I never expected my Skegness debut to begin with a walk down a tree-lined path in search of pub one.
And although this sign didn't really have me wetting my pantaloons at the thought of top GBG pubbing .....
.....the truth was a grand palatial hotel of incredibly quality, stately home-esque, providing you turned a blind eye to the bouncy castle out back, my days of bouncing are over! Bah humbug.
The bar was easier to find than expected, just off to the right on entry. Vine Hotel, Skegness (2635 / 4530) must be a real jewel in the Bateman's crown. An old man perching at the bar, like a hooded crow waiting for scampi and peas, encourages me to ding the bell, and this genial young chap appears, and serves me the best pint of XB I've had in yonks. Far too many poor XB experiences in 2022/23, but this was a reminder that you can't keep a classic down. I apologise if my bell dinging was premature but Mr Scampi Crow and Mr Geniality both assure me "that's what it is there for!" Take note Waterbeach Sun and many others, you miserable bell ding hating bastards. The carpet is an effortless 8.5, and the dartboard and live 'Transfer Day Deadline Sky Sports' screen stop this cute bar from being too up its arse and tepid. That was the risk in a place this posh. A trip to the loo on the other hand and I'm a mouse in a maze, passing minstrel topped receptionists, no surprise the loos live up to expectation, could've brought my pint in here. A fine way to start, about as far away from my pre-conceived Skeggy notions as imaginable.
Time to re-trace my steps, where I hit the bus station.
A pink open top bus with a sexy face (she's called 'Candy the Seasider') arrives, now my Skegness experience really could begin!
I get a seat up top with the cool kids, but I didn't get offered a Candy sticker by the driver like the other kids, booooo, at least Colin should've been given one.
It is the final week of the school holidays, the sun is hot, and unsurprisingly, the bus is absolute chaos. Standing room only for some. The adults are more excitable than their kids as they relive their own youth time holidays.
It takes about 40 minutes to reach Chapel St Leonards, as we meander through each and every resort and caravan park, dropping off and picking up.
CSL is so calm by comparison, like the 'thinking man's part of town', or at least the graveyard. I approve!
Out on the beautiful beachfront, I spin around from this view to see this .....
'Flippin 'eck, is that my pub?' I thought, as I apologise to these two ladies for almost crashing into them climbing the steps, nervously eyeing up what looks to me like a tacky beach bar of little substance. Even approaching the tiny bar area at Admiral Benbow, Chapel St Leonards (2636 / 4531) my view is 'what's this dirty dosshouse all about?' , it is full of empties, and just as many folk trying to return glasses into an area with no space (proof that there is that 1% of the time where returning your glass isn't helpful!) Still, the matrons behind the bar are switched on lasses, my ale is pingy quality, and as I spin around once more, this time to stride down the narrow bar to the deceptively long far end, I sudden realise 'cor blimey, this is actually a corker!' Beautifully done interior. An unseen dog whimpers, and I must look disturbed, because the lady that owns the thing shouts across to me about the mutt's 'settling down routine'. Funny because there are so many people between me and her, most of them doggie couples. My only regret is a quick quaff when I realise a rare bus to Ingoldmells is due soon, but talk about 'don't judge a book by its cover'. A superb place to have a drink.
The ladies at the bus stop told me not to hold out much hope re imminent bus arrival, because they'd been there ages, but I was in luck, and soon we were steaming round a hairpin bend into Ingoldmells centre, time to press the buzzer and leap out into the pub ......
Another case of the exterior not quite matching the interior, The Countryman, Ingoldmells (2637 / 4532) had a country pub feel rather than the estate style boozer I'd been expecting. Vast and largely carpetted (my 9/10 rating at the time was a touch optimistic), I'm 'greeted' by a gaggle of gnarly blotchy bulbous nosed bar blockers, all great mates with the equally gloomy guv'nor (I bet they just rotate who pulls the pints), zero effort to welcome me in! Maybe I'm not Skegbuster quite yet? Landlord brightens briefly when I asked about the 'Leila Cottage' ales, once brewed here, but he laments now over in Heckington at 8 Sail, which would prove to be my first official 2024 GBG tick a few weeks later. Not a particularly scintillating drop but nice and cheap. With the distant clank of pool balls and plenty of opportunity to hurdle a series of poorly positioned chairs on the way to the gents, I'd rate this a decent pub, if not quite hitting the heights of my previous two.
Hard to believe that Fantasy Island was a mere 10-15 stride out from here, rollercoaster almost immediately visible from leaving the pub!
This is where I aimed to catch the next bus from, and when I round the corner, I see an earlier delayed one is just pulling in, so I sprint, in doing so drop my green Stabilo. A bald tattooed man nursing a pint of lager outside a sports bar called 'Cheeky Blinders' points, I pick it up, thank him and scramble for the bus, only making it because of the five people waiting to get on! Phew.
Next stop Seathorne, a sort of suburb just north of Skeggie, which the GBG cannot make up its mind about. Does it belong under Skegness? Or is Seathorne a place in its own right? Depend which GBG you buy. Prime North Derbyshire decision making banter is this! Shittington Moor? Brampton? Nah, let's stick it all Chesterfield this year!
But if I'd been lucky re catching the bus, well ya know that ole' BRAPA phrase / Generators song 'life gives, life takes'. My thumb is hovering over the bus buzzer getting ready to press it, when a text message flashes up informing me my Grantham - York train has been cancelled! Noooo, I'd been so focussed on getting out of Skeggy, I'd not considered the ultimate leg of my journey.
I briefly debate not getting off in Seathorne, and getting back to Grantham earlier to give myself more plentiful York options, but then I consider 'how many better opportunities are you going to get to tick Seathorne than this?' and ring the bell .....
Mobility scooter? Proper pint? Your local? Yes, Seathorne Arms, Skegness / Seathorne (2638 / 4533) was the balls to the wall no frills estatey boozer I'd been expecting in Ingoldmells. A plush purple velveteen sauna at that. Everyone is very perky, especially Mr Stiff Little Fingers behind the bar who I'm sure I've bumped into at the Rebellion Punk Festival in Blackpool once or twice. Happy hour too, kerching! The strong GK guest, Mischief Maker, is as punchy as the locals at 6%, who have commandeered the cosiest corner, and that combined with a weak phone signal forces me onto the benches outside. After all, I had 'research' to do in terms of coming up with an alternate route back to York. Easier than I was expecting, even with a change at Donny, I only get home 20 minutes later. Hurrah! And to celebrate, two old blokes decide they want to share my bench because it is (a) in the sun (b) nearest the bar! and (c) downwind for smoking or something technical! They don't really grasp BRAPA but seem to think that going round 4,500 pubs sounds a good idea, although they think I'd be wise staying down here for the night, something I had no intention of.
It is a tussle to get out of Skegness, longest snakiest queue for the train in history, couple in front of me having a proper flap that if we don't make it on, there'll be hell to pay. I convince them to keep the faith, and sure enough we're on easily, and the journey home is surprisingly but thankfully uneventful after that. Phew, at least I can finally say I've done Skegness, at peak holiday season. No pain, no gain!
Join me on Sunday, when we head to Leicester for a bit of footballing fun.
Si
Comments