BRAPA is .... LOUTH & ABOUTH ( Lincolnshire Surprise)

Saturday 9th December 2023, 7am

Drama at BRAPA Towers early on Saturday morning. I'd been waiting for Daddy BRAPA to arrive by car and park at mine, so we could leg it down to York station and hop aboard the London train for a bit of pre-QPR away day ticking.

But he rings me. The car won't start. And he can't take Mummy BRAPA's yellow dazzler because she's also an early bird and is out shopping at Asdas. It is a battery issue. Green Flag have been called and are due at 9am. All I can do now is sit tight with tea and toast and cauliflower, do some blogging, and wait to see what happens!

Dad is very apologetic but I tell him not to worry. After all, as long as I get my weekend ticks in, I don't care where they are. Let's just hope Hull City don't win 0-5 (spoiler : they lost 2-0).

By 10am, the car battery is regaining strength as long as the engine is kept running, which it has been all morning, so Dad arrives at mine and the (sort of) logical solution is a now Lincolnshire car day. I've hastily cobbled together a route and checked pub opening times.

A quick diversion via a petrol station and then Bishopthorpe post office is needed to drop off a parcel, which doesn't scan cos I got the label wet, the rain unrelenting once again. The man tells me off in a gentle manner for holding it the wrong way up, I feel hurt, but then we can finally get moving.

Our first pub has become a bit of an outlier, just south of Sleaford, but it kills time before 12 noon, so makes sense to aim for it now ......

Horseshoes, Silk Willoughby (2561 / 4719)

After such an eventful morning, perhaps it was inevitable that this should be one of least eventful 'first pubs of the day' all year. It more resembled a 'fifth of the day', when my wits and powers of observation are on the wane. Not that it was rubbish, just boring. Cute woodland creature staff put in a good showing, one even shuffled out of a shed as we retreated to the car at the end. The Bateman's Lincolnshire Bitter was a fine drop, displaying Lincs flag which looks African to me. Dad's Doom is similarly on form. Three plastic scousers arrive for the televised football but lack humour & humanity. I think my 'Velvet Schofield / Silk Willoughby' joke deserved more traction, but them's the breaks.

Dad's car starts! Relief. Wouldn't fancy a Silk Willoughby stranding.

And it is a decent trek to pub #2 to further strengthen that pesky battery, laying in a sleepy village twixt Skegness and Horncastle. No one really wants to admit 'Raithby' exists, preferring to say it is part of the Spilsby metropolis.

Red Lion, Raithby (2562 / 4720)

Down a leafy garden path we go into what must be described as a boutique pub, an impressive one at that. If I was to be super-critical, it was perhaps too 'cutesie'. Our gentle host is saccharine lightness, and although I'm more of a #catman, the front bar contains two of the loveliest doggy specimens in the BRAPA annals. Armchairs swallow us up, my FAB Lincoln Red takes some swallowing, and Cathedral Top Trumps provide some entertainment with York Minster a notable absentee. Wood burner and carpets are both pushing 9/10, and between a glass divide and hard to reach toilet, a throng of pensioners can be found with faces in the nosebag. Very Lincs, but decent Lincs.

Just a few miles south, today's third pub is a 2pm opener hence why we'd doubled back on ourselves, but this was all good for Dad's car battery which must've hit peak strength by now surely?

Red Lion Inn, Stickford (2563 / 4721)

And we've found pub of the day, by quite some distance, and a contender for my 'Lincs Top 10' available in all bad bookshops in the January sales. Such a boozer, peering through a scrum at the bar to end up with a quality Ossett I'd never seen before. Still, considering how heaving the pub carpark had been, we'd expected the entire pub to be swollen with Lincs bodies. Spooky. Stickford Wives / Stepford Wives, gotta have a system. Quirky as owt too. John Wayne posters, prototype Paddington Bear. A section of the urinal marked 'The Revie Stand'. Throw away yer medals and piss on them. Lincs at its tangible best.

I told you today's agenda had been a bit rushed / last minute, so when we saw the Isle of Axholme (where I have three ticks) was about 5,000,000 miles away from Stickford, I text my apologies to #Pubman Axholme Rob (I will meet him one day!) and we instead decided my Louth duo was a more sensible way to finish.

A third visit to this promising town, my 9th and 10th pubs, making it very much the Norwich of Lincolnshire.

This was the one that was open when we got there .....

Olde Whyte Swanne, Louth (2564 / 4722)

Pronounced the 'Oldie Whitey Swine' if you are me, if this pub was an Italian coffee, it would be Intenso. In a hot tight bar, my credit card keeps failing, I'm sweating, I need a wee, I'm leaning over three people awkwardly, I'm making cash king again in 2024, I've had enough! (Anyone else noticing pubs favouring cash more in recent months, or just me?) At the far end, I notice Dad has squashed in beside a trio of oldie white swines, Curious? Interested? Nosy? I guess it depends on your perspective, but they are a well meaning gang, all over Daddy BRAPA in regards to his working life/ retirement / pension. I felt for the Dad lad, although it was a refreshing change for my pub ticking quest not to be the centre of attention. Their dog is so quiet and well hidden, it is half an hour before we realise it is there, I thought the bone and crunchie treats were rustic human pub snacks. The Bass was a real good drop, but in the circs, we take our time over it, which isn't a bad thing because our final pub doesn't open til 5pm.

It is dark and squally when we leave, and Daddy BRAPA had sauntered down to the OWS without a coat on, like some Bigg Market Geordie lass, so he's glad to be back at the car, which starts again. Hurrah!

A mile or so drive takes us to outer Louth for a final tick, still not quite 17:00 so I stake out the pub from the carpark with a cheeky piece of Quiche Lorraine.

But the door swings open in a timely manner, and we're in. White Horse, Louth (2565 / 4723) felt like cheering on the underdog. The limited hours, the absolute lack of other customers whilst we are here, I can see a 'shut down pub alert!' in the coming years sadly, but I hope I'm wrong. The landlady is a jolly cheerful delight. The Bass seems more watery than what we'd had in the Swine, but Dad reckons I'm just imagining it. His s. n v. Pipers crisps bonus is a great move, and after the cauldron of intensity of the Swine, to be able to stretch across comfortable bench seating was the perfect antidote. Nice pub.

And there we have it. I'm catching up, you can't deny it!

Last blog til Christmas so if you are just a Wix type, have a great Christmas and see you back here on 27th for some Middlesbrough away day tales.

But if you are an X/Twitter type, see you on the 23rd for the BRAPA Christmas Special.

Enjoy, Si