BRAPA .... THE TIGER WENT IN TWO BY TWO, HURRAH! HURRAH! (COMPLETING TYNE & WEAR AGAIN)

Saturday 22nd February 2025

GBG progress : 10/10

Football outcome : 10/10

Beer : 8/10

People : 7/10

'Pubs' : 5/10

It was a successful day in the North East, but not the easiest. I guess when you're a Tyne & Wear ticking veteran like me, there comes a point where you've done all the classics, and anything new is invariably going to be a micropub, random club or wild card. Whereas, if I popped of to a BRAPA area of neglect like say, Suffolk, I'd unearth ancient gems and you'd all go 'cor, you never been to Bury St Edmunds before Si?' and I'd be like 'shut up, no!'

Replacement car service

Just like last week in Essex, the dreaded 'replacement bus service' threatened to de-rail us around Darlington but quick as a flash, Daddy BRAPA decides to drive us up to Sunderland instead which I hope will benefit BRAPA later on too. Plus Dad wanted to be home early today (more on that later) so it was win win.

After a nice bit of breakfast .....

...we park in this fantastic new multi-storey carpark (well as fantastic as they can ever be) opposite two legendary pubs, the Museum Vaults and the (Ship) Isis.

Both look very open at 10am, it is a 12:30 kick off, and in a lucky break, the one tick I need in my third favourite place in the UK (I was a student here and still get a pang of emotion every time I return) is a 'Spoons.

Sort of surprised I'd not done it before, but worked out nicely today ....

Opposite the Priestman building where I met my marra John Watson II in a boring sociology lecture (the building is haunted by the ghost of Danny Kendall off Grange Hill #BRAPAFact) , Cooper Rose, Sunderland (2978 / 5463) is a heaving 'Spoons and the bar area is a scrum of red & white shirts. No queuing, cos Sunderland people are proper people. Dad uses his elbows and 60 years of pub experience to jostle right in, and is still able to selflessly assist a dim witted but friendly Mackem in getting served first. This character (no wonder he struggles to get served, he's always looking AWAY from the bar!) tells me he can tell we're not local, as long as we aren't from London, too many stabbings and very unfriendly, no one says hi whilst stabbing you, they barely look you in the eye. Not sure he's ever ventured further than Washington , like. There's zero guests on (Doom, Ruddles and Abbott) and I'm not sure the Abbott is in its prime, I neck mine like ripping off a plaster, Dad hides half of his behind the condiments, there are no free seats. Carpet a fruity pungent 7.5 but let's just say leaving the pub was the highlight. Not a patch on the other 'Spoons Willie Jameson's on this showing.

Thankfully, there was still time for a pint in Museum Vaults before we head over the bridge. My third visit, and the most I've appreciated it. Dad's debut here and he said had he known how good it was, he'd have never have walked to the Cooper Rose with me! Solidarity? C'mon Daddy B! As it turned out, the MV would also eclipse all today's six ticks by a country mile.

Time for the match, and to our surprise from a very high vantage point, we only go and win! And play well too. Such a strange team this season, much better away than at home, especially against the teams higher up. But we can lose to anyone at home. Even whoever you support who I bet are bloody dreadful.

Took an long old time to get back to the car and out of Sunderland. Daddy BRAPA was heading to Majorca for some yummy Estrella with Mummy BRAPA on Mon morning, so he wanted a curtailed day. Fine, he'd help me complete the Wearsidey area and then I'd mop up the Tyne on my own.

First up a trip to the coast, Whitburn, everyone seemed to be heading to the same place. "IT ONLY GOES TO THE SEA!" I kept wailing, but no one listened.

Kids circled the front on their bikes, and having avoid being run over I squash my way inside Blues Micro Pub, Whitburn (2979 / 5464) to find enforced queuing to the bar - tiny space, heaving, nowhere to go. Awkward smiles in anguish all round. This was the one Tyne & Wear tick from the 2024 GBG which had eluded me and I'd made the mistake of building it up in my mind as some Butchers Arms at Herne. Truth was, it was bang average. Though hard to see it in its best light today I'll admit. Having checked their Facebook, I knew what I'd be drinking. Stay Puft Marshmallow Stout by Tiny Rebz. And I knew who'd serve me. Barmaid of fierce eyeliner and manicured nails. The FB comments under that post made me laugh/cringe. "OMG, is she real?" "Is she AI?" "So pretty!" wail the Whitburn Simps (a rubbish version of the Seaburn Casuals?) though I think one was an old woman. I resist the temptation to ask her if she's AI, and instead ask if the pub has an upstairs which to my relief it does! Dad arrives, trudges up, and I follow him with the Stay Puft. They haven't done a lot to make it pubby up here but at least there's room to breathe. I can tell Dad is less impressed, exacerbated by two twilds flinging themselves onto the leather sofa on which he's sat! Their Dad "boys will be boys!" Errm no mate, control your children! Across the room, a man in a green hat remembers a meal he made that no one liked involving fish and rice.

When Daddy B's smile ain't genuine , you know you're in trouble!

A short ride to East Boldon for Dad's finale hurrah / adios but panic stations as I spot WhatPub claiming a 6pm opening time! And only updated as recently as 6th Feb. Seems unlikely, other sources say 12 on weekends, so we pull into side of road and I ring them. A rarity for me.

Well, she's quick to answer and from the background kerfuffle, I don' even need to ask to know they are VERY open. And when I do ask, she's like "whatya on about marra, course we are?!"

We park at the far end and walk up the side of the pitch when it looks like we could've got closer, but never mind, it was all just in keeping with this highly frenetic / never relaxing day. Boldon Cricket Club, East Boldon (2980 / 5465) is the club equivalent of the Blues Micro. Kids stuck in the entrance door, blocking doors, playing a visible version of hide n seek, a struggle to get past without giving the little shits a kick. Club room is packed, old blokes and yer typical Boldon women who look like they work in tanning salons, nail bars and doggy grooming centres. It truly is the Wilmslow Knutsford of Tyne & Wear. I apologise to the barmaid for my phone call. "Oh, it was YOU WOZ IT?" and all the old blokes look round, should never have admitted it. I explain it came from CAMRA's WhatPub site and it might be worth their while contacting them to get them updated to prevent further confusion. "Oh, well as long as it wasn't us who put it wrong, haha!" she laughs, and I sensed I wasn't getting my message across so take our delicious Maxim guests (pint of the day til I reach Byker) over to Dad, who once again is looking hemmed in and glum in the glaring sun. The pubs weren't helping today, but his head was already in Majorca, or at least on the road back to York, I could tell. I neck it to prolong his agony no further.

In the shadows, woah woah

Daddy B's final act is to whizz me round to Boldon Metro station, from where I catch a train to Newcastle Central, compose myself with a wee, and get myself to Chillingham Road which took a bit of jiggery pokery at Manors or something.

Chillingham Road is 'alive', in a Shoreditch kinda way. Geordie Shore-ditch? I made his joke at the time and it deserved greater plaudits. It has certainly had a 'tonal shift' since I came to watch Groovie Ghoulies at The Chillingham pub in 2003.

I'm worried this place is going to be Heaton Tap which I did a couple of years ago under a new name, location is very similar, but when I reach it, I don't recognise the layout.

Alrite mate, you got your 5 seconds of BRAPA fame, settle down

Symptomatic of the day we'd had so far, I just cannot find a seat at the Elder Beer Cafe, Heaton (2981 / 5466) and with Daddy BRAPA texting to say he's made it home safely ready for his Ploughman's, I'm happy he's not suffering through this. Barmaid can't raise a smile, pub is made almost entirely of chipboard, everyone is either 65 or 21 years old, all at their lovely little tables loving life, but woe is me, as I'm forced to wedge myself between bar and narrow corridor leading to loos and a smoking area packed with hyperactive students. I sit Ivor Panda on the bar and actually talk to him, it weirdly keeps me grounded! Finally, a man with face tattoos, huge rucksack and a young greyhound says hello to me as he tries to squeeze everything into a single toilet cubicle. At least the Wylam was a good drop.

Can we turn the Good Beer Guide into a Good Pub Guide please? 3,000 entries, pub description limited to five words like in 1974 ("basic boozer for low life"), book the size of a brochure, no brewery section. Might be the first motion I've passed in Torquay since I had that dodgy fish supper in 2004.

(Reading RetiredMartin's recent blog whilst writing about this place sparked that comment!)

Ivor, Ivor give us a song!

It's a short trip to Byker for tonight's final ticks, both brewery taps which is VERY Byker in the 21st century, it ain't all about dickhead kids in a youth club these days.

I nearly catch a bus but it is stuck miles away according to bustimes.org so I shin it on down to the Metro, just one stop I think, almost walked it.

I miss the 'private party' notice and the picture of a school boy on the door (hopefully a birthday party and not a wake but in BRAPA, wakes do follow me about) .... this big sister/Mum duo are quick to pounce on me and tell me to shoo. I'm just about to ask if I could stay to neck a 'quick' (23 minute) pint, I'd been in here 2 mins already, when to my relief they tell me there's another bar upstairs. PHEW! Altarnun could never. Welcome, finally, to Full Circle Brew Co Taproom, Byker (2982 / 5467) and you know what, a welcoming smile, one well kept cask beer and a bench all to myself with no jostling means I'm as happy as I've been all day. It didn't take much. And listening to beardos have serious beer discussions is kinda reassuring, like when a loved one behaves in a predictable way and you roll your eyes lovingly. I'd been thinking a late unscheduled overnight stop was going to be required, but I couldn't find a hotel with any room near Newcastle for less than £120, so when I discover a cheap train to York via Thornaby about 20:30, I'm thinking I can still get this final tick done and make it .... c'mon, no slacking now!

I scoop up Ivor, highlighter and the GBG and leg it around the corner, where our 'county clincher' can be found in a slightly more central Byker location .....

This was more your trad. huge cavernous one room affair at Two by Two Brewery Tap, Byker (2983 / 5468) but there's a modicum of warmth and atmosphere to get me through. And I know from past experience just what great beers Two by Two produce, but pretty much all hazy pales now I think about it. So to find a Porter is a bonus, it positively slides down like a snake with the face of Faustino Asprilla. Less pleasing was the amount of Twildlife around, running amok, many of them with pool cues. Ever since that Beerblefish disaster, brewery taps have become a playground for insane kids. And in such echoey surroundings as well, it is not ideal. Banning order please, and for their Twarents. But on the whole I'm in good spirits, highlighting my final entry I hear a voice at my shoulder. It is the bloke I met when I was ticking the Grove at Huddersfield in my debut year, we bonded over weird pub snacks like grasshoppers. And last year, I bumped into him again at York Beer Festival. Top bloke. My final conundrum is where are the loos. I walk round for ages, I go so full circle I was nearly back in Full Circle. Eventually ask staff. Outside across carpark. Like they're trying to be the Plough & Harrow at Monknash with a bit of Scotch Piper Lydiate. Nowhere near, but still decent way to finish. Now let's dash!

And the great thing was, I didn't have to rely on public transport to get me back to the Toon because Google Maps says 34 minutes on foot, which is less in reality, and my train was 45 mins away. Nice and easy.

Same couldn't be said for the first leg of the journey, Saturday night Teesiders are a terrifying but brilliant bunch.

Train two is delayed to York and at one point, disappears from the board completely. Don't' cancel on me! It didn't, phew, back home about 23:30, you'd have to call the day a huge success even with some ropey ticks.

See you Monday/Tuesday when I'll tell you what's hot in East Lancs.

Si