Friday 2nd May 2025
Google Photos update .... good news, we have a "temporary workaround!" The two most popular words in the 'tech support are unable to resolve an issue' dictionary.
If West Chiltington et al had appeared a tricky rural yomp the day before, then b-b-b-b-baby you just ain't seen n-n-nothing yet as I head back up to Midhurst on the morning of day three, the sun arguably even hotter than it had been on day's one and two.
Glad I'd packed suncream and water for this one. Not to mention my druggie bucket hat and funky blue shades.
I then take a rare 92 bus west in the direction of Petersfield, which technically in GBG parlance, is in Hampshire, but I'm not getting into that argument again! I hop off at Iping Lane, at the junction of Elsted Road.
It isn't the gentle country lane I'm hoping for, not 'dangerous' but pavementless and more speedy traffic than I'd have liked, though occasional periods of calm where I'd not see a car for five minutes, followed by a slew of the buggers.
It was a long drag down to Elsted proper where my first tick would eventually be found, but en route, a quick morale boosting pitstop in the form of the previously GBG listed Elsted Inn. 11:50am when I arrive, surprised it isn't open, but two hairy scaffolders (it's ALWAYS scaffolders) got me in through a side door, and a Draco Malfoy in motorbike leathers serves me with a smile.
Just a half as is allowed in pre/post-emptive rules, the pub is decently old, fairly plain, but being anxious about the ongoing walk, I neck the half in seven minutes so it is rather uneventful. Probably how most of my fellow tickers despatch their ticks, personally I'd find that method quite joyless, even if they do make far better progress than slow old me! But the beer quality on this Goodens Gold is so much better than a lot I'd had this first two days. Flower Pots normally impress me.
But I won't be happy until I've reached my official first pub so I get my head down (whilst keeping an eye on the traffic) and march, phone firmly in pocket, hat on, shades on, I am sweating like a fat lass by now, but our pub lurches into view quicker than I expect, raised on a bend over a wall.
Three Horseshoes, Elsted (3098 / 5583) is a rural beauty which in some ways has the beating of yesterday's highlights. Foodie, a tight bar, so no alternative but to queue behind two women with a toddler, ordering a complex / excruciating combo of food, soft drinks and coffees. My head is in the way of the specials board which doesn't help. I make friends with a sleepy dog blocking half the floor. Beer comes straight from the barrel , Bowman's 'Swift One' , it is the freshest pint so far this holiday. And with the masses choosing to eat outside, I find a very welcome cool side room opposite a handsome fire place. One bloke seems to be looking for the Gents .... up the chimney breast! Most unspoilt pub of my holiday? I think so. The stone flagged floors and 15th century rugs a highlight. But I cannot afford to linger.
Pub 2.75 / Pint 2.75 / People 1.75 = Total 7.25
And the reason I cannot afford to linger is that my second pub closes at 3pm, last orders 2:30pm, and it is a long way off, in extreme heat, on increasingly hilly roads which become potholed dirt tracks as I get closer to the pub.
It is brutal!! I have to go back to my Bude-Morwenstow hike for something comparable. I stop twice for a drink and a quick breather, even though I am worried about the clock, I don't wanna collapse! One stage takes me onto the South Downs Way and I have to march past these OAP walkers. People keep complimenting my walking speed! Feel like I'm doing London marathon. I go past something called Devil's Jumps, and the next bend is downhill, so I break out into a jog .... though trying not to trip or twist an ankle. 2:15pm when I arrive, made it with time to spare .....
Most idyllic backdrop so far, and there hav been a few. Welcome to Royal Oak, Hooksway (3099 / 5584) , the lunch rush is almost over, and the guv'nor is very welcoming. He has an interesting manner, catchphrase is 'well done!', You want to seek his approval, so it works. My first 'well done' is when I pay for my drink in coins. In fact, I get 50p off as a result. He tells me about rural pub life, the changing habits of his customers etc. , I could've made notes and written a thesis if I wasn't so bloody cream crackered. I cannot begin to describe just how good that first swig of Langham Session IPA was, like one of the best single drink sips of my entire life. Beer here is v.good. Slight let down is an obviously recent refurb. The peculiar striped carpet looked new. Loos no longer outside. I was expecting something altogether more rustic and ancient, but a cute cosy inn to drink in nonetheless, and that garden, wow, cooler day it'd even kick Nutbourne into touch. A couple cut it really fine coming in for a late lunch, but they are allowed. I make friends with their 13 yr old dog, Fudge. A few polite young chaps who look like they've stepped off University Challenge return their glasses from the garden, and head off, so I announce I'm off too, slapping on some suncream theatrically on my face. "Have you got enough water?" asks the guv'nor and Mr & Mrs Fudge. I tell them I've filled up my bottle (they had a little tap thing). "Well done!" says our host. My Hooksway experience had come full circle!
Pub 2.25 / Pint 3 / People 2.5 = Total 7.75
It is another painfully long walk to West Marden but at least I'm no longer against the clock, there's a bus stop between Chichester & Petersfield when I get there, and what is this, a cool breeze? Hurrah! It doesn't stop the first part of the walk being awful. Horrid hill out of Hooksway. Then a section of main road I don't really like walking down, but there's a grass verge, and it doesn't last long.
It then gets super rural and I barely see any traffic as North Marden becomes Compton via Beavis's Thumb ("Huh-huh, like my thumb's wayyyy cooler than your thumb Butthead you dickwad"), and with legs like jelly, I reach pub three.
Victoria Inn, West Marden (3100 / 5585) was dull as fuck. Can't mince my words after the efforts I've made today. Tolerance levels low. Plain dining pub, zero identity. Landlady only cheerful when I return my glass and tell her I'm leaving. I am offered nuts with my pint though, a nice touch if I wasn't allergic. It ain't by far the greatest Sussex Best the world has ever seen, but it doesn't give me any bottom trouble. Tbh, I'm that dehydrated, I've barely widdled today which is unheard of for me. There's a few bar blockers chatting the breeze, so I try to join in. They stand up and go outside .... and don't return. Cheers lads. Sometimes you go to places so rural, they simply cannot handle outsiders trying to join in. Just when I've given up hope of any interesting occurrence occurring, a tourist lady wanders in .... "I've found a stray black lab in the road outside!" I'm expecting our landlady to ask if it has a collar or something useful, but instead .... "IS HE A BIG BOY?" To which I start singing the Sleaford Mods bit on the Viagra Boys song of the same name. "He's a big big boy, and he's got a belly, in total contrast with your six-pack beach bods on telly!" Probably just as well the locals went outside. I leave to a scene of tourist lady, landlady and a heroic passing cyclist (first time a cyclist has ever been heroic) with a water bottle, ushering a confused looking black lab into a car boot to rehydrate him.
Pub 1.25 / Pint 1.5 / People 1.25 = Total 4
The next bus is going to Petersfield rather than Chichester, which might sound bad for me considering I'm staying in Chichester and much more interested in West Sussex ticks than Hampshire pubs, but on the plus side, I could get today's remaining three ticks done with minimal effort, and lord knows minimal effort was exactly what was needed right now.
First off, the pub I need in Petersfield itself ......
Probably an unpopular opinion amongst you beer geeks, but it was a delightful surprise to find a pub called the Square Brewery, Petersfield (3101 / 5586) identifying as a lumpy rowdy Fullers street corner pub, as opposed to a two-bit brewery tap serving 10.5% Square DIPA on key keg. In the late afternoon post-work sun, it is spewing out scaffolders and the insane, lost urchins and the malnourished, all in three quarter length shorts sporting Pompey leg tattoos, hairy feet poking out of old sandals, Mike Fillery haircuts, Paul Hardyman teeth. This pub has balls. This was a side of Petersfield I hadn't seen before and I was impressed. A huge improvement on that grey morning in the boring Townhouse last time I was here. The Spring Sprinter was effervescence quintessence, the beer quality really had picked up today despite the heat. It was a long way back to recovery from here, as some bloke once sang, but the pain of the Elsted to Hooksway trek was on the wane.
Pub 2 / Pint 2 / People 2 = Total 6
Havant was close to Petersfield by train, and I had two new ticks here following on from 2022's dire Wheelwright's which still holds the record for witnessing the longest unflushable log laid in any BRAPA pub toilet - as I commented at the time, the entire cast of Wind in the Willows could be seated on it. That wasn't all that was wrong with the pub either, but today would see Havant redemption.....
First up was my favourite, but the less famous / popular of the two, Robin Hood, Havant (3102 / 5587). The local undertaker has a field day here, scooping up the dead who've drunk their final pint, and rolling them across the street into the graveyard opposite. It is how I want to go in my 4,500th tick. You can't avoid London Pride forever when you're drinking in these 'so southern, you're practically French' counties, and I'm glad to report it is on top form here. Good Fullers house too, shiny mirrors, lending library and dark wood panels. However, I'm still a bit warm and restless so decide to explore the 'beer garden' (patio) and this trio immediately take me under their wing. The first lady (we'll call her Melania) has the same drug bucket hat as me, and shows me a photo. The dude has a cousin with a son living two minutes from me in York. Third lady Sam is the winner though, so friendly and intrigued by BRAPA that I let her do the highlighting - this pub had the human touch which had been largely absent from my day.
Pub 2 / Pint 2 / People 2.75 = Total 6.75
The shortest of walks, manna from heaven after today's pain, takes me to my final tick of the day, keeping the Fullers run of form alive .....
Hampshire is obsessed with naming their pubs Old House at Home (3103 / 5588) and I Havant a clue why (sorry) but I must've been to at least five by now. I read it is one of only two buildings to survive the 'Great Fire of Havant' and bits of it are made from the Spanish Armada. It really shows. A gorgeous pile. The 'Dark Star' Hophead doesn't drink too badly either, not one dead Chiswick rat floating in it. A win. What a shame then that everyone in here is strange or a nobhead. An army of young female staff stand in a group gossiping. They've all seen me, but takes about five mins for one to actually come over and serve me. In the meantime, a funny Dutch lady at the bar reckons I'm definitely smoking something because of my hat. I tell her not to tar me with her dopey Netherlands brush. Bloke walks past and says 'sort your hairline out ya fackin' mag' and I'm thinking 'harsh but true' but remember I have my hat on so he can't be meaning me, I look up and he's abusing some bald mate. I end up watching a football match, no idea who is playing until I look it up next day - Brisbane Roar v Central Coast. Looked a better standard than Hull City, worrying.
Pub 2.75 / Pint 1.75 / People 1 = Total 5.5
Time to head back to Chichester for some rest. BIG day tomorrow as, speaking of Hull City, we were away to Pompey in our bid to stave off relegation. I wasn't confident. I'd try to fit six pub ticks around it.
Join me next time for that one, Si
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