Saturday 28th September 2024
First official Saturday of the 2025 Good Beer Guide season took me back to Cheshire where I'd finished my letter A's the previous weekend in awkward Audlem. Not that I was allowed to tell you at the time #RespectTheEmargo
The ghost of Bob Holness was flashing something in my head, which sounds a lot more wrong than I'd intended, but I won't delete. That something was the letter 'B'. BRAPA logic dictated that meant Northwich was today's base, from where I took a bus ....
'Boozy Bingo?' 'Bosom Buddies?' The letter B was really flashing now. This way for yummy Coors! As much I revel in the GBG club 'mild peril', bonkers rules and the excruciating social embarrassment brought on by entry and exit, Barnton Cricket Club, Barnton (2712 / 5198) felt like something I'd experienced a thousand times before. Nowt wrong with it. Decent pint, nice staff (the lady at least), zero customers, dartboard, trophies, good flat batting wicket, 5/10 carpet. The main talking point was a bloke asking if he could use their loo. The convoluted reason behind this involved an error with a squash court gate entry code at a football club and a man in booth. When the landlady recounts this tale to her other half / main bloke, he gets a right grump on. "Are you alright today?" she asks, sensing his bad mood might run deeper than a faulty gate code. "I'm fine .... people just shouldn't be directed to our facilities, they have no business, graaarr!" he replies, and strops off, leaving her to mouth 'don't shoot the messenger' and phone the winners of last night's raffle who in my opinion, should have to forfeit their winnings for not turning up in person on the night. Lazy sods. Grrraarr! It was catching.
Uber cheat time, kickstart the day to ensure I had time for a pint in my favourite Bull's Head before the train out of Piccadilly this evening.
Unnecessarily awkward location? Sweeping driveway with large car park? Pubsplaining pub sign guaranteed to give me the irrits? Another 'B' was flashing. Brunning & Price.
Cheers Jake & crew, but I know how a pub works thanks. Hayhurst Arms, Bostock Green (2713 / 5199). Elderly armchair on a worn 8/10 rug in front of the fire, I'm sitting there! I plonk my bag down like a regular and suck down a challenging Salopian. The staff manage to be officious, smiley and fragile all at the same time, and glance at me furtively throughout. The only two blokes within earshot aren't your archetypal B&Pers, as Pete recounts the time he had to chase a bloke off his land with a pitchfork. "He'll get a slap next time, the mug!" he roars. Okay Danny Dyer, simmer down. The fact that Cheshire achieves 'southern' more than any county below it as far as Bedfordshire is a source of constant wonder to me. That just left me to reflect on Brunning. And Price. I imagine a Jekyll & Hyde scenario. Brunning the well spoken tweed suited chap who wants to create a genteel dining experience for posh elderly folk. And Price, who turns up once a month at last orders on wet Tuesday night, sits at the bar and chants "fuck 'em up, get into 'em".
Bit of drizzly rain next as I march to the nearest bus stop, less than a 20 minute walk, and back into Northwich which was recommended to me as a pre-emptive in 2018 in Sandbach which I promptly ignored, only for it to get in every GBG since!
I was already wondering if Salty Dog, Northwich (2714 / 5200) was a reference to the Flogging Molly song that myself and Sister BRAPA created a 'dance' for when we see them live. Think one part Michael Flatley, one part Basil Fawlty and one part Tasmanian Devil. The moshpit always splits out of respect for us, probably. Anyway, I'm even more convinced once I realise this very much a dive bar / gig venue. Nice bit of grot. Really spoke to me. Especially the bogs, where you can relive past Blackpool Rebellion punk festivals whilst having the poo you weren't quite ready for when changing at Manchester. Main dude is nice, reckon I could've had a nice chat if I'd been arsed / in the zone. Fear not, a lady he knows walks in with a 'Swagger' (thanks, Flogging Molly reference for you probable Eagles and Journey fans) , plonks a bottle of Lucozade on the bar, and announces "I'm leaving this here for now!" and spins around to eyeball me and anyone else listening as if to say "don't even think about nicking it!" Punk rock!
Northwich station is a needlessly long way from the town centre, but at least my route took me past the Penny Black, my first ever Wetherspoons and I'd definitely class it as a formative moment in my love of the real ale pub. I'd forgotten what a nice building it was .....
.... but what's going on? Filming outside! I had no intention of going in anyway but fight my way through the crowds and ask this smoking bloke outside a pub on the corner what it is all about. "Rumour is they are filming a Spam advert!" he tells me. I'd been expecting some period drama but the actors ain't really dressed for it.
I spy a ginger haired 'traffic control' lady with badly clashing hi-vis if she knows. "They normally tell me but not this time!" she whines. I repeat the Spam rumour, to which she replies that they were filming outside the butchers earlier so it stacks up. Fascinating.
The train takes me back as far as Knutsford. A town I find particularly pukeworthy (in fact, I think only Wilmslow has outpuked it in my Cheshire history). Narrow packed pavements, every other business is doggy grooming, tanning salons, wedding cake shops, nail bars. Lacks spam.
And the first thirty seconds inside Wine & Wallop, Knutsford (2715 / 5201) is shaping up to be an early Hallowee'en horror entitled 'I Know What You Did Last Scummer'. Stinking devil dogs, crazy spinning headed babies and hairy twilds howling in a postage stamp sized front room. Ugh, at least when I'd ticked their Didsbury vehicle, I'd been bang on opening time and as such, the only customer. But what a redemption arc! Having been catapulted head first into the bar, staff are lovely, Mallinsons beer 5*, the main protagonist (beardo with baby strapped to chest and umbrella in what appeared to be a third hand) is deferential, apologises for his accidental awfulness, and the waves part to allow me into an uninhabited dark area beyond the bar - leather benches, woodburner, stone walls, it truly was a wonder and amazed me that not one devil twild or stinking dog came remotely close to even peering in. With the news coming through that Hull City were pulverising some losers, I reflect on one of the best pub turnarounds in BRAPA history.
It was time to depart Knutsford (hopefully for another six years) and my next stop is Altrincham.
Stupidly. I let my phone battery die. No problem on my old iPhone but on this Google Pixel 8a, severe punishment. Tries to revive itself twice, but touch it in the 1-3% battery period, and it dies again, only to turn off completely and charge silently 'in the background'.
Only 20 more months left on my contract, disgusting!
Not good when you need the loo. The ghost of Bob Holness was back. "Si, you are ready for a gold run". Not helpful Bob!
After asking two passers by and an M&S security guard, who ends up having a nice pubby chinwag whilst old ladies are probably nicking bras, I finally find the pub. Photo taken on way out ....
Despite my phone traumas, I rated the Old Roebuck, Altrincham (2716 / 5202) as my best Alty entry since BRAPA began. I'd actually loved my pre-BRAPA 2012 debut here, watching them thump Histon 5-0 and spent pre-match in this amazing pub with 11 beers called the Old Market Tavern. But Alty lost all sense of its old self somewhere between then and 2017, as I visit identikit wine bar / micro / bottle shop style non entities serving avg pale ales in humourless settings, may as well rename the town Chorlton-cum-Didders. This pub was a throwback. A bawdy local's local. Tiled corridor, smell of tobacco. "I know a man who gives a lovely massage" says one older lady, somehow unaware that she's leaving herself wide open (so to speak) to all manner of hoots of derision. It was an easy pub to navigate batteryless, sitting back and soaking it all up - good pint of Knowle Spring. One criticism is the slightly muted colour scheme, beige, magnolia, grey, but a winner on the whole.
With phone tentatively revived, my final stop is Hale or Sale. Hard to pick correct one after 5 pints. Think I was on a tram. Busy. Get chatting with this half Canadian, half Timperley or Tarporley family who love Oscar the Owl and pass my GBG around the carriage! They give me a Canadian flag to use in my next pub photo. The young lass is very personable and asks me to guess her age. Oh dear, I hate this situation!
"21?" I say, absolutely zero idea. "Wrong, 15!" Ooops. Incoming check of BRAPA hard drive. She's thrilled and tells her Dad. He looks less thrilled. I explain it is cos she's mature to talk to. "Oh, I do some voluntary work so I'm good at talking to OLD people!" she replies. Thanks lass(!)
We arrive at somewhere ending 'Ale' so I wrestle back my GBG, Oscar waves goodbye brandishing his new Canadian flag under his wing, I've chosen right .....
'Errm, could you make your pub anymore grey?' I think in disgust crossing the road, barely even seeing it due to how well camouflaged it is against the tarmac. But I needn't have worried, once inside the attitude and ethos is multi-coloured, outshining even the Roebuck. Welcome to Railway, Sale (2717 / 5203) and the best BRAPA days are those where the pubs build to a crescendo. I swear I've not enjoyed a pint of Robinson's Unicorn this much anywhere since I first tried it in Preston's Black Horse circa 2003. Lacings were a dream. What a guy the guv'nor Dave is, pub is pretty busy, he's the only server, but he spies my GBG from 100 paces and before I can blink, he's at my table chatting and doing the guest ticking. I'm centre of room and a few nods of respect for my fluffy owl brandishing a Canadian flag, kinda behaviour encouraged in a pub like this. Roast Beer Monster Munch complete the win. Superb note to end on and well done South GMR for redeeming Cheshire!
And I still had time for my regular stop off at the Bull's Head, Manchester (Parcel Yard of the NW) although beer not quite as good as last week and I had to sit at the bar. But on the plus side, had a nice chat with a lady from Barnsley who judging by her eyes, glowstick, and the fact she kept stroking Oscar and says "ooh, int he soft?", might've been on a substance stronger than Banksies Bitter.
Great day though to kick off the 2025 Saturday season, see you Wednesday when I complete my first county!
Si
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