BRAPA is ..... ON THE BERNARD-SI BEER MILE : MILLWALL AIN'T TOO SCARY REALLY

Saturday 7th October, 10am

Time rarely drags more than when I'm waiting for that first pub of the day to open, as happened to me and Daddy BRAPA a month ago, arriving in Bermondsey early with my required tick not due to open for another hour. Ugh!

Cheer up Bernard, the sun was shining and the air was warm, it was more like July than October.

And if you've heard of the world famous Bermondsey Beer Mile, you'll know what a plethora of funky little bars are sticking out of railway arches to admire. All closed, but plenty of cosmpoloitan street food and coffee is going on, a few benches to sit on with the old fogies, watching trains passing overhead.

Yes, it became one of the more interesting interminable hours!

I rang Mummy BRAPA for today's Hull City match predications ahead of today's clash at Millwall, and it was 11am in next to no time. Pub one, sorry 'bar one' (but not All Bar One) was here, open and ready for our custom ......

I like a positive blackboard, all too often they are moody, snappy and full of RULES about what I CAN'T do and what a nuisance I am for being here, so although I hate the word 'doggos' compared to the 'doggies' I grew up with, and have no idea what 'Yacht Rock' is, I approve. Nice work Arch House, Bermondsey (2456 / 4613) . The smiling smoker outside blows a smoke ring in the shape of a craft pint and follows us in to serve us. A Southampton fan with a South London beard, he soon notices we have Hull City etched all over our distressed features and we get into lively football chat. Daddy BRAPA goes for the murk IPA because it is the way he rolls, but I've decided to trust the one cask ale that is on, and despite the £6.30 daylight robbery / expected London prices, it is delicious. No carpet, but a nicely kitted out railway arch bar, you can tell proper money has been spent on it. The plumbing is solid (yes, I had to put it to the test), and the place is well insulated. I've heard of Anspach & Hobday before, but couldn't place the name and would've guessed soap company. I might be thinking of Baylis & Harding. Will look out for them more in future. Let's get quality cask into all the Bermondsey Beer Mile pubs so we can come back for a proper sick sesh. A promising start to our pre-match fun.

A cheeky train manoeuvre takes us back across to London Bridge, where a world famous pub awaits .....

The skepital nonchalence of the stance of Mr White Shoes should have been a clue as to the utter dog dirt horrorshow which awaits as at the world famous George, Southwark, Borough Market (2457 / 4614). 'Grade I listed 17th century only surviving galleried coaching inn' might sound impressive, and heritage pub lovers might convince themselves it is a 'must visit', but I'd argue a Friday night in Guildford 'Spoons would be a far more life affirming pub experience. It is everything that is wrong with Central London pubs. The Ghost Ship is tepid like pondwater, Dad's is even worse than mine. The other punters are either so unsuited to pubs that they don't know how to behave, or charmless gobshites who've travelled down from The North to stink the place out with their 'Cloggies come to That London' attitude which embarrasses classy Yorkies like me darling. The staff are faceless bot droogs, more than half to blame for the ridiculous queue that develops blocking stairwell and corridors. A short sharp "CAN YOU MOVE DOWN & COME TO THE BAR PLEASE?" bellow was all that it needed. Pub queues are rarely suitable, but never less so than here when you consider the pub layout. I feel sorry for posh coffee & cake lady, I've been encouraging her to 'break ranks' with me but she's ill equipped with regards pub culture, but when some loud Nottingham men do just that, I see it as my cue to leap to the bar! NOT that it stops Mr Foghorn Leghorn, possibly a Lancastrian, slap me on the back and say "ho ho, queuing jumping again eh mate?" The courtyard at this point may as well be an outdoor privvie and there is no room indoors. A trip to the actual loos offers a brief glimpse of this interesting building but it is too little, too late. Good luck finding a 'nice' quiet time to visit this one.

Thankfully, our next pub shows the kind of jewel in the crown that London DOES possess in decent numbers (I don't want you thinking I'm anti-London, I sort of love it in small measures) .....

Street corner tonic at Turner's Old Star, Wapping (2458 / 4615) , some pubs just get it right. Innocent men (well, not really, long suffering Spurs fans) line the bench seating trying to act invisible, the Brockley Beer is crystal clear quality, Daddy B. gets a crisp round in for much needed sustenance, a barmaid cackles, and the sun gleams in through the beautiful stained glass. And here was me thinking I'd seen the best of Wapping and surrounds in the snow last December. Perfect pub simplicity.

And fortune continues to favour us as we venture closer to 'The Den' for our final pint before kick off.

A short walk from New Cross station, I'd been a bit apprehensive (even suggesting to Dad that we might stay in the Old Star) for fear of this, a micro, being packed full of bald Millwall men who've come 'ere for a crafty riot!

But once I walking down the New Cross Rd, I somehow became 100% sure that this wasn't in fact going to be the case. Evidence that looking at a map is all well and good, but until you get into the environs and survey the terrain and topography, or something, you can't really make an informed judgement!

And my instinct was right, peaceful calm but a fair splodge of vibrancy at the Shirker's Rest, New Cross (2459 / 4616). SE London micros have been a mixed bag for me, but again, this place just 'got it'. When I came back from the fabulously leafy loo, Dad is chatting to the owner, what a sound chap, and he's heard of BRAPA. AND he was in the equally wonderful Fisherman's at Hastings at the same time as me. I didn't realise until 6am following morning when someone said on Twitter but he's one half of 'Deserter' who I've read some cracking stuff by over the years, and now does a Podcast I must listen to if I EVER catch up on Neighbuzz of course(!) Can't really put into words why it felt like such a delightful place to be in, but quality ale (Brew York and Red Willow, niiiice) and quality staff go a long way in a micro. Oh, choice of seat. But kick off was looming like a Lancastrian weaver on acid, so sadly no time to linger longer.

You could drink yer beer off there

I'd underestimated the walk to the ground and Daddy B was soon moaning about my lack of organisation (Brew York always makes him mardy) but all as well that ends well and we were in for 14:55.

By half time, I've never been more convinced we were going to win an away game. Total control. 2-1 up. we'd ended the half with wave after wave of pressure.

So it was so Hull City-ish that we came out like timid pussy cats, they'd obviously had a rollocking, and soon it was 2-2, then we just decided to stop playing all together, and in the end, we were fortunate to escape with a point. This felt like a defeat.

Escaping The Den was hard too, where I got recognised by another kind publican BRAPA hero, Ian off of Leigh on Sea brewery, but I was distracted cos I'd got lost trying to navigate a return to the station!

Still, plenty of time for a post-match tick though, just north of King's Cross at Islington, first time here in ages so this pub can't be a GBG regular.

I don't want to judge the Earl of Essex, Islington (2460 / 4617) too harshly as we'd obviously picked the wrong time to visit, 6pm on a Saturday evening. Bouncer (not the Neighbours one) is on the door for heaven's sake, even though every customer was a boho vegan twenty something called Jemima or Tristan with a handbag doggo, visible ribcage and jaunty beard. I'm more inclined to call the bouncer a doorman to be honest, his big thing was opening and closing the tricky thing, murmuring politely and pointing at available benches. Packed inside, stuffy, I've got a headache, and an impossible to read classically North London 'beer board' doesn't help. I bring us out a pint of keggy stout, like a roasty Guinness, Anspach and Hobday I think, the day had come full circle. I like that. A young lady admires an Egyptian logo on her friend's bag, but friend comments her shoes are the real winner. Then a Just Eat driver cycles past humming a ditty. I look at the doorman. He shakes his head and chuckles. End.

Though it wasn't quite the end of course, because I was destined for King's Cross and we all know what that means ......

And that ended a good day. When I woke at 6am, gagging for a much needed pint of water, I reflected that five BRAPA ticks and an away point was a pretty decent outcome when all said and done.

Thanks for reading, see you Wednesday 9pm where we'll mop up four more from Yorkshire.

Si