BRAPA is .... OMNI-PRESENT IN MALTON (EAST-NORTH YORKS MOP UP)
Saturday 16th November, 11:57am
A last minute decision to swerve off the heavy traffic on the A64 and into Malton meant we'd reversed today's pub agenda in a split second decision. BRAPA by the seat of its pants. It seemed like a good idea at the time, although with the benefit of hindsight it wasn't, because it cost me a tick! But more on that later. Omni, Malton (2831 / 5314) had a Scandinavian O which I've only just learnt how to do on my phone, and I'm too lazy to attempt it on my laptop. Landlady gives a fantastic welcome considering we'd followed Thirsty Dom Littlewood (TDL) into a shut pub, and she becomes only the third person on the planet to know today's agenda (I'll exclude Colin on the basis he isn't yet human, and Dom had stopped listening long ago), but it is a rather plain sort of micro / cafe bar. My beer doesn't help. I just can't get along with this intenso Malton malt-bomb JRT (Jaipur Replacement Therapy?), and before I leave, the handpump is turned around. I'd had the last of the barrel, darn it. On the plus side, Omni had an ambient temperature. So definitely not an Omni-shambles, but just about Omni-pleasant.
Time to head towards the east coast. About half way along the road to ScabbyB (no relation to Daddy B), we turn into the carpark of this strapping, you might say muscular roadside boozer.
A rare 1pm opener at the Peacock, Snainton (2832 / 5315) and as Dad paces the perimeter, I jiggle the entrance door to no avail. No local Dom Littlewood to save the day this time. An archetypal veteran Yorkshire hostess appears shortly afterwards, we apologise for any impatience on our part, and soon it is all sunshine and unicorn rainbows as she's delighted with our delight on seeing some exciting North Riding brews. Quelle breweaux, as we say in France. The chocolate porter is as good as you'd expect. Dad's Peacock / L**ds Utd / "Let's go and sit in the Daniel Farke-orner" gag traumatised all (me & Col) who endured it. Landlady finds out about my vice / hobby / lifestyle choice, and cites a recent visitor from a grey Halifax caravan park on a similar pub ticking mission. Chris Dyson fallen on tough times? I was intrigued. Anyway, a very homely pub in which to imbibe, for one so high-ceilinged. One of today's stronger ticks.
Ticking from the Daniel Farke-orner
It wasn't far to pub three. Nestling on the coastal road just north of ScabbyB but south of Claughton which I remember from my early BRAPA days - flies, fog and expensive beer.
Look, I'm no Ebeneezer Scooge or Mr Grinch, but to find a pub festooned in Christmas grot(to) on 16th November was FAR TOO MUCH! Welcome to Oak Wheel, Burniston (2833 / 5316) which I can't stop calling the Burnt Oak, and I sit here writing this blog on 15th December and only today have I finally summoned the motivation required to put my tree and lights up, and wrap terrible tinsel around my poor pub mascots. I still can't bring myself to put Elaine Paige's Christmas album on until we hit 20th. A cosy dining pub with some top features if you filter out the nonsense, the champion club Tim Taylor Landlord really is a top tier pint, and Dad rated his coffee highly too. A couple of twilds escape the giant Christmas dinner to run amok in our direction, but like the dominant lionness in the pride, Mummy prowls over, gets a firm hold of their necks with her gnashers, and drags them away. Top mothering. And otherwise, we are too engrossed in Hull City / BRAPA Jan-Feb 2025 fixture/day out planning to take too much notice of external annoyances.
Our trickiest drive of the day was up next, right up to the edge of Whitby, and back down through the North Yorks Moors. Spectacularly bleak, I love it up here. Very grousey, very heathery.
The low afternoon sun is starting to disappear already, we find the pub situated in splendid isolation, astonished just how many cars are parked here, but I'm buzzing for this tick because back in BRAPA's debut year (2014), it evaded me, and hasn't reappeared in a GBG until now .....
And having now visited it, I'm surprised of its decade absence, because I thought the Lion Inn, Blakey Ridge (2834 / 5317) oozed quality from its deep pubby sinews. In a way the Tan Hill Inn (the logical pub comparison) could only dream of. And despite the heaving throng, no one was making any pretence at having completed a tough day of 'walking'. No, it seems the majority had simply woken up a noon, had a bum scratch, bacon n eggs, and slithered down here in their Teesside vehicles. It made for a sleepy, slightly moody bunch of punters, but that'd be my only real criticism. There's about ten different ales on for flip's sake, too many surely, but they are mostly Yorkshire standards being pulled at a rate of knots. I nearly go Old Peculiar but end up on Howardian Gold so I'm delighted / surprised to find it drinking well above the national average. The pub is a rambling maze, Daddy B. reckoned it was a basic tiny one room farmhouse when he last visited - when was this Dad, 1756? We sit in the 'restaurant' area because it has carpet, two 9/10 fires, and no table reservations. But when altitude takes over, gravity kicks in, and I go for a long no.2, I return to find Dad has been moved once, and has just been told to move for a second time! Brutal. Thankfully, a space in the bar has just become available, and doesn't detract from our enjoyment of a top top pub.
But as so often happens when I'm at peak BRAPA happiness, fate gives me a jolt of the harsh realities of pub ticking.
Church Houses Feversham Arms wasn't far from Blakey Ridge, so it had been very helpful of CAMRA to stick them both in the GBG together. But what was this? SHUT PUB ALERT!
A pre-emptive phone box pint is out the question too, even though it was bigger than Micros in Cleethorpes and Claygate.
When my phone signal returns, I re-check the opening hours and notice they are 12-2 & 6-11. Winter hours. When I'd previously checked, it must've been before the clocks changed, and it showed 12-11.
Fiddlesticks! Oh well, when I've only got myself to blame, I somehow find it easier to swallow. Pub ticking completionist Duncan Mackay had been here today during the 12-2 window, and had we not swapped our pub order last minute, we might've got to say hello as well as getting the tick.
But Daddy B. is nothing if not a pragmatist and sensing my disappointment, we hot-wheel it to the outskirts of Thirsk for a replacement tick.
A febrile scene meets us head-on at Crown & Anchor, Sowerby (2835 / 5318) as we attempt to simultaneously step over a tiny shaggy white dog and stop him from escaping out of the pub's front door. Not easy! Pleased with my efforts, I glance up and smile at the blokes around the bar and what do we receive in return, SCOWLS. I try revising my smile to a respectful Yorkshire 'ow do' nod. But no, just more SCOWLS, and craning of necks to watch a very luminous green TV screen showing football. Now it all made sense, these were miserable Minstermen watching their team away to Forest Green Rovers in a top of the table clash. 0-0 midway through the first half. One of the pertinent football chants of recent years has been "If you're watching on the tele you're a cunt" and weirdly I had this playing in my head right now. Can't think why(!) At least the staff are professional / on the ball, and I take what proves to be an excellent Mad Goose Purity around the corner to a friendlier egg-chasing room where a South African bloke is trying not to ruffle any English feathers. An elaborate semi-circular semi-outdoor trail leads me around to the Gents, where once again, that fluffy canine critter is blocking the way. I ask a more approachable looking York fan who is in charge of this wayward creature, is he the pub dog? But he doesn't seem sure. So, in conclusion, probably a nice pub, but tough in these trying circumstances. Oh look, Forest Green have scored. How sad. Rudeness is the one thing in pubs I hate above all others, I'd rather have a pint of Dumfries in a metal micro fridge called Tap, Cask, Keg & Brewery Kitchen.
And coming back into York from the north allows the opportunity for a pint in one of favourite pubs in Christendom, the Fox.
Cheers all! Have a bearable week. Nearly Chrimbo. I'll try and bang out another blog on Tuesday or Wednesday as North Yorkshire becomes Durham, sort of, but I'm running out of bloggin' days.
I will be having a #ThirstyThursday winter break in January so that will help me to catch up.
Comments