Wednesday 3rd September 2025
Despite an easy Tuesday being chauffeured around rural Gloucs (thanks once again to Martyn the Family Rug), I slept in too long to be in time for my Sausage and Egg McMuffin.
Porridge with Blueberries and a dreadful coffee but a 9/10 Tropicana had to do. Oh, and mydaily Neighbours catch up of course where I could ask pertinent questions like 'why has Elle Robinson got a new face?' and 'did it confuse her Dad so much that he signed up for this year's Strictly?'
You'd think my stiff neck and sore left foot (which I don't like to talk about) might be abating after such a physically undemanding last 24 hours, but a bit like Johnny Kidd & the Pirates, but not quite, I was Achin' all Over. (I would be Shakin' by Sunday when my body wondered where it's regulation six pints were).
Attentions now turn to completing the 'Bristol Inset' section of the GBG. Twelve pubs to go, six today, six tomorrow. Bonus final day in Bath. Opening times and buses around the city had been prepped, so off I set, colliding with a guy who looked like Russell Martin's bereft cousin as I lock my Air B n' B apartment.
Three central early openers first, then three late opening Micropubs to the east of Brizzle.
A stifling humidity hangs in the air as I approach pub one, then a loud rumble of thunder from above. A bunch of Japanese ladies, probably not Otoboke Beaver, squeal with delight. This was Bristol at it's most febrile .....
One of the most impressive Greene King houses I can ever remembering visiting, Shakespeare Tavern, Bristol (3334 / 5820) kicks us off in some style. The wood and brassy surfaces shimmer, and this is without any sun streaming in. The third most gleaming pub in entire BRAPA history after the Red Lion in St James, posh London (also the first time I paid £5 a pint, oh those were the days) and a pub in Loudwater near Wycombe. 'But where's the beer?' I panic. Crisis averted, our angelic barmaid has removed the clips whilst she gives the handpumps a good rub. I'm certain #PubMen would pay good money on OnlyFans for this type of content, especially if she wore rubber gloves. An incredible beer by the way, Halifax, Charcoal and Coconut. I sent a CHAPS payment to them at work once. A young guy walks in and casually asks if they do Eggs Benedict, he's craving it. It is a no from our heaven sent host, but she has a few helpful suggestions which don't sound like pubs. As he turns to leave, a huge clap of thunder makes the pub rumble like his stomach. 'Not my morning' he laments, and as I turn my neck 180 degrees very slowly (I'd be a terrible owl at the moment), the rain has started ... in earnest. Ooof.
Thankfully it isn't a long walk to pub two, but I manage to entertain a cleaning lady smoking in an enclave by splashing ankle deep through a puddle which I'd underestimated. And roadworks around the pub make the entrance harder to fathom than should've been the case.
Unnecessarily Welsh in name, Llandoger Trow, Bristol (3335 / 5821) hits you over the head with a history book in the process .... 'Robinson Crusoe had a pint with Jermain Defoe, then Dick Turpin rocked up on Black Bess and Judge Jeffries said 'I'm going to hang you unless you take that thing outside'. That kinda thing. I was one of only two customers inside, but a very soggy Bristol tourist party are stood outside with their brollies, being given a guided tour, peering in at Colin the Cauliflower when I return from the loo. I hope his presence was welcomed and didn't bring the pub into disrepute! The pub is dark, deep and would've set the tone perfectly had it not been for some awful acoustics. Barman and random bloke weren't speaking too loudly, but it was like someone was banging a tin drum against my forehead. The BBF 'Back to Cali' had a bit of body to match the pissy perfume so that was an improvement on recent BBF's. I'd been mildly impressed all round.
Back out into the wet street, right shoe full of water, neck and left foot aching. It is times like this when I wonder what I'm doing with my life, but before I reach pub three, the clouds part, the sun seeps through, and God's giant finger points down from the sky and says 'keep going Si, believe! p.s Don't' forget to check your premium bonds'. He knows I don't do the National Lottery.
And whilst the prize checker App reveals I've not won a penny on the Preemy B's this month, I've struck gold with our third pub yet in the shape of Cornubia, Bristol (3336 / 5822). Perfectly rectangular, hiding behind a hedge like your dodgy uncle Geoff. Deservedly busy. Office lunchtime drinking feels like a thing of the past in 2025, but not here as workers mingle, cajole, vye and jostle with regular-as-clockwork pensioners. Who surprisingly are all wearing aftershave, including sideburns Dean Windass who gave me a knee nudge at the bar. Yellow card surely? But Keith of Stroud waved play on. And no food in sight, not a sausage. Bristol was really redeeming itself pub-wise after that unholy trinity of Bank-Guinea-Portwall two days previous. I always sensed it had latent quality which I was about to untap. And a delicious stout from outer Maidenhead on offer too, I was in the mood, I do turn to dark beers when I'm under the weather and the weather is over you (or something). A seat on the back wall perfect vantage point looking out into the pub, surveying all, no neck movement required, was perfection too.
Half time, and with the easy part of the day done, it was time to take an empty bus out to the 'burbs of east Bristol for some micropubbing ......
Fishponds was the cutely named destination up first. It scores a solid 9.0 on the BTI (Bristol Twee Index) ranking up there alongside Clifton and Redland.
3pm on a Wednesday is positively generous micro opening hours, so 'respeck' to Snuffy Jack's, Fishponds, Bristol (3337 / 5823), named after the head miller at Snuff Mills and not my Elsecar Grandad when he had a runny nose - RIP. The pub is a cacophony of frilly floral leafy bits and cushions. Mine host, Rose, is not only aptly named, but is dressed accordingly, practically camouflaged. Very welcoming and chatty, sympathising with my whining over the lack of stout / porter option here. I nearly went red w(h)ine in protest but a voice in my head told me Quantock Best Bitter was the sensible option. Boring voice. Rose tells me she has links to London and Dorset .... Wimborne. 'Ah, the Green Man' I say without flinching. Encyclopaedic GBG knowledge. Slightly ironical because during my GBG cross-ticking exercise that followed two weeks later, I forget to mark the Green Man off, making my churn look even worse than it should've been. I also missed Poole's Poole Arms - a Dorset mental block - so at least I got a nice boost of two pubs Sunday before last without leaving the house, but I digress. Snuffy Jack's had been pleasant, and Rose encourages me to walk to pub five cos it ain't as far as it looks on Google Maps even if you aren't walking in a straight line.
I glance up at a Wetherspoons en route. "Ho ho, you've got no chance of GBG inclusion in twee outer Brizzle micro-land mate" I call out to it.
Errr, about that .....
.... and I would just like to say, there will be a special feature in my October month end blog called 'Wetherspoons Mindfulness'. Not two words you'd associate, but bear with me.
Anyway, back to the job in hand ......
Fifth pub is always the hardest, and it was about to get harder as I'd be told by two independent sources, words to the effect of 'look out for the guv'nor, he's a right miseryguts .... if he doesn't smile, or say hello, don't take it personally. It has taken me years to get half a smile out of 'im'! Good to know in advance. He's a 'Dave'. Most English Dave's are grumpy, it is a rule, unlike their American counterparts who are sweetness and light. I'm not sure inner wooden walls is a stylistic theme I'd go for, but I guess Wooden Walls Micropub, Staple Hill (3338 / 5824) did what it said on the tin. In fact, a bit of Ronseal may've helped it glimmer like the Shakespeare Tav, as they create a gloomy sauna-esque outlook. Not the classic chatty sociable Bristol micro I'd become accustomed to, the lady with piercing blue Tudor / Elizabethan eyes terrified me far more than Dave. But Hans Holbein would be all over her. Tough time to try smuggling a snack due to five pint burn. The ale was certainly GBG quality, and then some - award winning BBF Milk Stout, I know you lot swear by it, but always a touch sweet for me, but I was properly in dark beer mode now. Needed the loo, but standing up felt like asking to go in a GCSE exam. "Mr Mallet, Mr Mallet, I need the toilet!"
Onto the final pub then, which would leave me with SIX left in the Bristol 'inset' section and it is worth noting that both Staple Hill and this next place, Kingswood, are deemed far enough out of the centre that the GBG doesn't even give them suburb status. Towns in their own right!
The golden syrup / Millwall themed Lyons Den, Kingswood (3339 / 5825) couldn't have been more of a contrast from the Wooden Walls. "We're all about the people here" says Emma and former guv'nor now regular, Steve. I'd been instructed to say hello to them by one of my followers Martin (they're always called Martin aren't they?) "Martin? Martin? Not ringing any bells". I show them his profile picture on TwXtter. "Ohhh, you mean Martin, as in Martin. Of course we know him. Don't tell him we forgot him!" I suddenly burst into a chorus of 'Who the F**k is Alice?' with new Martin based lyrics, but thankfully Emma was too busy pulling me a pint of Glasto Best Bitter to hear. 'Not enough call for stouts and porters' she'd said, same thing Rose said in Snuffy Jack's. East Bristol people obviously have no taste! I'm at the bar chatting the whole time after that, so cannot tell you how boring or nicely done the interior is, but good people + good beer, in fact first time I've enjoyed anything Glastonbury since Amyl & the Sniffers / Turnstile / Charli XCX. And Emma takes her place in BRAPA history as the final guest highlighter of the 2025 Good Beer Guide.
I bus it back towards Cabot Circus feeling content. A good standard of pub and beer throughout the day. And most importantly I'd put myself in a position to finish Bristol tomorrow with a bit of effort / hanging around for opening times.
So how many of today's pubs retained their place in the GBG? All six. For a second day in a row. Take that cruel churn!
Hopefully see you tomorrow hopefully for six more , I'm desperate to get this eight parter complete before my next BRAPA holiday, which is on the horizon, but I'm going to be annoyingly mysterious as usual.
Si
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