Wednesday 10th December 2025
All I've got to show for January 2026 at the time of writing is 11 ticks in the first 16 days, though I'm hoping by the time you read this, Southampton (yesterday) has been semi-productive.
Skinny ticking months cause me feelings of anxiety and guilt. Sitting at home thinking about all those times in life where I've been idle when I could've been ticking.
Why didn't it occur to me to start this quest at a younger age? Just imagine, I could've completed the entire GBG by now.
Rewind to December, a 33 tick month. Seemed modest at the time but I'd snap your hand off for that number come 31st Jan.
Helped by Daddy BRAPA's sense of adventure and positivity. He did some mental maths before declaring "YES, we can achieve your remaining three* East Yorkshire ticks and still make it to Hull for kick off before an evening game".
I left work a bit early, and he did have to keep reminding me to not linger longer than 30 mins per pub, but the plan was executed to such perfection, I had time for a pint or two in Hull as well.
It starts at the Trout Inn, Wansford (3194 / 6035). I'm sensing a community buyout or similar. Echoes of the wildcard newbie in Rudston three GBGs past. Both slightly too smart for their own good, open plan and plain inside. But enough warmth, 7/10 cushions and bench-seating to have us offering ringing endorsements such as:
"Not bad this"
"Yup, pretty decent"
"I can see they've made an effort"
"You'll go to worse pubs in the GBG".
The beer was good, not something you could accuse Rudston of. Six on seemed insane for a lager drinking rural farming fishing community, probably. The 'Werld Gerld' (Wold Gold to you non-Hullites) on reel/real good form. It lacked the charming staff of Rudston though, and we both left as non-plussed as when we'd arrived.
Some ancient local CAMRA by-law in East Yorkshire decrees that any wildcard GBG debutant has to be located close to the Driffield-Bridlington road, so Wansford was in tune with previous years.
Besides, Bridlington also loves a newbie. It has become very much the 'Sheffield' of East Yorkshire in recent years, so many cracking real ale venues.
I would never have believed it when my Brid based Grandma Betty died in BRAPA's debut year 2014, though she did briefly live above former GBG entry the Marine Bar.
Only got one good BRAPA chat with her, and was delighted to learn she knew all about the Lund, South Dalton, Walkington, Millington entries I needed to visit.
Dad drops me off at the front door of Moon Tap, Bridlington (3195 / 6036) and goes to find a parking space. I'm extremely impressed with this one, and not just because the name had me thinking I might be walking into a 'Spoons brewpub, if you could imagine such a thing. This is how to do a modern micro, make it look authentic. Full of leather benches and shiny mirrors. Brid people are so lovely, I'm not surprised that everyone is about 90 years old, immobile, half blind and says 'aye, ey up lad'. It does make me slightly conspicuous though, and I'm delighted when Dad joins me for a half so I can walk him to the bar with the sole intention on taking the photos I missed when buying my pint. Abbeydale Absolution, drinking like a dream, it purred. £3 on Wednesday's too. Dad's cameo is speedy as he necks his half "...just off to sit in the car". Luckily, he tells me where he's parked Then a funny lady wanders over, tells me I've got her favourite seat in the house, indicates I might like to shuffle across for her and her mates, but she sees her second favourite has just come free in the window! But then she keeps waving at me and shouting "are you comfy over there?" so I 'comedy' lie down across the bench. Then one of her male companions jokily admonishes to landlady, gets the tone wrong, so it backfires and gets her back up and words are exchanged! Phew. All this, and I'd only been here 25 mins absolute maximum. In all the mayhem, I forget this pub represents 71% BRAPA GBG completion.
One* East Yorkshire tick to go .... and that leads us out to Hornsea, home of a pottery which had these real life 'tissue birds' which used to scare me to death when I was younger. Might've just been feathery white doves looking back.
I'll take you back to Hallowe'en 2016. I'd barely recovered from (a) a week in Australia and (b) being John Watson's best man, when my next tick was the Stackhouse Bar in Hornsea, very friendly, and apt I thought, cos I'd just caught up on the series 'True Blood'. Vampirey, loved main character Sookie Stackhouse, possibly cos she always took her top off whether the script demanded it or not. Stacked. Anyway, that bar closed down to be replaced by this, Stack Real Ale Cafe, Hornsea (3196 / 6037). 70's decor, packed/stacked out tonight, very ballsy, the folk really make it. Our landlady has real attitude, in a good way, as she huffs n puffs whilst changing the barrel on the incredible Nightjar stout. Gives me chance to chat to some long beardy bar blockers and buy us both a slice of cherry cake which says 'I'm nut free'. Dad's sat on an aeroplane seat, chatting to a lady with a simpleton dog called Molly, recalling how the original Stackhouse had cinema seats (or is it vice-versa?) Anyway, Hornsea loves a good flip-up seat. Dad also tells me how there's two blokes sat outside the gents acting as 'toilet monitors'. I think he's joking until a young lad comes in, tries to use the loo without buying a drink, and is unceremoniously marched to the door. Marvellous. Made me nervous enough to make sure I look 'a few cups deep' when I totter over to the loo a few minutes later.
So there we had it. East Yorkshire completed for another year!!*
There was time for a quick sesh pre-match at the Ship Inn at Hodgson Street where we bumped into our old mate Mark Beefy Bainton for the first time in years. Pub was on the form of its life. I think someone had even put the fire in.
Swift half at Legends Bar/Dugout, and then it was Hullywood 2-0 Hollywood as we beat Wrexham.
Most people said how well we'd played, but to me and Dad, it was more a case of Wrexham not turning up, and I reckon that 'Boro side who thumped us the previous Friday would've still beaten us here. Still, it bodes well for a trip to Laaandan on Saturday for Meewaw (Millwall) away.
*You could technically argue I haven't completed East Yorkshire. Bridlington's Three B's Micropub lists an address of 2 Wellington Road in the 2026 GBG, obviously expecting to have already moved before the new book was published. However, they currently remain at their old address at 2 Marshall Ave (which I have been to). Fellow pub ticker Eddie says the sticking point was water supply issues. So I'm currently counting the tick, but will have to cross it off and return to Brid if they move before September!
Saturday 13th December 2025
Fast forward three days, for a pathetic pub ticking day (two + two pre-emptive 'Spoons), so I thought I was may as well tag it onto this blog.
It started in this above average and deservedly GBG listed 'Spoons, Holland Tringham (3197 / 6038) which Dad declares is the first time he's felt warm and cosy in one! You certainly don't get many 'armchair by the fire' scenarios in Timbo's much maligned chain. A poignant moment as I use my first Mudgie vouchers since the great #Pubman sadly carked it, Salcombe Belgica - a cracking fresh Belgian style pale despite its weird head and probably not a beer Peter would've chosen! But most importantly, unlike 90% of other 'Spoons Christmas beers in 2025, not a sloppy dark brown mess which tastes like the contents of a drip tray that's been farted on. Carpet is a wishy-washy 7/10, didn't we almost have it all Whitney?
Still well before noon, we catch the bus up the road to Norbury which has a flat-roofed 'Spoons called Moon under Water. More rough n ready than Streatham, and just the standard beer range which suggests it'll struggle to get in the GBG. In fact, a bloke who sounded like he was part of Croydon CAMRA selection process wrote to me warning of the strong competition in the area which sounded like code for 'it ain't good enough!' Still, it's another warm place to sit and while some time away, we both quite enjoyed being here.
As the clock ticked past noon, we train it up to Tulse Hill and it was a short walk to today's second, and as it would prove (but I'd have been horrified if you'd told me that the time) final tick.
'Please don't force me to drink Portobello, please don't force me to drink Portobello, please don't force me to drink Portobello,' I'm thinking as we approach the bar at Knowles of Norwood, West Norwood (3198 / 6039). Relief as I see Adnams Ghost Ship alongside their wares! After all, we're wanting to have a bit of a sesh here, as there's nothing else jumping out at me between here and The Den (apart from perhaps a scary lion). Dad's inspired 'light bites' order on the honey thyme feta baked thing with chewy bread made the whole experience more palatable. The place was exactly as I'd imagined in my mind's eye, which is kinda depressing. So London. Open plan, tinny, buggies galore. The Adnams was fine but we hit the #EvilKeg after that, which was actually better.
Game time and a cracking 3-1 win against a playoff rival. I'd later tell Dad that with only two pub ticks, it is just as well we'd won otherwise it would've been a pretty fruitless day from a BRAPA perspective, despite his always excellent company OF COURSE.
Post-match was a palaver. First I second guessed myself and decided to duck out of the Sydenham tick I'd originally planned, seemed wiser to head towards London Bridge and then to my final central tick at Bloomsbury.
The filth then penned us in to a sort of 'holding area', which was stupid, cos you had our fans wanting to get out one way, increasingly angry Meewaw kids wanting to join the train queue the other, so when they finally opened the gate, the atmosphere was a bit tense.
Back at LB, all the Tubes going central were messed up so all we had time to do was the new 'Spoons at London Bridge itself, Sun Wharf, site of the former London Dungeon. It felt like being in a large waiting room, and we just perched in a corridor. Beer was good I think so I reckon more pre-emptive than the Norbury one. But just where was the carpet?
Even Parcel Yard was a trial because with Christmas approaching, two annoying queues had formed and there wasn't anything we could do about it so we stood in opposing queues and kept an eye on the other. Dad's made it first, saving me £14!
We got a corridor seat. Dad wondered if Diana Ross and Phil Collins were the same person. A version of 'Santa Claus is Comin' to Town' was SO bad that someone complained and the staff cut it short, and a Wolves fan (away to Arsenal in under an hour) wandered around looking tense.
The train home was thankfully uneventful.
Thanks for reading. I'll be back tomorrow night for tales of my final #ThirstyThursday before Christmas. I'm catching up, only 27 pubs behind at the time of writing (though it'll be more like 30/31 when you read this).
Keep it pub, Si
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