Saturday 28th October 2023, 10:52am
With my train back to York due out of New Street at 5pm prompt, I decided to keep it strictly Birmingham for the final of this epic 4-dayer. Strictly Birmingham? I'd watch it.
Having done all my City Centre ticks, I had to travel out to the 'burbs, but a glut of Wetherspoons and decent transport links meant I could get off to a swift start.
Black Horse, Northfield (2497 / 4655)
This imposing heritage 'Spoons classic was so mock Tudor, it may as well have told Henry VIII to his face that he's a very fat man with a small willy. My pint of Quiet Shadows by the normally brilliant Fyne tastes like sour tap water shitted up by a stupid Scottish cow (follow me on Untappd as StymieSi for similar reviews) but it isn't all doom and gloom bar, as camera shy Brummie Chris and confident Irish Ernie invade my table, because they love the craftsmanship on 'Naughty Little Cousin Pumpy' so much. Shout out to his creator, Sarah Morgans, whoop whoop. A whisky and an Old Rosie each, at 11am. #PubMen They send me off to explore, so I say farewell, lovely chaps, and leave the pub via a surprise bowling green.
I nearly miss my bus stop in a nearby suburb called Kings Norton because two gloomy Birmingham City fans find out I'm a Hull City fan and start quizzing me about Wednesday night. Driver has to wait for me to stop chattering.
Time for 'Spoons two.
Navigation, Kings Norton (2498 / 4656)
I never quite felt the love at this sprawling suburban slop house. I opted for a Ruddles, the bargain basement drop of all 'Spoons regular ales which I'd found it surprisingly moreish in York a few weeks back, but continuing on from my Fyne nightmare earlier, this was no fun, a flavourless babby mess, not bostin' in the slightest, not yam yam or even yum yum, even £1.27 offered little consolation. Boggly eyed customers, disinterested staff, and a seat so distant from anyone else in the pub, only a Mummy BRAPA Hull City prediction phonecall could brighten the mood. Oh, but let's look on the bright side as the carpet was pushing a 9/10 in its less 'worried' areas.
I was delighted when Google Maps chirps up that Cotteridge is only a 17 minute walk, because this is where pub three lives. As I cross the road, I'm not expecting this poky looking micro to pull up any trees, but it is full on deforestation.
Red Beer'd, Cotteridge (2499 / 4657)
Easily 'pub of the day' on a difficult finale where the message seemed to be 'stray too far from Walsall, get banged'. The young landlord made it, what a cracking lad he was, garnering a warm happy atmpshere which radiates through the pub and slivers up the stairs like a morning sunshine snake. Lads dressed as hipster Freddy Kreuger's add to that, with their cute dog who looks like Colin (from Accounts, not the Cauliflower of the same name). Sadly, my bad luck beer day continues, no cask on when I arrive and the fizzy stout is a tough drink. A cheese & onion roll (note, no use of the word 'cob' here) helps. Being the dude he is, once cask is back on, landlord brings me a free half over of 'Ostler's Terry's Norsk' and by gum, if it'd been a pint, it'd rival Walsall Cricket Club HPA for beer of the week.
The Red Beerders convince me that Stirchley is easily walkable from Cotteridge as long as I'm not a total lazy arse, which I assure them I'm usually not, so I set off on the Road to Hell, crossing a river called Rea (that's one for the punx), into prime Brew Co. territory, 14:02, the six pub dream was still alive!
Birmingham Brewing Company Taproom, Stirchley (2500 / 4658)
With twelve tiny beers being pulled through for a group of folk who must be on some pre-arranged beer tasting session (there was a bloke telling them what to think!), I had a long wait for my Brummie Pale, and when it did transpire, it keeps my poor beer run going. If it was an ageing country singer, you could rename it Swilly Nelson. Not a comfortable place to sit, canteen style without the balls of a Shildon (pretends to be shocked), but I should commend the warm blowy fans. A wailing toddler hitting the Ribena hard won't stop wailing, just to complete the picture.
A six minute walk through Stirchley brings me to pub 5, handily situted for Bournville station where dark chocolate comes from. A cat has a bum wash and nearly trips me up.
And seconds later, it is nice to see the micro has been named in it's honour ......
Wildcat Tap, Stirchley (2501 / 4659)
When the main man starts pulling my ESB into a bucket, I think he must be familiar with my Parcel Yard end of night exploits, but sadly not. A first decent pint of the day, halleluljah, but I'm still critical cos this particular brand of ESB is Reviver by Siren, not Fullers. 'Well that's surely better?' you beer nuts who hate anything with a whiff of the corporate would probably say, but no, because it is only 4.8% . Perfectly nice, but no chest burning head swimming sensations were experienced. Anyway, sorry to talk about beer so much, but the Wildcat was teensy bit on the drab side in terms of pub aesthetic / happenings, amd I've decided it should be legal requirement for all ESBs to be over 5%.
Maybe Walsall had spoiled me, as I feel like all I've done today is moan! And my moaning wasn't quite done yet as back in New Street, I jump aboard a last gasp tram, relieved to see it is heading in a St Chad's / Jewellery Quarter direction, and after getting a bit lost, I finally find my final pub.
And it is angry with me before I've even got inside!
Rock & Roll Brewhouse, Hockley, Birmingham (2502 / 4660)
BRAPA :
R&RBH : "We're not a pub you dickhead! Get out you populist drink wanting, chicken nugget eating scum. Our cobs are vegan so stick that up yer jacksie. Your kids can piss off too. And if you hate loud music old man, you are a loser. Wi-fi? Wi-fi? OMG you privilaged tosser, what do you think this is, the 21st century?"
Yes, it is a good job I'm a pub ticker and have to force myself into Stockholm Syndrome with some of these places cos I think I'd have run a mile otherwise to seek out somewhere with a 'smile . love . drink . be happy blackboard! With hours limited to 5-9 Fri and 3-9 Sat and a live band on, place is unsurprisingly standing room only, I wedge in at the bar with a few others trying not to spill my pint of squash the vegan cobs. One naughty bloke starts a rumour there might be an outside area, gets our hopes up, so we clamour as one to ask the staff, but sadly not! Decent ale, my bad run well and truly broken, but this wasn't enjoyable pubbing (sorry, brewerying) in any form.
And a real shame as the original Rock n Roll Brewhouse, situated in different premises visited with Daddy BRAPA on 16th June 2018 was an utter delight. Gentle, hypnotic, welcoming, good humoured. I think I'll choose to remember that one!
Well, there we go friends. Delighted to make it back to New St for my 5pm train home to York. It had been a wonderful four days in what is surely the best part of the UK for beer and pubs, and now it was finally Hallowe'en party time which I celebrate with a bottle of Traquair Jacobite Ale .....
Join me tomorrow where we'll get stuck into the November month end review and have a look ahead to the slim pickings tickings due in December.
See you soon, Si
