49 Good Beer Guide pubs ticked off on my recent summer jaunt down to Devon, and I spent the train journey home ranking them in some kind of unscientific order.
We'll kick off the first part with those pubs which didn't impressa me much at all.
49. Talk of the Town, Paignton
A £2.3 million recent refurbishment, not to mention the normally reassuring presence of a mobility scooter all boded well for this gigantic chaotic Wetherspoons which I visited with Pete Langdale and Grecian Dave (pictured above) on a warm Sunday afternoon, one of four ticks in tatty Paignton, a sort of hot Bridlington. It was horrid. My round as luck would have it and getting served was a trial. Not enough staff by far. The beer I chose had a pump clip of a topless beer bellied bloke with a gun sticking out of his pants. It was symptomatic of the whole experience. A huge characterless barren one room wasteland of dross. Even the brand new carpet was deliberately faded from the get go, why would 'Spoons do this? But at least it gave Dave a 'unique carpet post' on the Facebook group which he is part of! Not one person looked happy to be here.
48. Holly Tree, Exmouth
I walked twenty minutes out of the town in where I'd based myself to find the first pub of my holiday with all five handpumps turned around. Only in BRAPA!! The locals are odd, watchful, and slightly defensive when you dare question the total lack of ale. A guy in a tropical shirt which doesn't reflect his Oldham skyline in Feb mood tells me the cooler has broken and ".... you can imagine how hard it has been trying to get someone out to repair it!" At least I didn't ask the barmaid. I overhear her admonishing someone "....don't start! It is the start of my shift .... I'm not responsible for this!" Maybe put a sign up if you all hate people asking a reasonable question? A warmish bottle of London Pride is my final solution. It isn't a small pub but the layout and furniture arrangement is such that it is very hard to find a satisfactory seat despite the many options. A pool table in my eyeline and a strong (if weird) local contingent stop this place from being bottom. Just.
47. Totnes Brewing Co, Totnes
I walk in to find our long haired ginger host, a sort of young happy Alfred from 'Guess Who?' flicking through the 2024 GBG with a furrowed brow. 'Augers well!' I thought at the time, but with hindsight, it was probably more 'how the 'eck did we get in that?' I go for their Citra. Looks dreadful. I ask him. 'Unfined, supposed to be hazy' he tells me, but this isn't just hazy it is murky sludge with that horrid thin wispy head that never ends well! Tastes sour , a bit like bad cider. I expect folk on TwXtter to tell me I've been unlucky, but to my surprise, some reply with almost identical beer experiences to me. "I'd hate to see the state of their cellar" says one reader. I scare a barmaid getting lost trying to find the loo. "I thought you were a ghost!" she says. Third time I've had this. For balance, staff are lovely, and as Brewery Taps go, care has been taken to provide a comfy, deep interior with some nice rugs and soft edges - not the usual Alien Probe / Pret a Manger bench rubbish you get in some. And not entirely unlike the outer rooms at the Shilton Vaults near Hinckley. I force down about two thirds of the pint, then I can feel a rumble and my bowels feel like they want to depart my body, so I burp deeply, clench buttocks tight and head back towards the station.
46. Park Inn, Kingskerswell
The knowledge that this uncompromising tucked away estate scare-hole had been the scene of a murder the previous year might've got into my head a bit, but in any case it wasn't the most welcoming pub of the holiday. Barmaid glares at me, locals disappointed they don't recognise me. The bar snakes around the narrow pub in a sort of Scottish island set up, and the general decor is 'dumping ground for bric-a-brac' chic. Even the Sharp's Atlantic is moody - lacking the usual citrus effervescence in favour of something darker and sterner! The garden is a nicely done space, very Charlie Dimmock (until I read this is where the death happened - two 76 year olds - Daddy BRAPA would never!), though I'd had to battle through a plume of blue bottles in the smoking area to reach it, where Romania are thrashing someone in the Euros. I smuggle a bag of Mini Cheddars once I'm safely outside and notice the bench I'm sat on is dedicated to a dead lady. An outlier in terms of the style of pub I visited this week, and one was enough!
45. Powder Monkey, Exmouth
It wasn't a good week on the 'Spoons front, only one of the four were up to scratch, and this place suffered from that poxy boxed in seaside town ambience. I'd pitch it midway between Margate's Mechanical Elephant and St Ives Hain Line, and if you've been to both, you'll know this isn't the sort of compliment you would pay a dear loved one. Ocean blue walls, huge rooflight with sun beaming down onto every shimmering bald head in the joint. A suffocating mess of posing stools and little else. Barmaid grumbles that the handpump of the beer I've selected is an awkward one and I apologise for inconveniencing her. She tuts. Dark Arts. That's the name of the beer, but could also be what she was mentally wishing upon me. Well kept in truth. Late morale booster as a bloke sidles up to ask about Colin. Apparently the local greengrocer has all of Colin's relatives in his shop.
44. Brunswick Arms, Dawlish
We'll end this tale of woe with a pub which was both comparable to Exmouth's Holly Tree and Kingskerswell's Park Inn, except it had ale and lacked a sinister edge, hence the higher positioning. It was a local pub for local people though, and a dullard at that. Decent staff and although Otter beer disappoints me I'd say, every 1 in 2 pints these days, this 'Bright' was a good drop. But with another higgledy-piggledy pub layout, I secrete myself in the sunny window seat and being 7th pint in, I'm soon chuckling away at 'Simon's Cat' videos on YouTube. Well, the Mummy of the Daddy n daughter playing pool beyond me seems to take a dim view and scowls at me on a regular basis like I need my hard drive checking. I breathe a sigh of relief when the trio eff off after much dilly dallying, but then realise it is even duller without them. Could call last orders really I'm thinking - though it would appear from the above photo that all the action was outside, something I didn't realise at the time.
So I hope you enjoyed hearing about the pubs I most suffered in. Next time, there is a certain upturn in quality, after all the majority of pubs I visited last week were a cut above the national average.
Not sure when I'll be back. Tomorrow (England), Wednesday (meeting an old friend), Thursday (discussing Hull City fixtures with Daddy B.) mean Friday is the next real opportunity, and even then I might be too tired from a long week, but I'll try!
Take care, Si
Glad I missed all but 1 of those!