BRAPA .... SHIRLEY YOU CANNAE BE SERIOUS (Scottish West Midlands Double)

Saturday 11th October 2025

Victoria Hotel, Norham (3066 / 5907)

Outdoor drinking on the Scottish/Northumbria border in October? Who says the polar ice caps melting is all bad? A friendly pub but with limited space, plus Dad's sudden craving for a smuggled Melton Mowbray pork pie and a fine village green and such warmth, outdoors was a no-brainer and made a mockery of Bath's Coeur de Lion barman who claimed 5th September was the last warm day of 2025. And an excellent Jarl made a mockery of that slop I'd had up in Auchencrow earlier. Ancient guy from the Fishers Arms in Horncliffe reckoned we should do the other village pub whilst we're here, but it was already a heavy day. I'll almost certainly pay the price in a future GBG. Pubs. You shouldn't ig-norham.

Why does Owlie McB look terrified like the Jarl has him cornered?

Cross Inn, Paxton (3067 / 5908)

The look of a man full up on pork pie

Our new mate Hurricane Katrina from Allanton had told us we'd enjoy this one, a 100% guarantee, and she wasn't wrong. 'Hardworking' was my lingering impression of the Cross. A youthful and quite camp vibrancy (shut that door! they did) without being cloying, a modern breath of fresh air without being irritating, even for the most curmudgeonly buggers amongst you. Some super strong Hadrian & Borders guestie even eclipses my Jarl for pint of the day so far, A* perfection. Dad's half n half coffee was a thing of beauty. Owlie McBurnie starts showing off (too much sun in Norham) by balancing a Stabilo on his head but I'm not including that photo to teach him a valuable life lesson.

Ship Inn, Eyemouth (3068 / 5909)

Being a thoughtful son, I hadn't pushed Daddy BRAPA to do this tick. Our furthest point north, and on a decent bus route, but when he'd been highlighting my Paxton entry, he'd said it'd be a shame to leave it when we were so close. What a man. It is sadly though, today's weakest pub. Like so many seaside town tourist shite boxes. Light, airy, but also stuffy and suffocating. Rubbish low settees. We end up outside again, and a lot happier. Dad's 'crisp round' is also inspired, Pipers crisps are always great but have rarely tasted better. Mainly because today's third Jarl was a lame duck. Not as terrible as Auchencrow, but not a patch on Norham. In the voice of Partridge .... STOP GETTING JARL WRONG.

Black Swan, Belford (3069 / 5910)

If missing Eyemouth would've been 'a shame', missing Belford would've been down right stupid. I didn't realise quite how far south of Berwick it was, felt like we were half way home and my original plan to stay up here overnight, getting Dad to ditch me at awkward but no longer GBG Slainsfield suddenly made no sense. When I return from the loo and Dad says "you may as well come back home with me", I'm so relieved cos I was thinking same whilst widdling! In fact, we had a very off-season family barbecue booked in for the Sunday. This is pub of the day. Traditional, carpet of 9.5 magnitude, spewing good atmosphere and spongy bench seating. The beer is to die for. Motorhead Porter by Metalhead. Tastes like Rose Chocolates coffee creams from the foil wrapper days before they went woke nonsense, fond(ant) late 80's Christmas memories. A great way to end a really interesting car day. Wasn't all great, but there was plenty more good than bad and somehow I only needed one widdle on the long journey home which can only have been a dehydraton thing.

Saturday 18th October 2025

With my week in Glasgow on the horizon, I swerved #ThirstyThursday so that I could pack & plan / research pub opening times, bus routes etc. but I still made it down to Brum with Dad on the Saturday.

My original objective had been week in Shrewsbury, going straight there after Birmingham but I've got a Scottish bee in my bonnet this year as you've probably noticed. Shrops is on the agenda for Spring '26 which I hope to combine with Wrexham away.

I really should've joined Dad at St. Andrews for our away game, but the churn in West Midlands was a cruel as any county, so I forced my own hand. Damn you GBG, I missed an amazing 3-2 win!

Train chaos (cheers DrossCountry - though maybe work at York station was to blame, I can't remember) meant we had to drive down, using Shirley as our staging post.

If you read my month end blog, you'll know 'Spoons mindfulness is the new buzz phrase of the 2025/26 season, and the Pump House, Shirley is exactly the sorta thing I'm talkin' 'bout. Arriving 10am, too early for the GBG entries, I notice Shirls has a 'Spoons. Feels a modern one. Airy, verging on chilly, 'enough to save us from getting too relaxed' says Dad like it is a plus point. The beer is tired. Highlight is a kid popping a helium balloon which reverberates up through this high ceilinged echo chamber. It has the Irish, Palestinians and Ukrainians under the tables and the rest of the pub having near heart attacks. The lad himself, the only one totally unmoved. No way I can see this making a GBG any time soon, but I said same about Hastings and Chichester and they've both proved me wrong.

A 20 minute walk through residential back streets has us waiting nervously for our supposed 11 o'clocker to open as it looks very shut on arrival .....

Say what you like about Ember Inns, and I usually do, but at least they open 11am, or 11:05am in the case of Woodman's Rest, Shirley (3070 / 5911) - a first GBG appearance since 2011. Perhaps because the Ale Hub chain are boring the beards even more shitless than Ember's, or the rumours they are on the brink of closure has put off the local CAMRAs. Impressive was how an old guy is already propping up the far end of the bar half way down his pint, when we witnessed the front door unlocking. He must've climbed in through a toilet window. It is standard Ember fayre, but more 'open plan' than the Fieldhouse over in outer Solihull, or even Willen near MK, which kinda helps it feel acceptable. The carpet is more 'Stroud of urine' than Shroud of Turin, but 6/10 in any case. I recognise it from North Hykeham, Lincs #deepcut. Mad Goose Purity a vast improvement on the 'Spoons ale. So not too bad all in all, and probably not the real Rod Stewart is playing a gig later.

Back from whence we'd wandered, my other Shirley tick is a noon opening micro.

Out of the corner of his mouth, Dad informs me he's nipping back to the 'Spoons due to a loo related situation which he thinks 'Spoons might be better equipped for than a Micropub. I get the gist. Ironically, my mate Ben is in Whitley 'Shitley' Bay as we speak. ..... NEVER FORGET .....

Funnily enough, this micro had an 'interesting' loo sign which sounded more like a threat than a promise!

But the staff couldn't have been friendlier at the Parkinson's themed Shaking Hand, Shirley (3071 / 5912) which maybe should be renamed the Shaking Penis with all this loo hoo-hah. It feels like the beer has been ordered in by Tandleman, such is the Oldham-Rochdale corridor of the ales available. A John Willie Lees Stout is bostin' and I get called a 'gud lad' just for being polite. Wish all parts of the UK had people as nice as the West Midlands. Go east of Coventry and you are so much more likely to find socially inept characters. Don't @ me, whatever that means, it is true and you bloody well know it so pipe down. Poor Daddy B. arrives finally, expression a mixture of relief and past trauma. Not ONE 'Spoons cubicle had a working lock. Big John would be fuming. Ironically, the single cubicle in here is very lockable and very spacious. You just can never tell in this game.

Time to drive back to Shirley station (further than you'd think), park up and get a train towards Brum.

Dad alights first I think at Bordesley to join the football traffic - god speed my son - and I stay on 'til Moor St and take a bus to a 2pm opener which has been living rent free in my head for three years .....

The GBG informs me that Hop & Scotch, King's Heath, Birmingham (3072 / 5913) has won Local Brum Pub of the Year three years straight, an impressive achievement when you consider the competition. So why was it so interminably dull? Devoid of any customers bar me on a Saturday afternoon? Lacking any comfort or warmth? At least my breakfast stout tastes like smoky sausages, and the barman, considering he must be bored witless is pleasant enough. Not enough to chat, like. But I wasn't in the mood anyway. Oh well, at least it was a massive monkey off my back, possibly even an ape or orang-utan.

Stirchley wasn't far as the crow flies, and despite a double here almost two years to the day (Wildcat Tap and Birmingham Brew Co) it had only gone and bloody stuck in two new ones, I tell West Mids .... the cruellest of churns.

Nothing boring about British Oak, Stirchley, Birmingham (3073 / 5914), an uncomplicated uncompromising 1920's roadhouse, 3* on the N.Inventory, brimmed to the gills with Saturday afternoon ladz loving their Saturday afternoon sport and bantz. A frustrating tick for me in that, back on that 2023 day, I'd photographed it walking past for a TwXtter follower who'd mentioned it, commented on its majesty, but I never once thought that popping in for a quick pre-emptive half might be expedient. The ale ain't one of today's best (greasy, too much fizz, though the staff had boasted about its brilliance!) but the mosaic floor is a 9/10 and the old guy I share a table with seems terrified of Ivor Panda. My sense of well being increases as I glance right at the big screen to see The Tigers are in front early, then a chap called Dan recognises me off that BRAPA thing I do (oh, this!) which is nice. Toilet trip makes me realise I could've headed left to a quieter side room, but I've made my main bar bed and I'll lie in it. Brum equalise just before I leave, boo. But I can't afford to tarry.

I'm sure there's some kinda time slip occurring in the outskirts of Brum because no matter how quickly I drink or get myself from pub to pub, I always seem to lose an hour and end up doing one less pub that I ought.

So we end this blog on a beer high but an everything else low at Attic Brew Co., Stirchley (3074 / 5915). It felt like there was some offer on where if you were a young bearded Dad and brought your child in a buggy or strapped to your chest, you got 20% off on all DIPAs! The place was rife with irritants with ants in their pants. Pub queues formed, fizzled out, then re-formed again. And with the autumn air dropping to even chillier temperatures than Shirley at 10am, I decide to stay in the main bar so at least I can benefit from the halogen heaters buzzing away above me though this meant not sitting down for the duration. This 3.4% Figment is a bloody banger the likes of which I've not supped so far today. One Daddy stuffs his mouth full of Pringles he may've smuggled in from home despite the enormity of 'street food', gives Ivor Panda a nod suggesting both might know each other from the Freemasons. Look, I can respect the place, doesn't mean I like it. Not since Beerblefish E17 have I been in a brewery tap which set my teeth on edge so, and that didn't end well, let's hope Attic doesn't go the same way. Oh, and Hull City are winning again, yippee.

So yeah, I definitely thought that as I left Stirch by train for Moor Street, I'd be able to whip in either my new Hockley or Brum Central tick, but time caught up with me, and although we didn't see each other until we arrived back at the car in Shirley, Dad and I were on the same train.

Highlight of the journey home was a Ginsters and bottle of Lucozade Sport at Trowell (I think) services.

All good, and a steady early beer finish was probably for the best because I was off up to Glasgow the following morning. Which I'll start trying to tell you about this coming week.

Keep it pub, or brewery tap if you're that way inclined, Si