36 Good Beer Guide pubs ticked off on last week's little excursion to Shropshire, staying in an 8.75/10 Air B&B in the Frankwell area of Shrewsbury. 24 in Shropshire, 12 in Wales.
I spent the train journey home ranking them in some kind of order of enjoyability.
Don't sweat the outcome too much. I don't want any of your usual "Second from bottom Si? Disappointed in you! Me and the late wife enjoyed a lovely Chateaubriand and Liebfraumilch there back in the summer of '84".
Right, let's fuck 'em up, get into 'em .....
Bridge End Hotel Inn, Llangollen
My only cask fail of the holiday makes this an easy selection for last place. Llangollen is a pretty place, but by gum the pubs were abject! The barman is being forced to pose with a leaflet for a photo. He looks none too thrilled but goes along with it. "Your five minutes of fame on Facebook are guaranteed!" chirrups our photographer before scooping up his belongings and hurriedly departing. I'm too distracted by both handpumps being turned around to enquire 'What were all that abaht then?' My fears are confirmed. "Beer delivery delay". A Robbie's (Robinson's) pub no less. Random! He's a lovely lad though and points me in the direction of Nitro Plum Porter "if you like that sort of thing", served in an imposing phallic vase which shines a deep purple in the sun. Ironically, it'd prove one of today's more pleasant drinks. 'Hush' descends over this dull restaurant of a pub, until the gasman arrives, then an old guy appears and a new-on-the-scene barmaid tells him he's her favourite customer. When I return my glass, she smiles in a way that'd melt even the most caskless heart. But, as the Burton Albion fans sang on a Tuesday night last month, 'It's a long way back to Stockport when you're shit'.
On the bus route out of town, one step closer to Daddy BRAPA and an exciting aqueduct comes the most horrific pub experience of the holiday. It has avoided last place because much of the pain was inflicted not by the pub, but a customer. And the Magic Dragon bitter was second best pint on this atrocious Tuesday only eased by Hull City's win at Wrexham later that evening. It was the 'pubbiest' of Llangollen's weak trio, though with so many boutiquey foodie pretentions to make what happened possible. There's this lady. A small time social media influencer is my guess. Total spoiled brat. The kind who has never been told 'no' in her life. Three tiny 'cute' terriers. All over the furniture. The one with a bow in its hair is having a selfie session when I arrive, courtesy of her mousy bald partner. I sit nearby. I wanna witness the full pain. The staff hate her antics and entitlement but are too piss-weak to take a stand. Almost mesmerised by the horror I think! The customised doggie food order is the highlight/lowlight. "One actual sausage, a meat free sausage that isn't a sausage, and some meat scraps". When the staff can't deliver on this, it becomes chicken breasts. "How much do your chicken breasts weigh?" she asks. The staff think she's joking at first, but no, she wants to compare them against her middle dog when it was a newborn pup! The look on the chef's face whispering with the barmaid when I go to the loo is priceless. My sense of cringe only eases when a nice old couple walk past and ask if I'm 'enjoying' myself with a wink. I neck my beer quick as can be and find them two mins later at the bus stop, where we have a morale boosting chat, even if he boos me cos is a Wrexham fan.
Of the six Wetherspoons I visited this week, this was the only one in the current Good Beer Guide and the only one I can honestly say was undeserving of a GBG place! For all the predictable 'Spoons sneering, even their harshest critics can't deny that they tend to run a tight ship, but this ship was the loosest goose imaginable. Young bar lad pipes up "what time is it mate?", and when I inform him 3:49pm, nice n' exact, he punches his fist, and yelps "YESSSS, 71 minutes until the end of my shift, OH MY GOD it has been hell!" Looking on the bright side, I tell him that it seems to be calming down now but he points to a mountain of unmoveable empty glasses and dirty plates at the end of the bar to prove me wrong! The building has good age in fairness, though a chill-wind blasts through the old oak beams reminding my of that scene from Christmas Carol where Scrooge comes to visit Jacob Marley on his deathbed. Finding a booth should've helped with the comfort at least, but no, more whistling icy wind and sticky plates. To compound my misery, the beer is dreadful sloppy dark dishwater bleaker than a Dylan Thomas masterpiece. I hide the last inch behind a menu, second worst 'Spoons of 2026 after the Roebuck in Raleigh so far.
Hunstman of Little Wenlock, Little Wenlock
Inserting the place name into the pub name is an almost dead cert guarantee for the blandest of dining experiences imaginable. That is certainly true of my lowest ranked Salopian entry. Two barmaids who aren't unpleasant but display zero charisma or charm. Despite the size of the place, there is absolutely no discernible decent seating option for the solitary drinker. A wooden posing stool wedged in a corridor giving a feeling of being permanently 'in the way' was the best I could manage. Wasn't exactly busy either. One moody old boy sits at the bar. Two groups of tourists introduce their respective twogs, resulting in much drooling and arse sniffing ..... and the dogs didn't behave much better! The beer is decent Salopian Oracle, but I'd still be less bored painting a wall magnolia whilst listening to Mumford & Sons. What grates most is what a sweaty uphill effort it had been to get here, along the howling winds of the Wrekin, from Leighton, for so little reward. I had a poo late on. Look, I needed to take at least one positive from this and Ironbridge looks even further on foot. FML!
Aqueduct Inn, Froncysyllte
Resting on the laurels of a stunning location, I've witnessed this problem before. The Boat at Penallt. The Black Lion at Consall Forge. Granted, both are better than this but still basic. Yet folk are so seduced by the setting, they fail to separate it from the pub itself. That is why dear reader, I have more genes than most pub reviewers. A dispassionate honesty which makes me special. Thanks, I knew you'd agree. It is oh so promising on first glance too. The walk here had been even more stunning than expected. I wouldn't recommend it six pints in, that aqueduct is scarily narrow! The main middle bar into which you enter is superb, low beamy and yellow. And the guv'nor who looks like Dave Miller off of Hull City supporting and is just as lovely, accompanied by a welcoming toothy local, bodes well for my experience. But the areas left n' right ain't all that. Right is just a loo and a dark enclave with space invaders machine. And left a modern bolt-on with view of the aqueduct. The Shropshire Gold is dire. So tired, I only finish it cos Speedie taxi's seem to be being driven by drunk David and I got a second wind. Daddy BRAPA met me here. His arrival was my highlight. Great that he got to witness a special location. We wait outside for the taxi so we can scran half a cheese & ham roll I've brought with me, and the tatty decaying outdoors / pub garden(?) is further evidence of a pub that needs a kick up the arse / investment. Stick this pub in a Leicester backstreet and it never gets near the GBG.
A ridiculously huge chunky front door handle leads me into this well meaning Brunning & Price converted flour mill, the highlight of which is an army of smiley hard-working staffers who buzz about genuinely enjoying life, though it becomes overwhelming after a while. Part of the reason for the 'overwhlem' is also the reason for much of the building's charm .... an up and down affair rather than one sweeping large baronial hall. It is split across three levels and gives the impression of drinking on a helter skelter. I opt for the middle floor where there's a second bar, but I feel ill at ease, a blot on the landscape despite the constant smiling. And there's not much opportunity to 'escape'. I don't dislike B&P as pub chains go, but another common problem is poor beer. Too many on. Hardly any variation in style. Everything seems to be a 3.9-4.3% pale/light brown ale. And most people drink Prosecco in B&P houses, so no surprise the quality struggles here. I neck my pint to ensure I can catch the earlier bus to the Sun Trevor because no way I wanted to spend hour here.
Bottle & Barrel, Aberystwyth
We end part one with a glimmer of hope for the future (part two), and I think it is important to tell you at this juncture that I'd rate this six day BRAPA jaunt as 'above average' so don't get discouraged by the pubs I've written about so far. Not a whole lot wrong with the B&B, in the brilliant town of Aberystwyth, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it is ultimately going to prove a futile tick. A bar and bottle-o which will close down long before I reach my 100% target. Flimsy. Slightly too grey. Felt fleeting. I'm counting down the days 'til Jim Brunt drops a message in the tickers WhatsApp group announcing it's long term closure, with a link to a page of phony Facebook comments 'a great loss to the Aber drinking scene' & crying emojis, bemoaning the death of the pub like we've witnessed the closure of Anchor High Offley. There's some invigorating fiddle music playing which adds a Welsh coastal atmosphere and the Turning Point is a better standard (and cheaper!) than it is in York's misfiring Falcon Tap. The barmaid, no doubt a student cos 98.7% of Aberystwyth are, a pleasant soul. My three fellow drinkers are dour blokes, I try my best to make eye contact with the Wrexham fan (this was the Sunday two days before the game) and 'get my badge in' but he ain't having it, preferring to extol the virtues of Belgian sours and beer festivals in Cambridge like most people who frequent places like this. Never hear them discussing the troublesome second half of the 1989 Home & Away second season do you? Makes you think. Still, looking on the bright side, this place might become a dog grooming parlour, then a funeral directors, and revert to another bar by the time I finish the GBG!
That was part one, and it was cathartic to get it off my chest.
Join me for seven more pubs in part two, pubs that might be boring but aren't terrible.
Kind regards, Si
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