BRAPA is ..... BLUE SKY DRINKING WITH THE STEEPLE PEOPLE (Northallerton /Darlo Special)
Thursday 21st November 2024
Not a cloud in the bluest of blue skies on the iciest of icy mornings as I trundle up the line to Northallerton for one of my easier #ThirstyThursdays of the season.
Brilliant sunshine but still minus 3C, autumn was gone, winter was here, and no mistake.
The BlueSky platform?
It was apt, today marks my first foray onto the BlueSky platform in a bid to leave the TwXtter binfire of never ending Temu ads, blue tick wankers, Musky cronies and scantily clad women from Miami claiming to 'like' the fact I've had a Bass in a gastro pub in rural Leicestershire.
For now though, I'll be cross-posting with the help of an App called Buffer. Only problem, photo upload is terrible.
I race through Northallerton to reach the bus stop on time, only to find (a) the bus is delayed and (b) it was going back past the station anyway. D'oh! Oh well, good exercise. I had a lovely chat with an elderly lady who's late husband was a regular GBG user. Always the dead 'uns innit?
And I'm sure the Buck Inn behind me was a decrepit shut pub last time I was here, but now a shiny Wetherspoons. I made a mental note for later #EverySpoonsIsPreemptiveDontYouKnow
The bus to Ainderby Steeple may've been delayed, but I still had five minutes before opening so I sat in the churchyard considering steeple let-downs and saying hi to my new Blue Skyers.
The pub was probably open on time, but I gave it til 12:05 considering my bus back wasn't due back within the next 27.5 minutes!
Wellington Heifer, Ainderby Steeple (2836 / 5319)
Open 12-2 primarily for retired lunchers, I throw our host by only wanting a drink. But he's a professional chap who has the demeanour of one who has been pulled through a tight sparkler. He recovers his composure, and fittingly pulls me an immaculate Tim Taylor Landlord. "Was minus 9 overnight here!" he brags when I try complaining about the icy air in York this morning. He points me towards a green armchair in the same side room as a bubbling fire and 8/10 carpet. The bar is a beautiful carved wood too. But looking around, it is the only designated drinker seat in the entire gaff. We co-exist in near silence, punctuated by my occasional approving 'mmmm's' as I take a gulp of quality TTL. But his restlessness is finally abated about 12:30pm when the first herd of retired nosebaggers file in, and he's in his element now, doling out menus, offering water for the table. My cue to leave. First-pub-of-the-day's are always an interesting experience even when nothing happens!
The bus back is similarly chilled out as the one coming, deciding to follow its own mental timetable rather than abide any nonsense printed on bus stops or websites #PunkRockBussing
I've learnt my lesson from earlier and hop off in the centre of Northallerton. I have in my mind that the pub is called the Fleece, but when it looks too familiar, I pull out my GBG in the street and double check. Oh yes, Fleece was last year's entry. That was almost an embarrassing revisit!
Mason's Arms, Northallerton (2837 / 5320)
I wasn't prepared for the intimacy and succession of 'aye's' , 'howay's' and 'haway's' that I received at close quarters inside this lively booze-hole, paired with a dollop of extreme eye contact. Northallerton has joined the ranks of towns whom insist on putting a new pub in every GBG. No problem for this York resident, but I know it is painful when Falmouth does it so I can feel your pain, soft southern bastard tickers. I do respect CAMRAs who include a one beer entry, providing the beer quality is up to scratch, and this Wainwright Gold certainly is, although a fellow ticker (they call him Jim) came here two weeks later and had to return his bad pint. I wonder if he went onto the keg Magnet, the other option that was exciting me? No surprise to see a Blind Sooty in a pub like this, but his neck chain and 'tache had him pitched somewhere between 80's Soho and 30's Germany. A Blind Sooty says a lot about a pub's clientele.
Another excellent bar frontage too
Quick trip to new 'Spoons Buck Inn, it is a bit too 'clean' if you know what I mean, has an annoying rooflight, and the beer is sub-par. But at least I manage to discourage people from queuing and get the staff to admit it is a bloody annoying trait. Surely highly pre-emptive though, especially in churn friendly Northallers.
Time to head north one stop to Darlington, which handily had two new ticks for BRAPA. I should've savoured the ease of today more at the time, when I consider how gruelling my two recent Chester trips have been!
Slight wait for the train so BRAPA snack of the moment, Gala Pie, was enjoyed ......
I exit Darlo station correctly for the first time in my last six attempts, like outta the front where Hogan's (R.I.P. .... sort of) used to be.
Sharp right down a long cobbled street to a bus stop. I had no right to get it but a one minute delay, strange simpleton lass and handy step cut-through meant I achieve it, and soon I'm in the district of Cockerton village for our penultimate tick ......
Pub of the day is Travellers Rest, Darlington (2838 / 5321), so much 'salt of the earth', your blood pressure is dangerously high and the defib is on standby. Vaguely Edwardian heritage, it is an imposing window to the past that shivers when the traffic whizzes around the bend. Again, I'm close to going for Keg Magnet just for the shits 'n giggles, probably literally. But White Rat is just about the best pale in the world (don't @ me, whatever that means) and it drinks rodenthrallingly. The bar blockers are of the lager loving hi-vis / up since 6am tarmacking roads variety. Each one has a chesty cough of slightly different pitch. Indie the dog keeps escaping her owners and going for a wander towards more affectionate pubbers, she just wants to be loved! Us pub tickers all know that feeling.
Back in Darlo town centre for our final tick .....
A serious come down from the Travellers, I am first customer of the day inside Vesuvio, Darlington (2839 / 5322) and our bar dude is sitting there alone in the freezing cold, cosied up to the nines in beanie hat, mittens and coat. You think a place named after a volcano would be warm! In fact, when I ask for a cask beer, he tells me he's just got to turn the gas on almost as an afterthought (I never know what that means but it seems to get the handpumps working). A few quirky local waistcoated characters appear behind me, looking like 80's snooker greats, company for our chilly barman. The beer is well kept but very odd. Wadworth Swordfish is rum infused, I can't argue that the rum is very 'present', but not sure rum is beer's perfect bedfellow! But this is a wine bar, and red wine seems to be the specialty. Remember my 2020/21 vehicle #WWWSI (Wine, Western & Wotsits, staying in)? Yes? Your poor buggers. No? Give it an online search. Hours of fun. Prediction time : this place won't feature (in the same guise at least) in my final GBG greening circa 2044.
I DID consider buying a bottle for the journey home to York, but with no Wotsits or Western to watch or obscure 1960's mixtape to listen to, it didn't seem right. So I popped into a lively York Tap instead. Always decent if you put a peg on your nose.
And there we have it! I hope to be back on 'Mad / Black Eye Friday' to tell you about a 'day of two halves' in That London.
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