Welcome along to Friday night pub-ball. Unless you are watching this on catch-up (i.e reading this on Saturday morning). Ooh, I'm getting into this a bit too much!
Last time out, Newcastle's Wobbly Duck and Castleford's Doghouse joined Rothley's Woodman's Stroke and Byker's Tyne Bar in the quarter final draw, and tonight, we've got two more fixtures for you.
First up, a local derby in that awkward NW corner of Leicestershire that is practically Derbys in disguise.
Jolly Sailor, Hemington v Flag, Castle Donington
As a pub ticker, there is little more satisfying than visiting a pub on foot with no train or bus symbol showing in the GBG, and achieving it without breaking sweat. The Jolly Sailor was a short uphill walk from Castle D in a cute village through some woodland and fields. I wish Norfolk's 'no bus, no train' pubs were this easy! I could see that famous red triangle on this, National Bass Day, before I'd even stepped inside. The two blokes behind the bar are welcoming geezers, the one on the right says he wasn't quite prepared for my action shot. I say I'll take it again if he'd like to pose? A genuine question, but he just laughs in a pouty butch Leics bloke kinda way. My hopes of sitting inside are dashed by two shaggy stretchy dogs, filling most of the floor space in the only promising room. Nae bother, there's a covered marquee with a green carpet reminiscent of the Falkirk Stadium playing surface. An evening chill has descended, but circumstances help me cope. The lacings on the Bass sticking to the glass are class #PubPoetry. The staff, perhaps sensing the need to improve my experience further, turn the music up to 11, a great move as 'Step it Up' by the Stereo MC's is pure nostalgia to me, transporting me back to late night Championship Manager Italia games on the Amiga, Liquorice Catherine wheels and Lemon Hooch. An angry German Shepherd across the carpark HATES every other dog in the world, giving a volley to abuse to the previously sleeping stretchy ones, now on their way out, plus those passing for an evening stroll. Hemington is one of those places where if you don't have a dog, you are not a real Hemer. I return my empty glass, two more secs of jolly bantz, and I'm on my way.
I trot back into Castle D proper along a country path, following, you guessed it, two huge stretchy dogs attached to humans with long limbs. I'm unware of course at this stage that these two pubs will ultimately be pitted against each other.
Flippin' eck, it is heaving in the Flag on this Easter Saturday evening. A mini micro, I try to let a man pass me going the other way. "I'll only have to wait for you, and catch you up at the bar!" he says, and he reverses. "Oh, does he mean he's in charge around here?" I ask some locals. "He likes to think he is, ho ho ho". At the bar, I ask what he'd recommend, meaning beer. "I recommend you turn back around and leave now!" he roars, laughing and prodding me gingerly in the ribs. One of life's characters! If you own a busy micro, it helps. We've seen it before. The locals often take their cue from the people in charge. From miserable SE London to snoozy Dorset to affable Tyneside to generous Notts, you can always see the parallels. This guy is ace, does his best to welcome me into the chaos, very aware I'm on my own, now wedged beside the bar with nowhere to go. He asks how come I've done all the other GBG pubs in the area before his. "Your awkward opening hours" I tell him honestly. He says 'fair enough'. A Forest man with a red nose is getting nervous for the rest of the season, two leather party ladies are accused of always being on the 'night bus', and a buzzy tiny bloke with an element of Aaron Connelly appears. He shakes my hand possibly thinking I'm 'one of them', this is as close I get to making a connection with the punters. It is frustrating, symptomatic of my time in Charnwood and North Leics, within reach but not quite grabbable. Not being able to reach Colin from the depths of my bag probably didn't help. I find solace in a 2019 pub GBG even more battered than mine, and read every information leaflet on the shelf, whilst remaining semi-engaged on the off chance someone does speak to me.
Right, I'm giving the win to the Jolly Sailor. I feel a bit bad for the Flag, cos the owner was so great to me, but it was such a chaotic, uncomfy, slightly awkward experience, despite 'feeling alive!' and besides, they were lovely in Hemington too, the beer was great, and I quite enjoyed it in my marquee.
Onto tonight's other fixture ........
Anchor, Walton on the Wolds v Quayside, Newcastle
The Anchor was the first pub of my Easter Saturday epic. An awkward one to get done, Saturday is the only day that makes sense if you are aiming to do this by public transport. It doesn't open until 5pm midweek, by which time the buses are winding down. National Bass Day of course, so to see it in my very first pub was a bonus. A year ago, I was in Manchester at the Punk Festival and was really scratting around for one, eventually only finding it in a scary pub called the Unicorn, and I wasn't sure it was great quality. Easier, friendlier, more delicious pickings in the East Midlands. I ask the barmaid if she's aware of the day. She isn't. She shouts over to the three Bass drinking codgers to tell them. "If we don't get a discount, it isn't worth it!" one shouts back. I go all deadpan poker faced and ask if a discount might indeed be possible. Nice try Si, she is far too wily for that one! The bloke nearest me is worried I might be getting 'lonely', so lets me join them - my best experience of 'humanity' in a Leics pub to date. A fourth, even chirpier old local arrives, he's just back from the Bay of Biscay and wants a proper pint.
Gorgeous pub this, and the best locals of the weekend.
Over in Newcastle, I had to shout Daddy BRAPA back to pose, which made a bouncer chuckle. It was that sort of a Good Friday lunchtime ......
Quayside is a fairly new build Wetherspoons on you guessed it, the quayside! Too many 90 degree angled corners, slim dark corridors and staircases, I felt permanently lost here. 'Twas my round, so I could use my 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th Mudgie vouchers of the new season. The barman is a proper perky Scrappy Doo type - really liked him. Me and Christine had been using our Wetherspoons App to decide our beers in advance, and I still chose wrong, getting something weird Adnams-Swiss which I just couldn't get along with. "Wahey, £7.84 for 4 pints, you cannae beat that!" chirps Scrappy D. I'm glad the gang have gone to sit outside, hectic and stifling inside though I'd been expecting worse! And in the shadow of one of Newcastle's zillion bridges which aren't quite as nice as Wearmouth Bridge, we have a nice outlook. Now, you've all heard about 'Spoons legendary upstairs toilets. Well, I think this is the first time I've walked up one staircase, found the ladies, not the gents, bumped into a barmaid on the stairs feeling confused, and she tells me I need to go back down, follow the end of the bar, and then ascend a DIFFERENT staircase. Utter scenes. Not sure I did this many steps the day I walked from Bude to Morwenstow.
Again, I don't need the dice to help me decide the outcome here. Anchor wins out. And I'm glad to say it was more about it being a very good pub, rather than anything the Quayside did wrong.
Join me on Sunday at 9pm for the final two games, and I'll whizz through the quarters, semis and final whilst I'm there as I should have a bit more time with it being the weekend. If I can get my ironing and food shop done fairly early. Sounds like a plan, eh?
See you over on Twitter for some (very) outer Blackburn ticking tomorrow afternoon.
Si
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