1st July 2023, and six spanktastic new pubs to review in brief, otherwise it's gonna be bloody Christmas before I get caught up on the blogging and being a 'little behind' (thanks) is starting to get on my nerves.
I've set myself a six line per pub limit, just so it doesn't get too painful for you, my dearest of all readers. You are special. don't forget that. No one else, just you.
Even by Lincolnshire standards, this was a remote bastard to kick off the day, but with Daddy BRAPA at the wheel, anything is achievable .....
They can't get many odd visitors at the Crown & Anchor, Tetney Lock (2557 / 4452) as an army of doughy eyed interested staff stand in a row, desperate to catch a glance of BRAPA in the wild. More emerge from the kitchen to swell the numbers. A super curious bunch, and my 'excitement' for the new crafty Sharp's brew, a sort of tropical Doom Bar, served in a trendy mug straight outta Camden town .... eyeing me like "what WILL he do next". One old dude has bagsied the postage stamp traditional front area, but even in the spartan 'restaurant', this was still a pleasant pub to have a drink in.
Oscar, a big glassware fan, was like 'WTF mannn?'
Our journey takes us south, and ever so slightly west, to the outskirts of Horncastle for pub two.
A timely reminder of the limitations which Lincolnshire struggles against when it comes to GBG entries, Durham Ox, Thimbleby (2558 / 4453) was a turgid trudge. Service was slow as diners took priority, I feel like an inconvenience, and the slowness was compounded when the Ghost Ship needed changing. An ancient accordion and Daddy B's discovery of a pubbier left hand side resembling a fake library promised better things, but then piped music courtesy of Silvana Estrada had my ears wanting to puke themselves inside out, if that's even a thing. Keep it Billy Joel and Rancid, please!
A rare stroke of pub tickers luck next, as I noticed that in the last couple of days, our next pub had revised their opening hours meaning they now open earlier on a Saturday, 2 instead of 4 - huzzah!
And it was far from the 'blink and you'll miss it' Micro I was expecting .....
But if you thought these improved Saturday hours were the sign of a thriving pub, sadly the truth at Old Nick's Tavern, Horncastle ( 2559 / 4454 ) was a empty cavernous place struggling to survive. Old Nick was such a nice bloke, you could only feel for him as he spoke of winter fuel bills going up quicker than a crooked Dudley pub. Sorry, too soon. With vibrant wall art and funky tunes, Daddy BRAPA proclaims that he's struggling to escape from Stevie Wonder at the moment ... surely that shouldn't be too hard to do? Good luck to Old Nick, though I can't help fearing the worst.
Across the road, our other Horncastle pub was very pleasing to the eye if you ignore that man .....
But the King's Head, Horncastle (2560 / 4455) was notable in the early stages for Daddy BRAPA's disappearance! Had Stevie Wonder caught up with him? Had he finally lost patience with being my Lincs pub chauffeur? Or was he just in the car eating cheese and leek flan? He reappears to see me glowing and beaming, that's me during a good pint of Bateman's XXXB. A beer that always gets me silly! I'm waxing lyrical on the soft furnishings and thrumming joy (but remembering poor Old Nick over the road) but he then spoils my fun by pointing out the fake bookcase wallpaper. Cruel Daddy B!
Well, that sign proved prescient
Time to leave the home of Hull City's first manager, the legendary Ambrose Langley, and head to the village of Wragby, situated a little closer to home in a north westerly direction off the A158.
Oi mate, I'm over here!
I'm glad that the Ivy, Wragby (2561 / 4456) was a hazy blur. Cheers XXXB! Cheers 5th pub of day syndrome! What an oddity, can't have just been me surely? Pristine white shirted staff like summat off Betty's Tearooms. Though I'm served by a no nonsense sweatshirt. Leafy. Bondage bog art. A nicely kept pint of Bass. If I'm a pub whisperer, then it was hard to hear what this pub was trying to say to me. 'Spank spank, glug glug, how do you do?' maybe. A carpet of much substance followed, and Batman dressed in 18th century fashion hanging from the wall. I think you should visit, in case I imagined it all.
One last pub then, just a quick drive up the A157. The 'key' pub of the day, with hours of 5-11 Fri & Sat and 12-4 on Sunday if you're lucky, I was delighted to see it open (not that you can tell by the following photo):
'Run by volunteers from the community' is all very worthy, but doesn't always a good pub make (in BRAPA experience), so it is a bonus to find the Heneage Arms, Hainton (2562 / 4457) my favourite pub of a crackin' day. As I try to get an action shot of Daddy B buying the drinks, a gorgeous lady creeps up behind me and says she'll take a photo of us both. You don't get this in rural Wiltshire. More great carpet, a cosy bar but we retire to a back room which I described as smelling like a 'woodland mammal Samuel Pepys'. Cavernous and peaceful, even a random pile of logs did something. But not sure what.
And there we have it, I managed to stick to my six line rule though it took some effort!
Join me on Wednesday or Thursday as we dip our toe into East Sussex.
Oh yes. Toe update - 4 weeks today I did it, Google says they take 4-6 weeks to recover. It is still pointing in a weird direction, but Saturday's trip to Kirkcaldy was probably the least painful toe day yet.
I'm off to virtual Dresden, opening day v Bayern Munich. Uh oh. What can possibly go wrong?
There's more of that soft porn in rural Lincolnshire toilets than in any other county.