BRAPA : ROYSTON AMAZEY (DESCENDING THE BROAD STAIRS DAHN TO MARGATE)
Is Ramsgate Kent's best pub town? Maidstone is surprisingly strong. That Deal/Walmer area is insanely good. Dover has flashes (probably flashers too). Tunbridge Wells has posher moments of quality. Folkestone I love as a town itself, pubs not bad. Any I've missed? Gillingham? Joking obvs. Oh hang on, Faversham. That really could be joint with Ramsgate.
We'd said farewell to Sir Quinno, and Colin cried all the way to Broadstairs, but cheer up mate, pub of the day is upon us.
Textbook example of how to 'BRAPA pose' under pressure
The impressive waistcoated host takes us under his wing from the word go at the mightily impressive Royston, Broadstairs (2821 / 4981), one of the newer Micro's in this corner of Kent. I had actually been recommended it as a pre-emptive last year when failing to enjoy the nearby Magnet in quite the same way. 'First time here?' 'I'll talk ya through the beers even though you haven't asked'. This was the personal touch which makes Kent micros stand out from the UK micro crowd. It filters down into the locals, a happy open bunch. A toothless old soak soon appears at my shoulder to say I REALLY should've gone for the Ossett/Oakham 'collab'. But I needn't worry, this Coast to Coast Floc Corner Land must be one of the best pints I drank anywhere in May. Wilde Child and a Kent Dark Mild too, rare for me to go all gooey over beer cos it all comes out the same colour in the end, but I really could've stayed here all afternoon. Now the old blokes are doing that Kentish 'we don't have a local Premier League team' schtick and start talking about Spurs in Chelsea in that guilty 'out of the corner of the mouth / furtive glance' way which screams 'yes, we know we should support the Gills, Maidstone, or the Tunbridge Teen Angels'. Always amuses me. The pub has fake bookcase cushions, and spider lighting (and a BIG spider stuck to the ceiling) and yet I'm not in the remotest bit annoyed! As Dad goes for a final wee, mine host gives me a Trip Advisor card which I know I'll lose, but I figure 'what would you prefer, another dull Trip Advisor review viewed by thousands or a glowing BRAPA report read by 20 people?' Don't answer that!
Our final stop of the day takes us to Margate, a messy town and the daytrippers are still flocking in late into the afternoon. Daddy BRAPA decides to have a break from the pubs and go in search of Tracey Emin's unmade bed at a local gallery. #CultureVulture
I'm forced to follow a loud topless cockney with his bum hanging out of shorts all the way down the prom, but thankfully he disappears before I reach my first of two pubs ......
Had to gently usurp a dilly-dallying couple I felt I vaguely recognise from the doorway of Fez, Margate (2823 / 4983), one of Kent's more decorated Micropubs, in more ways than one! An absolute feast for the eyes and the Google Pixel lens, full of bric-a-brac and curios. It really is supremely done. However, today at least, it lacked the personal charm of the Royston, Butchers Arms, Just Reproach and other bonkers Kent micros of BRAPA past. Cardinal sin in my book. Barmaid is so functional and moody, she may as well be working in a Greene King roadside diner in rural Norfolk. And the trio of Tolkeinesque blokes I join on the flip up cinema seats just give me a po-faced glance and grunt. To paraphrase Jeremy in Peep Show, that wasn't very Kenty! Most of the trade are day-trippers passing through, jolly enough but all a bit station tap transient. After that crazy hazy ale in the last place, I was desperate for a trad bitter, and the Fez House Beer, brewed by our old mates at Romney Marsh, is a great drop well kept. So on the whole, a must visit pub, very nicely done, but just got the sense the pub is maybe resting on its laurels / believing its own hype. I see it a lot in some of York's older famous (non GBG) pubs, and also occasionally in the heritage set.
Tunnocks AND Sooty - impossible to dislike
So one pub left, and I'd saved the messiest until last .....
The carpet is the winner at the Mechanical Elephant, Margate (2824 / 4984), focus on the carpet and maybe everything else will disappear! Why are there so many hyped up African folk in? As manager of Ghanian second division side, the Cape Coast Ebusua Mysterious Dwarves on Football Manager 2024 , thankfully I felt right at home. Lady next to me gets a tray of Tequila shots in. "This is Wetherspoons .... it's cheap, but you can't expect the alcohol strength to be the same as in other places!" she tells her mates, before sticking a slice of lime in her mouth and asking a barman where the salt is. The whole exchange makes me snort my first sip of Purity UBU through my nose. She seems to appreciate it and giggles politely. Why does Purity UBU never taste like it has its own personality? Different everywhere I go. A cute man in a fetching hat arrives and for no reason, asks our possibly Ghanaian friends if he can buy them a round of shots. They agree, like ladies who are used to this happening! He then starts talking AT me, for far too long, so I tell him (rightly or wrongly) that he's earned the right to talk to THEM now, so he does, and I scarper to a seat at the far end of the room where he can't find me, but a cultured up Daddy B finds me a few minutes later!
The long train ride back to St Pancakes is spent having a fascinating chat with a Canadian couple, and even better, there is time for late ESB Parcel Yard refreshment ......
In fact, ESB is the only cask available as the Manchester football fans (cup final today) have drunk the Pride and others dry. Dad ends up on the fizz instead. Heathen! A grumpy Man City lady in a Haaland shirt gets cross when the 'Inspector Sands' announcement gets stuck and keeps repeating.
Train back is a nightmare! Over an hour we are stuck in KX station waiting to depart, full of Northallerton based Man Utd fans singing rude songs about Coronation St characters. Thankfully my new headphones, hot sausage roll and bottle of Oasis did their jobs.
And that was that, a really great day if you ignore the last bit. I'll hope to be back tomorrow to tell you what is going down in the outskirts of Chesterfield.
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