BRAPA is ..... SECRET TICKING ON THE BUS, TERMINATING AT THE TERMINUS (Part 2 of 2)

Saturday 21st September 2024

You join me in the canalside Cheshire town of Audlem, lacking a bus service and now my Uber has driven off leaving me stranded, despite giving me the impression he'd stick around whilst I spent my 25 minutes in the Shroppie Fly. Thankfully, the barmaid had recommend an App called 'Go-Too'. What is wrong with 'Go To?' I wondered.

After a pre-emptive half of Banksies in a pub up the road with a name which doesn't stick in my head but I'll need to remember for pre-emptive spreadsheet purposes .....

Dog Face is fuming I have so little respect, I can't remember the pub name let alone his

.... a gentle Geordie picks me up in his minibus, only £3 back to Nantwich station, though we have to make a detour to Aston where I ticked a good pub called the Bhurtpore back in the day. The individual is a 'no show' so we give up waiting. His last journey before a long holiday shooting moose in the Rockies or something, I tell him I might be back in touch for my Bunbury tick, really recommended if you are struggling with public transport in the area.

BRAPA - a travel blogger, and a friend.

Two pubs in Crewe next, oh Jesus. Why so grey? Why so grim? How have I been here four times and feel like I've never been? Makes Tilehurst feel like Fulham. It isn't like the pubs are ever close to the station. No, I've had many a lengthy yomp through Cheshire's sprawling arsehole.

But enough of my personal life, I liked this first pub.

No frills community spirit dominates the Earl of Chester, Crewe. welcoming at that, any pub where you get called 'luvvie' by a clucky landlady hen gets a bonus point. My Excalibur by someone local called Merlin drank very nicely, shame I'm not a half drinker cos I'd have definitely made a 'King 'Arf(ur)' joke which I'm sure would have delighted the punters. They are all jammed in the front bar watching horse racing, football scores and any other Saturday afternoon sports they can get their grubby little mitts on. I'm relegated to the back room, alone but not lonely, staring at the grey baize of the pool table (of course it is grey in Crewe, woe betide we went trad green or American red/blue), looks like it might be a live music venue by night. A boozer I could respect which almost made an impression on me.

Another 20 minute trek through town and some of the houses are starting to look red/brown brickie, which is a vast improvement. It's gone grey again by the time our next pub jumps out on a random estate, luring passers by inside with its devilish Marston's and Doom offerings, like a sort of beery Jeffrey Dahmer / Edgar Allan Poe .....

Fair to say I found the Raven, Crewe a struggle. From the zero self awareness of the bar blockers, to the plastic Scousers (despite a match currently going on a few streets away at Gresty Road which always pees me off #SupportYourLocalTeamUnlessYouLiveinYorkAndWereBornInL**ds), to the well kept but thick and soupy Little Critters 'Spot On'. It wasn't a 9% Barley Wine, but it was about as neckable as one. Unfortunate really, as I'd earmarked a train, I'm 20 minutes from the station, so I'm forced to work bloody hard to get it down, I just cannot enjoy the pub experience, despite an honest WMC aura, but in the grand scheme of things, I'll admit it is a deserved GBG entry for the new season, and that's Crewe complete, so reasons to be cheerful!

Not sure why I'd booked myself out of Manchester as early as 6:15pm but you can bet your bottom dollar that I did it before I was aware of my impending #CruelChurn

Just time for one more this evening (nothing new in Manchester / Salford this year which IS a surprise) but we do have a Stockport newbie, which never is!

So, when they say 'fresh' beer, do they mean their cask is fresh or are they talking about this new fangled 'fresh beer?' is my first thought. I reach the bar at Runaway Brewery Tap, Stockport glad to see one marked 'cask'. A typically spartan brewery tap, tinny acoustics, way too many kids and toddlers (half of whom are eating crayons), Pret a Manger style benches and a spewing stream of young twadults whose behaviour is best described milquetoast, the most milquetoast northern pub behaviour outside of York's Golden Ball and everything in Chorlton cum Hardy. I wouldn't say they're trying to queue, but seem blocked off by an invisible force field, that prevents them approaching the bar. The staff eye them curiously, but don't have the minerals to shout "CAN YOU MOVE FORWARDS PLEASE?" Similar situation outside, where lovely looking pizzas are being prepped in front of you. Even more benches. The loos are out here too, and again, 'herding' adults surround them without going in. "Surely you've got more than one toilet?" I ask a passing barman in sheer exasperation, who invites me to use the disabled bogs after nipping in himself (phrased that poorly, not at the same time!) But the beer is A+ quality. Autumn Bitter. Stockport always does beer well. The first beer I had at York Beer Festival earlier in the week and it was great there too. A group of gents ask if they can share my bench, spot my embargoed GBG, so we get into a nice chat although I'm not convinced by their ' crayon kids add to the atmosphere' claim! I guess it depends what style of pub/bar/brewery tap tickles your fancy. Here primarily for beer, pizza and crayon sesh? You're in heaven.

Apart from a late (and brilliant) pint of TT Landlord in Manchester's bonkersly brilliant Bull's Head, I keep my discipline and capitalise on my early arrival back into York for a rare round of Sunday ticking - not me rattled by the #CruelChurn!

Sunday 22nd September

I bought a hen at Hebden Bridge market. Took it high into the hills above town. Gave it some grain. And clear instructions .......

"Pecket well".

Thanks.

Just my little joke. No hen, just a very human cauliflower. Robin Hood Inn, Pecket Well was superb! I don't know what shade of dining dross I'd been expecting at 12 noon on a Sunday lunchtime but not stone-clad, bench seated, carpetted (7/10), local arty, moose head , pub mirrored cosy bliss! Imagine this on a cold January evening, fire in, snow whipping across the hills. All presided over by three blinky barmaids who genuinely look happy to greet you. Hopback Entire Stout is a random beer choice up here, and it might taste more like mild than stout, but worse things have happened in BRAPA's lifecycle. There is some food coming out, but it is unthreatening offerings. Just how much vinegar is this bloke adding to his steak baguette? His wife mouths along to Atomic Kitten through mouthfuls of tuna, and I think this might just be my favourite of all my 14 secret ticks.

Back into Halifax via Hebden Bridge, the lack of open station toilets is unacceptable but I guilt-free find a nice craggy ravine round the side. Hope no Sunday strollers below witnessed the surprise local yellow waterfall.

Now I pored over whether I needed to tick this one - part of the building was the Alexandra which I did a few years back, but not the whole thing, and to be perfectly frank, it felt worlds away once I got inside.

Not unlike Stockport's Runaway, or any given local chippie in style, what with its white tiling and comedy salt n pepper pots drinking beer, but I quite like Vocation & Co. Halifax. Again, the barmaids seem surprisingly pleased to see me (redemption for those early secret ticks where everyone looked like they were gonna spew when I walked in) and when I agonise over whether a 'Naughty & Nice' is a wise choice so early in the day, one yelps "YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE!" and although I've always considered reincarnation (especially if I don't get to the end of this damn beer book), I acquiesce and by gum, contender for pint of the secret ticking. Another trait it shares with Runaway. Vocation are a brewery I rate. A dodgy lady wheels a pram in, shuffles about, her toothless boyfriend goes for a piss, the baby throws its 'pub mascot' on the floor (much to Colin's disgust), before they are ever so gently escorted off the premises. A bit of West Yorkshire grit and kitchen sink drama is always an important addition in these craftiest of scenarios. Whilst the place wasn't quite my style (though I strangely love Kobenhavn), I doff my bobble hat to this one.

"Battered sausage, mushy peas and a scallop please mate, don't hold the chip spice"

And bobble hats are suddenly needed ... Autumn IS here. The Indian summer I predicted looks unlikely now and I've even packed away my shorts and t-shirts and got my winter wardrobe set up!

An icy grey morning gives way to torrential rain as I reach L**ds and march to the bus station, hellbent on reaching one of those towns which really should have a train but doesn't.

Otley's always been a top pub town though, in fact for about 15 years I thought the famous 'Otley Run' was a pub crawl in Otley, not studentsville Headingley! Curious Hop Bier Cafe is the latest modern offering, and the host, who someone calls 'Simon' (surely not a real name in 2024) is welcoming and chatty. "Oooh you can't go wrong with an Anthology!" he says, like I knew what I was ordering. And when I ask where from, he replies "Armley .... where the prison is" and gives me the most menacing eyes, I thought Peter Sutcliffe was back on tour with his musical. The main voice I can hear is Australian. But rather than chatting Neighbours, Prisoner CBH, Colin from Accounts, Heartbreak High or even Round the Twist like a good Aussie, he's waxing lyrical to a group of older Yorkshire guys on the breweries of northern England. Such a wasted opportunity. Majella Davis trumps Thornbridge every day in my book. It is such an artsy, twinkly lit bar, the heavy rain seems to be bringing the imagined summer vibe into disrepute. The bus timetables are proper f'd up, even live bus times are carnage, so I stay for another half of something called 'Fresh'. I ask him if it is fresh beer, he says not, I ask what fresh beer is, he explains patiently, but my brain can't comprehend. Then, a bus appears from nowhere on live bus times at Otley 'bus station', I neck my half, bolt through a gap in the shopping precinct, and straight onto it seconds before departing. Top BRAPping, glad I got this bugger done.

Tuesday 24th September

With the 2025 GBG only two days away from its official release, my secret ticking ended just north of L**ds City Centre in the suburb of Meanwood, a similarly painful bus ride and general experience to my Otley tick on Sunday. The only difference sees heavy rain is replaced by rush hour traffic and studentsville central.

Our annual work's 'Summer Bash' was finally happening in L**ds tonight (Tuesday? Late September? Almost like they were wanting to save money!) at Top Vodka Revs so I asked if I could arrive late (you had declare if you were arriving after 5:30pm for fear of messing with the running order!) to get my cheeky bonus tick in.

Well, I missed the raffle AND the manager's speeches but they held onto my free welcome drink - a bottle of Heineken! But before all that .....

The Tigers Gym Tavern, ooops sorry, the Terminus Tap Room & Bottle Shop, Meanwood just set back off the main road was your classic airy flimsy funk box of a micro. Did absolutely nothing for me interior wise, but what a star man the dude behind the bar is. Coolest barstaff of the year. The langid casual style in which, out of the corner of his mouth, he asks "what you been up to today then?", Socrates-esque. Genuinely wanting a chat too, within reason. Because if you give me a chance to speak, I will rabbit on. And after a while, he's bemoaning the 'state of the till' cos the previous owner added all these beers to it they no longer sell, and he's having to go through it painstakingly deleting all the duds. Which is my cue to sit down and leave him in peace. Meanwood's own Crambazzled is a great pint, more proof that everyone's doing a proper best bitter these days. But there's absolutely nothing of incident, nothing fun to photograph, weirdly reminiscent of London Victoria's Willow Walk (a Wetherspoons) in that respect!

More bus shenanigans, the stop is out of service so I race around corner where just at that moment, one was coming around the corner, somehow at the work do for 6pm but the main boss is stood at the door to remind me I'm late! Then I drank a bit too much, ending the night on an Abbots in Stick & Twist wasn't wise.

But that's secret ticking season done.

Join me next time as RetiredMartin helps me discover what is new and hot in outer Rotherham though I see he's already told you! Always a little behind, that's me.

See you later, Si