BRAPA is ... AS SHOREHAM AS I'LL EVER BE : WEST SUSSEX PT. 6/7

Monday 5th May 2025

I say it every year ".....I'm not ticking on a Bank Holiday Monday, not worth it mate!" And fail.

Not only is public transport unreliable, but BRAPA history tells me that 76.77% of GBG publicans choose to observe Monday hours rather than Sunday hours, and you all know how skinny Monday pub opening hours are in the year of our lord 2025.

But this week, I'm southern and seasidey and I can probably get away with it. As long as I check all opening hours and bus times twice, and don't try to be too clever.

So I decide to do my only 'difficult one first, which despite its proximity to Chi (as us locals called Chichester - thanks Tim Thomas!), you could say this was one pub I was 'itching' for.....

Treating the darker bit as a pavement, so there

A bus towards the 'Witterings', and then a two mile walk to a pretty coastal hot spot. I considered doing it by foot ferry from Bosham, but the walk from Bosham proper to the ferry looked even longer than this route.

Why do CAMRA make pub ticking so hard? Just one year of all 4,500 on train routes in towns and cities is all I ask.

Pleased to see they are bucking the trend and observing Sunday (11am) hours rather than Monday (noon) hours at the Ship, Itchenor (3116 / 5601) but the whole thing's a bit of a let down in my eyes. I'd perhaps unreasonably been expecting some ramshackle scurvy jolly olde roving tar inne, but it stinks of South East London. Despite my early arrival, and hard working staff, I have to wait at the bar whilst a Scooby Doo style magical mystery tour van load of young yuppies order everything on the menu. NO VELMA, GET YOUR OWN STRAW! I'll admit you CAN admire the old wood panelling and the like, squinting to remember the pub of yore, but it could be a dining Fullers pub in SE3 if truth be told. On the plus side, the Red Squirrel beer is super fresh, probably sourced from blended 'taste the difference' red squirrels they've caught this morning. Eff this, I'm booking a taxi, it is raining, the bus times are bollocks, I'd have another 40 min walk just to reach them, and I don't fancy nursing another one here, they are already running out of space for people to sit and the big group of blouses to my left are quite annoying.

A costly taxi, but it sets me up for the entire day so in my eyes, worth it.

Up next, Felpham, which yesterday's 'Curious Orange Lady of Bognor' told me is pronounced Felfum, so now we know .....

Old AND peculiar, but in a quite good way, George, Felpham (3117 / 5602) gives me that perilous choice of a left or right turn into an unknown room. I select right and am plunged into an attractive but empty (and quite chilly) room with red benches and a carpet that wouldn't be out of place in a Dumfries & Galloway hotel bar. But where are the staff? At the other side, that's where. I give them (two old ladies) a wave. "Won't be long!" cries one, emotion rising in her voice. Sounds like it is busy round t'other side and one bloke has upset her with his impatience. They come over to my side and she receives a pep talk from her colleague ... "Don't rush, you can only serve one person at a time, he'll just have to wait!" I chip in that there's no pressure from me / I have all the time in the world etc. cos I'm nice like that. Usually. The two random ales are by Goldmark, who sound like they should make milk or high end stationery in the 1980's. I finally get served, the beer is decent, and absolutely nothing else happens.

A couple of streets down, Felpham #2 was incoming .....

The feel good factor is off the scale at Fox Inn, Felpham (3118 / 5603), one of the week's stronger pubs. Nowt wrong with the George, but this was a significant step up. Room temperature the first thing to hit me. Ambient. So Palmer's, I thought I'd momentarily teleported to Dorset. There's some food going on, but this is 100% yer village local. Barman worries he's served me before a regular by mistake. "Oh no, he was most certainly before me!" cries the man theatrically giving me a tummy rub. Could've almost been Michael Ball, who according to the table next to me is lovely and used to come in with a small lady they can't remember, they probably meant Cathy McGow-ow-ow-an who I only know from a Generation X song. The Colmers ale is great but I really should of gone for Tally Ho, so I could've made a 'Ready Steady Go Tally Ho' joke which you'd have all adored. Then two ladies have a heartfelt chat about scattering some ashes, but probably not in here, I do a bit of random smiling and all is good. And as an epilogue, owner Charlie messaged me on X next day to say he's glad I enjoyed my visit. A pub that cares,

So three pubs to go, and as I said earlier, you can't be too outlandish on a Bank Holiday Monday, so I settled for Shoreham-by-Sea. Three ticks and regular trains.

It involved some rushed 'looking up of opening hours', because in my holiday planning, I never thought I'd stray this far east. Imagining more that I'd pair Shoreham with any remaining Brighton & Hove ticks. But all look open, so we're good to go.

Raining again, quite heavily now, so I rush into the micropub first ......

It is random pot-luck as to whether pubs on this stretch of south coast ''get it' when it comes to the true values of a micropub, and when I say 'it', I mean the welcome afforded to one time visitors. Go in any Thanet micropub, any Derbyshire/Notts border micropub, you're welcomed with open arms. It's the Butchers Arms Herne Hillier way. But it hasn't translated countrywide. 'Spoons staff are often chattier these days (& punters definitely are but there's other reasons for that!) Needless to say, Piston Broke, Shoreham-by-Sea (3119 / 5604) didn't have 'it', or I wouldn't be ranting on this tangent. Wasn't shit, in fact they were trying to embrace this typically wet bank holiday with a live band setting up. I took one of the comfy racing car seats (ahh, Piston Broke, NOW I geddit!) opposite, and supped a delicious but deadly pint of ESB by 360 degrees. Straight from the barrel, it holds me in a chokehold. So all the locals meander in like Halifax bears, are greeted warmly, hugs n handshakes all round, but nowt but suspicious glances thrown my way, though I suppose my Hulk Hogan headwear (why I'm in a chokehold?) didn't help! They need me to keep moving my legs so they could get in the little broom cupboard next to me where the band equipment, Andy Crane and Ed the Duck were located. You think that could've led to some communication. The band faff for so long, Guns n Roses-esque festival levels (plus the singer and guitarist seem to be meeting for the first time), I manage to finish my ESB before they start .... relief because I hate walking out during a live performance.

G'wan Dennis lad, you can pot this!

As I approach the next pub, I see a sign saying 'Beer Festival', uh oh .....

Contrary to 'popular' opinion, the sight of a beer festival on a day you're trying to tick a pub is a nightmare, and a better ticker than me (his name is RetiredMartin) would agree. You don't want to be swarmed with pink gin drinking twerps with balloon animals on their heads, toddler on one arm, hot dog in the other, mustard dripping down their arm. You wanna see the pub Cromwellesque, warts 'n all. But fear not, Duke of Wellington, Shoreham-by-Sea (3120 / 5605) sets the right tone. In fact, it just felt like a pub with exciting beers on, live folky music hidden in the back room and a small cider bar in the (empty) garden / patio area. Just the right amount of people too. After exploring outside and politely declining a 10% perry taster, I look up to see a sign that says 'UFO's Dwell on Tin Keg'. Huh? Oh, it is an anagram of the pub name. Back inside, I perch at an old fashioned gaming table before swooping in for a corner seat. The locals look put out, but I smile and do a big comedy shrug, so they come and join me anyway. A reformed hippie tells me about his adventures on the Northumbrian coast and tells me to 'never give up' which was nice, it seems reformed hippie's have a good work ethic. Best pub in Shoreham? I'd be surprised if not.

One to go then ... closest to the station, I always like to work my way back inwards ....

Wow, quite the change of pace at the Buckingham Arms, Shoreham-by-Sea (3120 / 5605). You could say 'after the lord mayor's show', but I can take bleak joy in the gloomy open plan atmosphere. Lager drinkers are dotted around the bar at almost safe levels of social distancing. They communicate in monosyllables. I felt quite conspicuous on arrival, which I think was the 'tonal shift' from our last pub, though my arrival didn't even spark a half turn of a head. The Hopback Summer Lightning is unsurprisingly warm, and has a strange smell, but once I get used to it, I start enjoying it, which surprises me! And the same could be said of the whole pub, the longer I'm here, the happier I am. On the way back from the loo, one guy even says 'Hmoite' which I think is monosyllable for 'hi mate'. Now I wonder if this is a GBG regular or a typically 2025 Wildcard entry. I'd suspect the latter.

There we have it. Another six pub day done, and I'd love to be able to finish off this Sussex blogging tomorrow evening so I can bang out my month ender (ooh matron!) on Sunday. We'll see how it goes.

Keep on pubbing, Si