BRAPA is.... SNOWY DONKEY (Straddling the Mersyside/Lancs Border) Part 1/2
Nearly 10 years pub ticking experience and I still make stupid mistakes.
Wednesday 7th Feb, and I'd booked myself a hotel for the night at Liverpool with the aim of completing my three Merseyside ticks, before getting back to York at a reasonable mid-afternoon time the following day.
But what I stupidly failed to realise was that just because a pub opens at 4pm on a Thursday, you cannot assume it does the same on a Wednesday. In fact, two of my three required don't open at all on a Wednesday, what a donkey!
No wonder I look manic as I marched 17 mins down a road in Maghull (pronounced M'gull, as in "I've lost my albatross and mislaid my arctic tern, but I'm keeping a close eye on m'gull").
HOW DOES MAGHULL HAVE TWO TRAIN STATIONS WHERE BOTH PUBS ARE ALMOST 20 MINS WALK FROM EACH? HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE?
And this all came after a torrid journey from Manc Occy Road where two student rugby teams were being intolerable in cramped conditions. It is with great relief when tonight's only pub tick lurches into view.
Frank Hornby, Maghull (2635 / 4796)
First thing I notice, as is so often the case in 'Spooooons, is the carpet. But not in a good way. Like a magic eye puzzle combined with staring at static on an old TV, it does something to my brain and eyes, making me nauseous and dizzy. Slow service at the bar isn't helped by chatty local chap hellbent on discussing nitro Guinness pouring techniques as I battle to tell the barmaid I wish to redeem a last gasp Mudgie voucher. Whilst this new Oakham is certainly a top drink, hard to enjoy as I cannot look past that carpet, quite literally. Frank H. deserves a better tribute, I hadn't realised that along with model railways, he was also the brains behind Dinky toys and Meccano. Not to mention his hit single 'The Way it is', an absolute banger, plus his book 'Fever Pitch' I really enjoyed. Is there anything that man can't turn his hand to?
Back in the 'Pool, I check into my hotel, squirt on some deodorant, change my top, buy a cheese n salad roll, bottle of water for the inevitable 3:30am dehydration wake up, and head back out into that vibrant studenty night sky, passing a Japanese girl in John Lennon fancy dress looking like she's worried this wasn't such a good idea.
I'd been recommended a few pre-emptives over the past month, and whilst I won't go into detail until they make a GBG, here's what I did:
The Vines (Big House), recently refurbished, and architecturally speaking at least, the highlight:
I also really enjoyed the Queen of Hope Street. Such a great atmosphere, I'll be amazed if this doesn't make the 2025 GBG. The kids are alright.
Then a pub so new, The Engineer, it didn't appear on a map! You can also walk through the White Hart (formerly Clove Hitch, which I've done) to get to it, or walk around the back of Arrad Street to the official entrance. HATED the barmaid here, shouldn't be allowed in a customer facing role, but the place itself was pretty good.
I end with a Plum Porter nightcap at one of my old favourites, The Dispensary, great chat with barman over all these new ale pubs owned by the same bloke behind the new to GBG Red Lion. Apparently, he came into the Dispensary with a notepad, stayed for 4 days, scribbling notes and observing! No wonder his pubs all have such promise.
Last orders at The Dispensary
That leads us onto Thursday morning, and despite a noisy extractor fan, it hadn't been a bad sleep.
The rain was turning to sleet as I made my way to Moorfields station, purchasing another brill all zones Saveaway ticket (thanks Eddie!) , glad I had my Icelandic woollen hat, walking boots and thermals!
I hit Ormskirk a bit early for the 29 minute walk to pub one, and with the sleet now heavier and rapidly turning to snow, one of the best decisions I made all day was to camp out in the local Spoons, Court Leet, for 20 mins. It was a real win win win.
Pre-emptive tick so only half a 6% Peerless required, I needed a poo, and this was a great opportunity to then loiter on the stairs in the dry and see if I could get an Uber. A bonkers elderly couple took the lift up to smoke outside on the roof terrace! Taxi was only 4 minutes away, it is now 11:45am, perfect timing.
Great guy is our taxi driver Robert John (less stern than Stern John), follows a lot of travel style YouTube vlogs and loves the BRAPA concept so much that when we park up, he takes a note of my X/Twitter handle and says he'll follow me.
Pub looks a bit dark so I'm relieved to see the outer door open. Beautiful old building.
Kicking Donkey, Ormskirk (2636 / 4797)
Posh bloke is warming his legs on a fire that needs a bit more zhuzhing, I say "oooh you've got the right idea haha!", he looks a bit startled but thankfully his wife gives me a sympathetic smile. Long wait for service, a theme of this overnight stop. Frank Hornby, The Vines and Court Leet all similarly painful. Kitchen-hand sees me, does bugger all, but nice platinum blonde fluffy jumper lady jumps in and tells me it is cash only cos they're old skooool. 'Embrace Adventure' seems an apt bitter and I look out to see huge flakes of snow coming down heavily now. It is about now that I decide to turn today into a guilt-free Uber day. Distances aren't long, but getting from A to B, to B to C, is far from easy, yet every journey cost only £6-7. It made a lot of sense, and although a bit of lunch is going on around me, I don't feel at all out of place here with my Cauli due to a farmhouse / labourers ambience of ancient times.
Uber 2 is outside the gate already, I'm fully expecting to see Robert John again, but no, this time it is Imre (not Varadi) who had made great ground from Skelmersdale which apparently is pronounced Skemmersdale! Less chatty this guy, but super efficient and deserves his high avg rating and £1 tip!
Worth pointing out that my average Uber rating is 4.73/5 - I'll take it. If I was a 'Spoons carpet, I'd be excellent.
I'm in love with pub two before I've even stepped inside, this Tetley frontage with a stained glass inner door and tiled floor make me purr.
Prince Albert, Westhead (2637 / 4798)
The guy in charge is front of house, back of house, and middle of house too most probably. He's hugely impressive, a sort of younger, camper Andy Hamilton, attentive bundle of energy. One of those who even knows I need the loo before I do. The smell of the toilet corridor down to the Gents by the way is magnifique, evoking a candy cigarette suppressed memory of yore. Although I'm not convinced it was even my yore. Your yore? I'm both surprised and not at all surprised to see plenty of lunches going on, but the central corridor and distinct areas mean it doesn't jar. In fact, the pub puts me in mind of a scranny Swan in York, and I can't pay pubs much higher compliment than that.
We'll leave part one there because I know you enjoy a shorter one from time to time (oooh missus!) but I'll hope to return tomorrow evening to tell you about Lathom and the time I completed Merseyside for the first time in BRAPA history.
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