Thursday 2nd May, 3:37pm
The only 'taxi cheat' of my mini-break in Devon took me from the Royal Oak at Heavitree to Topsham, because it didn't make sense at rush hour to be trekking back into Exeter city centre when I'm on the Topsham side of town.
Still no Uber exist in Devon, so I had to ring a crackly man who sounded like he was munching a pasty, straining my ear to hear how long he'd take. 20 mins was that? Stressful!
But worth it, as I arrive at the pub bang on 4pm opening ......
Considering I'd been told earlier in the week that the Exeter Inn, Topsham (2789 / 4949) was 'a bit shit', I'm delighted to find in reality that it is every bit as good as the thatched mossy roof would suggest. In fact, with a 9.25/10 carpet and a cracking Thirsty Blonde (she's got muscles so it ain't sexist) , I'd rate this in my top five pubs of the week. Our only other customer tears himself away from Ben Shepherd's Tipping Point intro to fetch the guv'nor to serve me, who is lurking out back. Proper no nonsense Rochdale chap is our Pete (I think, though I meet so many Petey pubmen, I could have forgotten!) He's retiring soon so this pub won't be in next year's GBG. He has been recently starved of a good pub session so asks if he can join me for the rest of my Topsham trail. Of course, I say, on proviso he takes outdoor photos of me, and he says he'll take me to a pre-emptive too. The pub is filling up now and Tipping Point is being watched with the intensity of a Champions League final. Quite funny as I stand at bar and wait for Pete to get his jacket, he swoops back through, and to shocked faces from barmaid and punters, declares "I'm off pubbing with 'im, see you all later!"
After a trip to the pre-emptive Old Firestation (which I'll write about in September if it makes the cut) , it was time for the most highly anticipated pub of the week, a tricky outdoor photo as Pete keeps putting my phone into video mode .....
It doesn't disappoint. The Bridge Inn, Topsham (2790 / 4950) absolutely slaps you in the face with all the force of its heritagey unaltered history. I'm lucky enough to have been to quite a few of these rarities, but I can only recall three which have had quite the same 'power' on entering - the Blue Anchor at Helston, the White House Hotel in Peel on the Isle of Man, and the upstairs court room at the Hark to Bounty in Slaidburn. Sometimes, the tourism and 'charade' of these famous places dilutes it, but not here. Probable Pete asks if I want to sit outside or in, and I'm horrified he'd even consider outside! So we end up in this delicious backroom with bubbling fire. It puts me in mind of the backroom at York's Bluebell because you just instinctively chat to anyone sharing the room with you, which we did twice, as though you have a shared subconscious knowledge that you are experiencing something special. Even the Queen ticked this one before me, but she couldn't do it on a cold Tuesday night in Barnsley 'Spoons. Some pub this, you can't really describe it, you've just gotta go and 'live' it. What a way to bring up 62% of GBG completion!
Fast forward to Friday morning and I decided to take the skill level up a notch with an even more rural bus route. This was the 360, which takes in three outer Exeter GBG pubs, problem is there's only like three a day!
And even more problems follow as we encounter some unexpected road resurfacing going on south of Dunchideock. I'm the only passenger left at this stage, and the driver is livid because they are supposed to be made aware of stuff like this.
Half an hour later, after phoning his head office and liaising with the #roadmen, they finally move their blockade and let us pass! We arrive at the terminus in the pretty village of Bridford half an hour late, and I calculate I can still do what I need to if I'm quick, so I bound down the lane towards the pub .....
Although inevitably on the dining side, I was impressed by the Bridford Inn, Bridford (2791 / 4951) , the 17th century legacy was easy to appreciate in the dimly lit, heavy beamed, all encompassing main bar. A bloke called Ted is stood in front of the woodburner warming his shaky legs, he could well have been stood here for the past 300 years. The two gents in charge are hugely impressive, and the Cotleigh Seahawk is one of the best kept pints this week. The next couple who enter are sadly a bit too 21st century for my liking. The tone of her voice grates, and he wants to sit where the signal is strongest as he has an online meeting soon! Brie & bacon baguettes all round, anecdotes about a local guy who used to deliver fruit, wicketkeepers with bad knees, and Ted leaves just before me which means a very slow exit down the path out of the pub. C'mon Ted, time is against me!
But once I'm past Ted, it is all downhill (in a good way), a short 'bounce' to pub two just north of Christow, but oof no wonder everyone has such dodgy knees and legs around here.
The blokes outside the Teign House Inn, Christow (2792 / 4952 ) are a bit gnarly, so are the three hi-vissers wolfing down chicken burgers, but at least the barman has a demeanour like a timid kitten crossed with Nemo from Switzerland's winning Eurovision entry. The beer is made of a hop called Simcoe and I love it, and wonder if when I'm finished with BRAPA, I could open a microbrewery called Sim & Co specialising in Simcoe beers, but then decide it sounds too much like hard work. The pub is slightly more traditional than the Bridford one, excellent carpet, plenty of floor space - a farmhouse feel, you might say rustic. Thankfully, I hop aboard the Wifi and download the Stagecoach App which helpfully tells me how delayed the bus is (I knew after our problems earlier, it'd be at least a bit delayed!) So I grab a pint of the Exeter ESB and take it out front, where me and Dudley Duck can keep an eye on the bus as it turns around in the pub car park. Meanwhile, a beer festival is setting up for this evening. The bus arrives at the right time according to the Stagecoach app so I know it isn't lying .....
Photographic evidence the bus exists!
22 mins approx for it to get up to Bridford and turn around. The App agrees with this, so I wolf down my County Bitter and stand in the car park nice & early. A chap called Bob is waiting too, he needs to pick up a car in Exeter, so I confidently tell him EXACTLY where the bus is.
We get chatting to a beer festival lady. she's doing the pizzas and thinks we are brewers! I'm tempted to say we're from Sim & Co but Bob says no. Her main business is 'fire protection', they just do pizzas on the side. 'Wood fired pizzas?' I ask, but she says no, too much like hard work!
Where IS this bus? We wait, and wait, and wait some more. It isn't showing. I'm amazed. App reckons it is back past us on way to Exeter. All we can think is that because it was behind schedule, it got to Bridford, then just turned onto the main road and went straight to Exeter to get back on track for the late afternoon run!
I'm debating between a walk to the famous Nobody Inn at nearby Doddiscombsleigh, or an even crazier walk to GBG pub the Palk in Hennock, when Bob saves the day and phones in a favour from his friend Trevor who lives in the next village down. Bob mentions me too and Trevor is soon with us Result!
They drop me in Ide (pronounced Eid) with tales of how I'd see a Mumford & Son if I went to the other Ide pub, but this one is probably better ..... thanks to Bob, thanks Trevor, BRAPA legends.
Probably my favourite pub experience of the week, Poachers Inn, Ide (2793 / 4953) was a classic to almost rival the Bridge at Topsham. The low key landlord is a kind chap, a smoky smell is coming from the fantastic fire, the Branoc is a classic meaty drop, like Bovril in beer form, the loos are obviously outdoors, phone signal is weak and there is zero point asking about WiFi or you'd probably get laughed at. Speaking of which, top tier punters here. The couple with Gizmo the dog, and the slightly mad bar fly - "careful mate, he licks his own bollocks!" the latter shouts when Gizmo jumps up on my knee. "Don't all dogs lick their own bollocks?" I shout back. "Yeah, but this one is obsessed with his bollocks, obsessed!!" replies barfly. In a dog break, I find the loos outside. Of course they are. Not to be outdone by Gizmo, a French bulldog jumps on my knee next. And then, just when you think the feel good factor was maxed out, our mate from Part 1 Grecian Dave, fearing I'm still semi-stranded, arrives to buy me half a porter and drive me to a handy bus stop with his expert bus knowledge so I can get back into the centre of Exeter. My four day break really peaked here in the Poachers.
Join me tomorrow for our fourth and final part, as we complete Exeter, take a disappointing trip to Plymouth, and meet another BRAPA hero as we end the holiday in Newton Abbot.
Si
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