Thursday 17th October 2024
I'll keep this brief(ish) as I've been suffering from flu-like symptoms which I caught from some filthy Londoner on my way home from Epsom last Sunday.
On a glittering sunny Thursday morning, barely a cloud overhead, I change at dreadful Seamer ready to tackle my first North & East Yorkshire ticks of the 2024/25 season. Ivor Panda is bidding to oust Old Man Colin in 2025 to become premier mascot. I can't see it happening myself.
The expressions of Filey folk were warier than usual, still recovering from a recent visit by a group of Minneapolis pub lovers, whilst I wondered just how I hadn't visited this pub before .....
Brand new to the Good Beer Guide is Station Hotel, Filey (2766 / 5251) or 'Top House' but it had dyed-in-the-wool stolid fortitude etched all over its trad. features. Tiled entrance gives way to a central bar, rooms dotted off in each direction. Landlord is your archetypal warm Yorkshire host. "Ow do, ey up", a brilliant jacket potato of a man who has been cooked to perfection and drizzled in melting butter. Two ladies exploring the premises with clipboards shuffle off so I can get at the handpumps. Rudgate Ruby Mild. If ever a beer matched a pub, it was here. The usual blast of Eurythmics is postponed in favour of a Bryan Adams medley which no asked for, but content was I. Was I? Yes. End.
Bridlington next, always will have a soft spot for this town which makes Filey feel like Harrogate-by-the-Sea.
The home of my late Grandma Betty. I only managed to have one BRAPA conversation with her before she died, but her knowledge of the pubs of Walkington, Lund, South Dalton and the like showed what a dark horse she was. Brid 'Spoons Prior John, one of her favourite hangouts. #PubGran
Whether she's watching down on me when I visit Brid I don't know, but it always seems to come up trumps, and then some. Same again today after a slow start in Brunswick Hotel, Bridlington (2767 / 5252), a warm cosy plush hotel bar - the room front is sun kissed with a rouge & cream 1930's Bordello theme which made very little sense. I may have been better with the locals in the pitch black back bar where a lot of chuntering and wheezy laughter was coming from. Barmaid ain't a people person, in fact she positively discourages one bloke who is determined to tell her about his trip to watch 10CC and try London fish & chips. He downs his Guinness in five mins and leaves. She looks relieved. She hadn't pulled the new barrel of 6% Scarborough Fair through enough either, bit cloudy but I soldier on until the day's second heroic guv'nor appears, a real 'chestnut roasting on an open fire' of a guy. Squinting from long range, he cries "DON'T DRINK THAT YOUNG MAN" (ooh young, I'm honoured. Still, this is Brid where avg age is 88). I'd already had half but he pulls me a fresh one. Much better. Barmaid doesn't look even slightly sheepish. Then he prods his GBG poster and says "aye, that's why we're in this book" and I say "aye, that's why I'm here". Thanks ghostly grandma, thanks Brunswick, not bad for a first entry since 1982 (thanks Jim), I have to drink quick and then run back to station, with 1.5 pints of 6% ale sloshing around inside me.
No such excitement at today's final tick, inland at Driffield, another town I keep thinking 'surely the GBG can't find any more pubs to put in', and then always manages it ......
This 3pm opener soon becomes 3:03pm and I'm jiggling around outside desperate for a pee when the door finally plops open. Spread Eagle, Driffield (2768 / 5253). Inside is devoid of colour with grey and magnolia dominating. Atmosphere soon warms up as the first few mouth breathers follow me in to watch the horse racing. I'd therefore argue that the locals make it a proper boozer, and that goes some way to repair furnishing faux-pas. There was one major high point though, for a third time today, the landlord. A real 'Black Country cheese & onion cob tightly cellophaned & put on a Brierley Hill bar' kinda dude. Really into his ale and interested in the GBG - notable cos I'm not sure it has ever happened in my East Yorkshire BRAPA experience before. "Paaarnt of laaarger for two narnty narn" is all you normally hear. I tell him a dreadful anecdote involving my friend, an Untappd check in and a rare Great Newsome beer which really was a case of 'you had to be there'. I feel so embarrassed by the words coming out of my mouth, I let him to the highlighting AND give him the #BRAPA handshake. It was no less than he deserved. A debutant GBG pub with potential. Which probably means we won't see it in the GBG again til 2050.
So a swiftish day, but it is a start - all four quadrants of Yorkshire green this season has to be the aim. No hurry. I change at Hull to get home. Why is the station such a confusing mess? Why is there no loo on the train? Why did I order such a large coffee? Why does it sometimes feel like the country is going to the dogs?
Sweet dreams, I'm off for a swig of Night Nurse.
Si
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