! Lightning knocks the power out, stopping me mid-flow as the pub is plunged into darkness, but only for a few seconds. Someone tries to buy me a pint, then I stand back in the doorway with a curious gang and take a video you can see on X/Bluesky. The locals think they've seen my taxi but it is an H&M van, I'm looking for B&H. "You can travel in the back of his van" jokes one. "LOOK AT THIS RAIN JESUS CHRIST!" I cry. "BLESS YOU MY CHILD" replies local. Then a lady says she's off for a wee and I say 'ohhhh me too' , more laughter. Not sure why. I must do more videos. An Abul underling arrives, just as the rain is stopping. It had been fun.

Final pub of the day then ......

The first door is open, so I'm in the porch / lobby resting my head against local coats and scarves, but I can't seem to get inside the inner door .....

SHUT PUB ALERT!

I wave through the glass, a smiling woman tells me they don't open on Monday's AT ALL. Then disappears before I can complain, for this was totally at odds with Google Maps, Facebook & CAMRA. Unlike the Star in Watchet, not my fault.

The only consolation is that there is a nicely timed Taunton bus approaching in the next few mins to whizz me back for food / World Cup games earlier than expected.

There was a farcical little postscript to this particular 'shut pub alert'.

Firstly, on the same evening back in Taunton with my food, Wiggy of Oxford Utd supporting fame says he's double checked the three sources and agrees that everything suggests Monday evening opening. I reply along the lines of 'thanks, vindicated, glad I'm not going mad!'

But in my first pub the following day, I get a message from Coxy of Hertfordshire Chelsea fame with a screengrab from Google showing it as closed Monday! Fuming! I tell him with Wiggy as my witness, it didn't look like this yesterday and the pub MUST have sneakily updated it overnight.

But it later transpires that one of my well meaning followers, Rockin' Rich of Harrogate L**ds Utd fame, submitted an amendment to Google on my behalf! But if you look, the previously more nuanced Tue-Sun hours have now all been reset to show 8am-midnight which is wronger than before.

I've checked today, they've been updated further to something that could be 100% correct. I put a big angry cross through it in the GBG, as I knew I wouldn't be attempting it again this year, just to make me feel better! And I hope it gets dropped.

Pubs have cleaned up their act last few years with regards unreliable hours, but when it does happen, there's nothing more annoying as a ticker.

Occupational hazard? Never mind, keep it pub (if your pub is open!)

Si