BRAPA is ..... SECRET SQUIRREL ON THE WIRRAL (PT 2/2)
Saturday 13th January 2024, 2:27pm
Awkward Heswall had been negotiated, the two greasy Greasby ticks complete and it is not even 2:30pm yet. I was making great progress towards Wirral GBG completion.
Three pubs remained and the good thing about Greasby, it is stuck in the middle. Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right (no offence Daddy BRAPA and Colin the Cauliflower), we take a short bus ride east for pub four.
Bow-Legged Beagle, Bromborough (2597 / 4758)
An automatic door which didn't even need passers-by to make it slide open regularly, hitting us with a chill breeze each time, was just one of the things I didn't like about this chain micropub. I hadn't enjoyed their Bromborough vehicle back in the summer, there is a New Brighton BLB which was dropped from this year's GBG, and I also spied a Heswall one earlier. Any more? Please no. To my eyes, they lack the care, attention and individuality of a Heswall Beer Lab or a Lazy Landlord Alehouse, curated by an individual. The bar blockers had no intention of shifting, and whilst bar dude is pleasant and the off season Big Bog Jack O'Lantern is a decent bitter, it was an experience which left us cold in every regard. Oh, and X/Twitter failed to embrace my Bow-legged Beagrie joke, the utter ingrates. Rank 6/6.
Then it is a bus back through Greasby for pub five, out to the Wild Wild West where West Kirby was situated. The hard part of the day now well and truly done, we had train links back to Liverpool from here.
I did a decent micro back here in the day, but it now had something new in the book just to annoy me.
White Lion, West Kirby (2598 / 4759)
I'm not sure why I didn't rate this 200 year old chunky sandstone piece of Wensleydale higher, but I didn't. It was atmospheric dimly lit exposed brickworky, but perhaps a touch insipid? The punters were airbrushed AI generated nobodies in the main, though a young simpleton barfly had three blokes march up to him and tell him the chemicals in Birra Moretti made it a poor choice. Credit though must go to a bloke who adjusts a wonky mirror which was setting off some latent OCD in me, pint still in his hand. Our beer, Luna by Neptune was impossible to get along with. Way too flowery with more than a hint of Christmas starter melon. Well kept, but like the baby Jesus himself, poorly conceived. Rank 4.
Note to self : avoid in future
Nice mirror adjusting there
One short stop on the train took us to the North West tip of posh golf resort, Hoylake, for our final tick of the day, and my Wirral clincher!
Black Toad, Hoylake (2599 / 4760)
Those of you familiar with micropubs, especially those of you with Kentish tendencies, will understand that the recognised etiquette in such places is that with space so limited at busy times, you may have no alternative but to ask strangers if you can perch at the edge of their table as long as you promise to behave and not disturb them. Sometimes, you get chatting BRAPA, sometimes you don't, but it is cool either way. What isn't cool is when there's one remaining seat and you get grunted at by a lady with a face like a sulky botoxed Wizardora, although she is perfectly happy to chat dogs with locals wearing jumpers made from skinned polar bears. Her husband throws us reassuring smiles throughout, he is a nice man and must know what she's like. For any 'Not Going Out' fans, I was getting Toby/Anna vibes. A real shame because at the bar, the barmaid is lovely as I jiggle her wooden frogs and pray for snow. But the long thin layout was crazy limiting, and you'd like to think people could 'read the script' better than BW. If there's one thing I cannot stand in BRAPA, even more than poorly kept real ale, it is rudeness. Rank #5
Despite that slightly sour note on which to end, I was buzzing at Wirral completion and we were back at Lime St so early, we ended up having not one but TWO coffees. Bloik! The way I felt on Sunday, I think a 7th pint in a pre-emptive may've done my guts more good. Daddy B doesn't get affected by coffee and has a total lack of empathy to those who do.
Join me next time, hopefully Sunday, when I'll tell you what's cooking in St Helens.
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