The latest leg of my quest for a full Lincolnshire completion by the end of the 2023/24 season took another step in the right direction, with a Louth-centric day, 6.5 years after my previous visit yielded four ticks, and yet here we are requiring four more.
I think that's what they call churn! Louth is hardly a major metropolis, or even a particularly strong pub town.
With Daddy BRAPA at the wheel and Colin riding shotgun, we crossed the Humber Bridge in miserable conditions and headed south east of Louth to the obscure village of Aby.
I say village, the pub was the only building I saw within about three miles, on the bend of a country lane. No wonder this one looked particularly impossible by public transport, even by Lincs standards.
But I knew we were onto a winner as soon as Dad spun the BRAP-mobile into the pub car-park 11:55am , five minutes before opening, and the landlady carrying what appeared to be a box of eggs, gave me a little wave. Not an easy feat when carrying eggs in the rain.
After 4 minutes of realising neither of us had a bar of phone signal, the rain stopped just long enough to allow us to brave the 10 second walk into the pub.
Dad went sans coat for the pure banter ....
Straight into my Lincs top 10 for the Railway Tavern, Aby (2592 / 4487) which had a homely feel from the word go, due to the friendly owners, who run the pub with a low-key demure serenity. The landlady immediately joins in with Dad's 'it is a good day for getting rid of a bit of cash' chatter, saying that cash is still king as far as she and most other publicans are concerned, so I promise I'll bear it in mind next time I reach for my credit card. Despite the lack of a proper functioning railway within five million miles, the pub is true to its name with a good chunk of railway memorabilia. Blame Beeching probably, the bloke was the ultimate BRAPA crapper. The beer is from Shadow Bridge, so called because the brewery is in the SHADOW of the Humber BRIDGE, albeit on the wrong side, a decent drop. Someone from a neighbouring room squawks that England Women are labouring to victory over Haiti, can't see them getting out of the group stages was my prediction .....
Onto Louth then, and the rain is back to its relentless worst, so a stroke of luck to find a Pay & Display next door to our pub. Not that Daddy B. can get it working, but I have a go and it works! Hurrah. Made me feel like an adult buying an actual car ticket!
My first (incorrect) impression of the Boar's Head, Louth (2593 / 4488) is of a bit of a chavvy doss-house if I'm being honest. Snobbery on my part, I'd seen the guv'nor with his bodgy tats and black eye, and the couple being served before me with their tan lines, bling and tight denim shorts. But he's one of nature's buzzy bee workers - think Patrick of Bangor, Jeff in Rye, he's neither here nor there, he's flippin' everywhere, like Ian Ashbee! He gives us the lowdown on Louth's parking restrictions, then a few tourist tips on what your casual Louth visitor can get up to when they ain't in the pubs, before pulling a cracking pint of Tim Taylor Landlord which has a slight sweetness which makes it addictive like crack cocaine or something. He's simultaneous cooking some sausages out the back. Two super smiley blokes are playing pool by the gents. Lincs, is this really you? And a hugely impressive pub because despite a bit of beige decor , the inner walls are intact meaning we have a multi-room layout, incredibly rare in this part of the world. I was impressed beyond all expectations.
Time to brave that rain once more, and head down into the centre of Louth for the final pub of part one.
I just did not understand Cobbles Bar, Louth (2594 / 4489) one iota. What vibe are they even going for here? I was expecting a micropub. It certainly wasn't that. One cask ale hiding behind a tiny blackboard under five lager fonts. The staff are a perky bunch. There's a moody Amstel drinking codger at the bar with no teeth and a little poo bag. He's turning to gurn at Colin. There are elderly couples sitting down to soup and salads. You've got a couple of blousey ladies with boutique dogs and patient hubbies. And then, you've got Louth's funky twentysomething crowd necking the Beavertown Sneck Oil and Camden Hell, as though this place is the hottest ticket in town. Dad goes up for a bonus coffee with a tiny biscuit, it was the sort of place that invited such shenanigans. Like music that I can't fit into a nice compartmentalised genre, I struggle with bars I can't stick into a little box in my mind. But that's my problem, not Cobbles.
I'll leave it there for tonight. I'll try and be back tomorrow with part two but I'm going out so depending on how many times I say fuck or bugger, it'll be released pre-watershed (6:55pm) or post-watershed (11pm).
Take care, Si
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