BRAPA is ..... DRINKIN' HERE IN ALLANTON, & THEY'RE CLOSING ALL THE OTHER PUBS DOWN

Thursday 9th October 2025

Before we head to deepest Borders, we'll start with a reassuringly thirsty #ThirstyThursday yielding six ticks across three different parts of the north west. Such is the plethora of pub options available to me in the first month of the new Good Beer Guide year.

Pack Horse, Affetside (3057 / 5898)

My one Greater Manchester miss of 2025 that's retained its place in the GBG. Truth is I couldn't be arsed to travel up to rural Bolton-Bury just for one pub. But now I had Bromley Cross to pair with it, hooray. Unremarkable Hyde's restaurant. Timid staff, punters likely having their last meal out before grim sweet death. One lady hates Celebrity Traitors because people keep telling lies! She expected more of Wossy, I don't know why. Best thing I can do is sit in the leather armchair closest to the fire (the pub computer had to give me special dispensation) and suck on a decent Hopster until my 25 minutes was up. A skull of the bloke who executed the Earl of Derby might or might not be behind the bar (I didn't see it).

Thomas Egerton, Bromley Cross (3058 / 5899)

Even more chock full of diners, but at least (a) they're mainly hidden behind glass at the front of the pub, and (b) this is a softer, warmer and more homely pub. Friendly too, barmaid 'misspoke' when she tells me they're flogging the Bank Top guest ale off for £3 cos they've got tonnes of it sitting in the cellar. Noting my concerned expression, she back tracks with "oh no, it is very popular with the locals, and selling really really well". I'm glad we cleared that up! Good quality on the tongue. The one eating couple within earshot had just ordered skinny fries when waitress returns to tell them their meal actually comes with 'waffle fries' anyway if they're happy with that? Bloke looks terrified, so his girlfriend makes the call on behalf of them both. When waitress retreats, bloke leans over to gf and whispers "oh, waffle fries .... I thought she was saying 'awful fries!'" Errrm, yeah mate, a pub is definitely gonna offer you awful fries, lord give me strength! I receive a really warm farewell ..... one of the nicest this year. Maybe they just wanted rid of me.

Bevi, Marple (3059 / 5900)

Buses, trains, and that hideous uphill Brands Hatch of a walk from the station to the town centre, yup I remember Marple from 2017. In fact, I went to a pub next door to here called Samuel Oldknow which I have no memory of. Having been told Bevi was a lame duck, I'm pleasantly surprised despite some drab greyness within. Welcoming in that I'm called 'luvvie' three times whilst being served, and I receive 'hill sympathy'. Possesses a degree of comfort, I'd never got on with that world famous historic Three Tuns Bishop's Castle muck before but by crikey, my first ever pint of their 'Best' is to die for. Most Hallowe'eny pub so far this year too, and whilst too much tat doesn't work in traditional or chain pubs, I think they give Micropubs a zhush they often need as I found last year in he aptly named Halesowen (Roberto's Bar). Even if it meant bring Our Vera into disrepute.

The Steelworks, Bredbury (3060 / 5901)

I'm distracted from the basic interior by our wonderful hosts, which allows me to celebrate re-reaching the 68% in style. Having expressed delight at my first cask Boddington's sighting since the reboot, our guv'nor gives me an unsolicited taster of the Atom, and being a Hull based brewery, my chance Hull City comment goes down well as his two nephews support us. Not sure if that's why there's a bowl of Turkish sweets on the bar but it ties in. I'm encouraged to explore. First the loos where I learn of a local pie poisoner. Then the garden - bigger than the pub! Two smoking ladies play 'guess the Hyde pub' with me for so long, I forget I have a pint indoors to sup. By 'eck it tastes gorgeous tonaaaht petal. The owners are excited to see my GBG, want to read their description, and despite the missing 'The' from Steelworks, are satisfied. I wish all pubs were so friendly. Well maybe not ALL, but at least one a day.

A lesser ticker would've been happy with four and waved the white flag on a homeward bound train to York. But not me, not this year, far too much ground to make up. With the light starting to fade, I had a Cheshire club evening coming up .....

Can't I just go to the pub please?

Victoria Club, Holmes Chapel (3061 / 5902)

Shanty the dog leaps onto my back, winding me, as I try desperately to look cool and identify a beer I'd like to order. From a seated position at the end of the bar, Shanty's owner chuckles. "If its a bit much mate, lemme know". 'A bit much' indeed! "No, I'm fine" I croak, wondering if I have a punctured lung. I pick a Merlin beer. Never been too impressed by them but fair do's this is good. First comes out as water. Then two pints are pulled into a bucket. The beer is called 'Mythic' so I make a joke about it's mythic wizardy nature causing water to turn into beer. I didn't quite nail it but the bar staff appreciate my efforts. Then I sit in the furthest corner praying Shanty doesn't 'rediscover' me. And when owner takes the thing 'walkies' around the cricket pitch, that's my cue to sup up and bugger off. Steady place.

Alderley Edge Union Club, Alderley Edge (3062 / 5903)

I was in the land of bored desperate Cheshire/ Scousewives by now, passing many identikit bars full of fake flora and fauna and fairylights on the main drag, I swing a left and need to be buzzed in. BUGGER. "I'm a CAMRA, pwease can I come in for dwinkies?" I whine into the intercom immediately wanting to smash my own face in. I negotiate the gauntlet of snooker tables, the players stop, allowing me to pass with a respectful nod. But the old guys at the bar are like "CAMRA eh? Do you 'ave a long lens?" which made no sense but I laughed along and assured them I'm no seat sniffer. The ale's good but I continue to feel like a fish on a motorbike until the guv'nor asks me if 'we' can have the darts off and the football on? I read the room and say yes. Good choice, England score twice within 10 mins, and soon the piss takey locals are over at my table taking my GBG for a wander, reading the description, like in The Steelworks earlier. A real 'tonal shift' from most of Ald. Edge, had some grit ensuring it was more memorable / enjoyable than the Victoria.

Saturday 11th October 2025

Fast forward 36 hours and Daddy BRAPA is at the wheel, about to undertake his most ambitious day of chauffeuring yet. Straddling the Northumbrian / Scottish border. What a legend.

He's obviously had a look at the likes of Paul Godden, Sladey and TheFamilyRug and said 'not this year lads, the BRAPA year end trophy is mine, all mine', emitting an evil mwhahahaha as we pass the haunted Chillingham Castle. Probably.

Up first, an early opener just over the border .......

Newcastle Arms Hotel, Coldstream (3063 / 5904)

A first GBG appearance since 1991 for this unlikely hotel bar, so unlikely, we enter through the wrong door, admire a grandfather clock, and get told to go to the next door down. The one cask pump, Tyneside Blonde, is hidden at the far edge of the bar, pump clip wonky and bent out of shape. A young indecipherable bumfluff boy in a tracksuit sniffs and Scottishly grunts his way through our order. Considering all this, we're astonished to find just how well kept the beer is. I had zero faith. A chilly drab uninspiring place in the grand scheme of Scottish GBG hotel bars, our main source of entertainment is the TV greyhounds. Dad is sure number 4 is going to win. It has just had a pre-race poo on the track. "Must've lost a few pounds there!" quips Dad. We'd have lost some pounds if we were gambling men, as poo-dog finishes 5th. "It should've been number 2" I quip. What a lot of quippage. Kinda place where you have to entertain yourself.

Time to wend our way north, so we can finish in the slightly closer to home southern pubs, if that makes sense.

Allanton Inn, Allanton (3064 / 5905)

Hurricane Katrina was the costliest and one of the most deadly in U.S. history, so it is apt that our host Katrina is an absolute force of nature. When we hopped back in the car half an hour later, it was a case of "...... and breathe!" Whirlwind. Jimmy White. Without the coke in a Preston hotel room. So welcoming. Loved the idea of BRAPA. Let her do the highlighting. Did the whole thing green, and then ended it with a big flourishing signature in keeping with her personality. Deuchars is the beer. Well kept but incomparable to the pint of it I had in Hull's Minerva, 2003, before it became a restaurant in disguise. Though it wasn't until I was in Glasgow a few weeks later that I realised it is now Belhaven who brew it, but perhaps that's been the case for yonks? She tells us a real-life Duke is coming in this afternoon. "I hope he has a Duke-ers" I quip. I was on top quippy form today wasn't I? Our new pal Katrina even passes the joke off as her own when her cellarman other half arrives, a really lovely chap like a lean french-fry, though our chat was brief. Impressive pub, and really flying the flag for all that is good in The Borders, quite literally .....

I'm trying to be more mindful of post-emptives as well as Wetherspoons this year, so although it had been dropped from the 2026 GBG edition, the tricky to reach Craw Inn, Auchencrow made sense as it is generally a GBG regular, and with Dad at the wheel, I'd rarely get a better chance.

The pub certainly looked the part, one of the most traditional and Katrina told us they had a loyal local ale drinking contingent which even Allanton couldn't boast. Sadly, one taste of my Jarl and I could immediately see why it had been dropped. Well done Borders CAMRA. You could say it stuck in my craw. Why didn't I quip that? Too many ales on I think. Only a half ordered thankfully as I'd invoked BRAPA post-emptive rule 13.4b, but imagine getting Jarl wrong. Should be a war crime. And Dad can be thankful he was on the OJ.

The best part of our chat with Katrina about today's pub agenda was that in flicking through my GBG, I suddenly noticed that one of our Northumbria's closes between 3-6pm, so that meant a quick hop south over a terrifying thin rickety wooden bridge , and we also passed Dad's favourite building of the day in Chirnside......

Back in good ole' blighty (temporarily), it soon became clear why this pub would close mid afternoon ....

Fishers Arms, Horncliffe (3065 / 5906)

..... Community owned pub alert! Ageing volunteers, but the loveliest people you could meet. First time back in the GBG after an twelve year hiatus. Apparently because the local CAMRA relaxed their policy of not allowing pubs in the Guide if they had less than three handpumps, which quite frankly, was an astonishingly harsh rule if true, especially up here where cask drinking ain't so popular. As true #pubmen know, less is more. Tsk! The beer is spot on incidentally, the First & Last Equinox as good as anything I supped all day (well until the final pub) and one of the cute ancients recommends I have a try of the exciting Firebrick lager - lager of the year contender, well better than the warm Madri I had on the train to Edinburgh. Volunteer duo's son lived just around the corner from me, small world, and is the lead singer of Blackbeard's Tea Party, a sea shantyish band I used to see loads around York. Which probably explains this pub's obsession with folky music - Dad checks that Stanley Accrington isn't a real name. Considering we never once sat down, a fine pub experience.

I'll leave it there for now, as we've reached the halfway point. Back on Sunday to tell you about the rest of it, plus the day I made my debut in Shirley.

Keep it pub, Si