BRAPA is .... THE PUB TICKER WITH THE PEARL EARRING (B/W KINDER SURMISE)

Sorry for the late release time, I fell asleep after work for far too long and Wales v Belgium has been distracting me.

Thursday 22nd May 2025

Sheffield station, 10am, and it was time for my annual train trip across the Hope Valley to mop up my North Derbyshire duo, with a view to tackle my remaining trio within pissing distance of Manchester.

Thankfully, the 272 Hope-Castleton bus is delayed, otherwise I don't know how I'd have been expected to reach the stop in time, c'mon First South Yorkshire, South Peak, do better!

Castleton seems a jolly little place, four of its five pubs are decent, I'm told. My only previous trip being a 2019 tick of the Olde Nag's Head. How is it that every BRAPA tick from pre-2020 feels a lifetime ago?

Oh look, pub door open at 10:55am, let's take advantage .....

Olde Cheshire Cheese, Castleton (3142 /5627) and I'm plunged into an archetypal Hope Valley delight, inner stone walls and worried old beams and horse brasses. Mood lit too although it might have just been that they'd not turned any lights on yet. "'Allo luv" shouts one of the two coffee drinking women at the far end "....ah'll just go and find you a member of staff". I'd been hoping for a 'duck', but 'luv' is fine. I ask for pint of something Intrepid, but she tells me she can't serve me until the clock chimes 11am, so I sit patiently in the corner for what is now three minutes. Three bloody long minutes, I tell thee. A desperate bloke rushes in at a hundred miles an hour. "Just using the loo, arrggh!" He cries. I remark 'someone's desperate'. She tells me he's building a house opposite, which seemingly puts added pressure on one's bladder. She calls me back over, pint o'clock! Worth the wait? Hmmm. it ain't great quality in truth, not awful, but then you'd wonder why such a delightful pub isn't GBG regular. Too many on, not enough cask drinkers, age old problem. Sheryl Crow is singing, and today's 'Uber cheat' is imminent.

Contender for 'Uber ride of the year' as we cut through beautiful scenery, Blue John Tavern, Yer Mam's Tor, you know all that Peaky jazz.

Our driver Muhammed is a top lad, in fact this is giving him inspiration for a day out. He hails from 'rural' Kashmir and claims he can see similarities. Plus he thinks pub ticking is an ace way to explore the UK, he's right of course.

He drops me in Hayfield, where I ticked hotel's Royal and George back in 2018, the home of that grumpy dead bloke off of Dad's Army which is actually on TV behind me as I write this .....

Kinder Lodge, Hayfield (3143 / 5628) suffers on two levels. Firstly from being the only customer here. The second was an open front door, creating a chilly draught which was up there with Reading's Greyfriar (never forget!) for most ill conceived self-inflicted freeze-out in BRAPA history. The guv'nor's a proper gnarly man of the hills, stood there merrily whistling with his steaming coffee mug and 'outerwear', the kinda guy you are always going to pay in cash. My pink Virgin Money credit card quite frankly an embarrassment in such situations. The apt Isobar IPA by Storm is a thing of beauty, smashes that previous pint out of the ground. And all that's left to do is watch the Test Match in silence.

Ivor "NOW reverse swing starts to take effect, typical!"

I'd never expected to complete North Derbyshire so early in the day .... the Manchester mop-up dream (MMUD) was very much alive!

After some jolly banter with a confused walking couple and some New Mills shenanigans .....

"Jolly banter"

.... I arrive back in Piccadilly, and after a quick wee and snack, take the Metro north to Prestwich, or Heaton Park to be precise for a bit of Joseph Holt sponsored fun .....

After a poor experience at Patricroft's Bird in Hand last time out, it was important this Holt's delivered and I can declare I was more than happy with Ostrich, Prestwich (3144 / 5629) which is some relief because over the years, of all GMR outposts, I've had more dodgy pints around Prestwich than anywhere else! I was worried I'd trip up over the Mild v Bitter choice ..... but no such worries ....

Decisions, decisions (Order Strongbow to really stick it to the man)

.... RetiredMartin says Holt's pubs LOVE IT when you ask for a taster of the bitter. I think I may've ended up with a thick lip! I'm tempted to go outside and explore the famous huge garden people keep telling me about, but there are locals hanging both half-in and half-out of the doorway telling each other to (and I quote) "fuck off you fucking cunt" but with a smile and a wink. It is the way people compliment each other up here. More background cricket, more definitely paying by cash. Interior is classic joyous Holt's, huge central tiled spartan bar area, loungey rooms dotted about, so I find one to hide in, sup my bitter, pray it is well kept - which it is, and say nowt!

I was surprised to not be able to find a direct bus service to Middleton, which is also north, of Manchester, but actual Heaton Park is in the way.

Middleton didn't seem to have a tram or train either ... did I know this? I guess I was on the Tandle-express when I was last ticking up here so it didn't matter.

So Uber Two it was, tsk. Cheap at least, Babar did his job, though I was a bit sad he wasn't a cartoon elephant.

I chuckle because the GBG description is textbook 'say you're a Wetherspoons without saying you are a Wetherspoons'. But Harbord Harbord, Middleton (3145 / 5630) is a 'Spoons you'd have to put in the above average Bognor Regis bracket, as you'd expect from a part of the country where beer and pub quality are noticeably strong. The Jaipur (what else?) is sensational, only matched by Chesterfield and Bognor this year. I had to work for it, the 'Spooniest of 'SpoonsMen with their sticks and scooters are loving life. "Has she seen to you ... like properly SEEN to you?" says one-toothed lad next to me with a rude wink, before adding with a wheezy laugh "... she's a good lass, she ignores me!" which she confirms is true. And interior-wise, it has that late 80's build North London easy low slung comfort which more modern 'Spoons can't replicate. Jolly good.

A bus back into Manchester follows and I finally commit to the fifth tick at Whalley Range which I'd been flip flopping over all day .... to be honest, I wasn't even sure I was gonna do both Prestwich and Middleton when I woke up this morning, so it really was turning into a classic #ThirstyThursday

What sealed my decision was that my Chorlton based fwends were keen to meet me despite my short notice message, though couldn't get there til 6pm (the place doesn't open til 5 anyway ... which might've been 4 on reflection!), so I thought "hmmm, can I hop off the bus somewhere just off Manc centre and go to a lovely pub I've not done in years?

I think the answer's yes (yes, yes) .....

Three and a half years before BRAPA became a 'thing', I ticked off the Marble Arch Inn on 22nd Sept 2010 on a midweek evening before a Far From Finished gig at a pub with no name (Star & Garter?) close to Piccadilly station. I remember a busy after-work crowd, mosaic sloping floors and much good beer, but I've somehow never been back until now. The heavens opened (classic Manc) just as I was about to leave. "You should get a taxi" said a bloke in the doorway, but in the pre-Uber days, it felt like too much effort. I was so drenched, found a cashpoint and I ducked into the Castle on Oldham Street and ticked that one too, my Autoroute printed map pretty sodden by now. Friendlier and calmer today I put my headphones in, and with my weird headgear still on, when washing my hands at the loo, realise I look like that 'Girl with the Pearl Earring' painting. "Ooh, I'll do a photo later to pass the time at Whalley Range" I decide. Great pub, my third trip will hopefully be to show Daddy B. how good it is as I don't think he's ever been.

Note Ivor's emergency fiver, cash led lad, and no one nicked it from him whilst I was peeing

I'd nursed that pint something rotten! It was getting on towards 5pm now so I meander down to Victoria station, and pick up a Metro south to Firswood. I remember the same leafy streets from when I ticked the strange and inconsistent Hillary Step a couple of years back.

Flippin' eck, this place IS interesting. Shades of a spooky Victorian mansion. I might've missed out at the Ostrich but garden here is huge! Carlton Club, Whalley Range (3146 / 5631) LET'S GOOOOO!

I planned to come back outside but thought my friends would never find me, plus I'm enjoying the large old clubroom with this smiley couple from American / Australia setting up their merch stall for a live gig later which had some good rootsy folky blues bits, but some cringe pretentious chatter between songs. For now, I wink at a puppy and a bloke with an eye patch and get on the Red Willow Dark Mild. I don't enjoy! Cannot fathom whether the suplhury-ness is 'classic dark mild' or slightly on the turn, but it ain't bad enough to return. I'm glad when Lizzy and Christopher arrive that they are straight on the #EvilKeg. If you can't beat 'em join 'em. Island Hopper by Weekend Project if you wondered. Glorious murk, I had three just to make sure I was really enjoying it .....

Work was 'fun' on the Friday as you can probably imagine.

But who cares, I was down to 7 ticks in GMR and Quosh was going to help me and Daddy BRAPA mop the five in East Manchester on the Saturday.

I'll tell ya about that tomorrow, determined to catch up on my blogs as much as possible before my BIG BRAPA SUMMER HOLIDAY in less than a fortnight.

Si