Christmas 2025 (24th - 27th December)
Ho, ho, ho, MERRY CHRISTMAS (retrospectively) from my default position squashed in the armchair behind the Christmas tree at Mummy & Daddy BRAPA's pile and what a smashing seasonal Brew York that was. Gin and Tonic? Dry Martini? Pah! #NonBeerWomen!!
I lost the annual snooker tournament 3-1. I'm blaming my 'Enfield Hand'. Still bad, I couldn't grip my cue properly at the back #AlwaysGetYerExcusesReady
Fast forward to Boxing Day, and it was troubled Sheff Wed away. Ivor Panda is ready, are you?
I've been patiently holding off on my five required South Yorks ticks until such an eventuality as this. Sadly, my Sheff central one wasn't open, neither was the highly pre-emptive new Thornbridge, and one is so southern, it is practically Derbys.
That left three. Two pre-match and a later opener (which changed its mind about today's opening times some time in mid-December).
Rearing up on the horizon in a peculiar hilly village near Rotherham, we came to our first .....
Red Lion, Thorpe Hesley (3207 / 6048) was my last South Yorkshire 'miss' in a GBG, though you have to go back to Covid era Beer Guides to find it. I'd read last year that it'd had a spruce up, was winning seasonal CAMRA awards etc. So no surprise it has returned for '26. Classically down to earth, and whilst there's more than an element of 'food / family fun / catering for all comers', it is pure 100% community pub because, well, Rotherham proximity. We make sympathetic noises as the barmaid complains about having worked every waking hour over the season, and still had to cook Christmas dinner at home, do the washing up, give orphans presents, slide down the chimney etc etc. After a chilly start, the place warms up. Taylor's Golden Best on song. Then Black Sheep Respire, which was posing as Farmers Blonde due to landlord miscommunication. I even sup a Ghost Ship with time on our side. The carpet an exciting but a peacocky 8/10 evoking dirty L**ds. Speaking of which, Brum's desperately unlikeable manager Chris Something is on the plasma upsetting us. No WiFi? You wot? This ain't bloody Steventon or Aldworth lads. It had been sturdy boozery South Yorks fun.
Outer Sheffield was calling, I tried very hard to spot Dad's favourite model railway shop but after much intense looking, it turns out we were on the wrong road anyway.
As if one Itchy Pig isn't enough, we now have Itchy Pig 2 Banner Cross, Sheffield West (3208 / 6049). The original had some of the tinniest acoustics I've ever encountered, so I'm pleased to report this was calmer, more muffled, the heating has been ramped up, and despite poor seating options, comfier. The barmaid is lovely but seems incredibly shy and her cheeks go bright red to match her xmas jumper any time someone talks to her ..... a drawback working behind a bar! The Honeycomb Stout tastes more like smoky coffee, Dad's inspired Scampi Fries purchase weirdly 'pairs well' with the beer. "It's like being back in Millwall!" he whispers. And I know who he's referring to, the two old guys with cockney accents. What's their game? I look at my Flash Scores football app for clues. No fixtures jumping out. Perhaps just southern owls or tigers? Alas no, as they return their empties, they reveal to our blushing host that they are Good Beer Guide tickers! Despite my GBG laying on the table in plain sight, no one spots it and I don't get chance to join in. They've not done the Harlequin before (amateurs!) so are off there next. Well well well.
A hungover Hull City limp to a 2-2 draw against the ailing Owls who I thought looked a real decent side (said no one ever this season), but on the drive back to York, our third tick is now open and ready for our custom.
I smiled when I saw the South Yorkshire Bramley had made the new GBG during my cross-ticking.
My Grandma's (the Bridlington one I mentioned recently) second husband Bramley Hoyland Wheatcroft (Grandpa Bram) was so South Yorks, he was named after two places here! And a lovely chap which was nice cos my original Grandad Desmond (not a West Indian barber) died when I was a baby.
There's a real hustle and bustle about the Yellow Broom, Bramley (3209 / 6050), not a micro that'll live long in the memory but I'm glad I got it done. Dad's gone to park so I enter alone, 'Farmers Belgian Blue', rapidly becoming an 'iconic' winter beer if you live up here. Last year, it had become too pinky purple fruity and was verging on Strongbow Dark Fruits. I wonder if someone complained because this newer version is noticeably darker, silty and bitterer, may as well be a different drink! Too much. Happy medium lads. Dad arrives but some dork (friendly as he is) has wheeled a giant German Shepherd (does it wash its socks by night too?) into the tiniest space and Dad's now worried he'll have to become some kinda contortionist when he reverses out of his stool, to step over dog and leave. Thankfully, they go first and we get a nice clear run at the exit.
Boxing Day evening was spent back in York, and it would've been uneventful had Mummy BRAPA not passed me a bowl of boiling mushroom soup on a slidey plate, which I spill on my groin to add to my recent ailments!
The following morning, having stayed overnight, I bandage up the two blisters that have formed, and bribe Daddy BRAPA to drive me to York station early with promise of coffee and croissant which he probably ended up paying for.
He's off back home to bed (very wise), so alone to King's Cross I go, then a change for a sunny but icily windswept Brighton.
Ready for my first ever pub tick on 27th December, meaning Christmas Day is the only day in the calendar year where I haven't ticked a pub ..... will it ever happen? Don't rule it out.
Despite our South Yorks day, I have no hangover. But maybe a Hanover ..... THANKS!
No one told me how bloody hilly it was. The only time I've previously been aware of Hanover was when watching 'The Secret Life of Cats'. I can only assume cats love living in hilly areas.
Sweating like a fat lass when I arrive at Haus on the Hill, Brighton (3210 / 6051), and with no staff to be seen, I spend the first few minutes removing as many layers as is decent, laying everything out on a bench, GBG, mascot etc. like I'm setting up camp. An attractive two roomer (or is it 'distinct area-er?) when the barmaid finally appears, she calls me 'lovely' from behind her knitted layers and is surprisingly welcoming. Even my one fellow drinker chirps 'awite' at me, but he isn't anything like Michael Barrymore, no one is. The seasonal Anspach & Hobday (who sound like a posh soap company) is excellent, like diving into a lush swimming pool and being buggered. I should've put that on Untappd. I'm suddenly chilly again, so some layers reapplied, but not too many so that I don't go back into the icy windy Brighton air. Most of my time in this pub was spent taking off clothes and putting them back on. The sign of a classic.
Back down the hill into vaguely more central areas (look, I can't grasp Brighton geography okay) for tick number two ......
Brighton's mad obsession with the word 'haus' is almost as intense as their obsession with willies, Waitrose, gluten free veganism and owning a labradoodle and bread maker. It continues here at Brighton Bierhaus, Brighton (3211 / 6052). A tonal shift (thanks Steve) from the previous pub, but a goodie. Like a holding area for blokes of a certain age who couldn't quite accept Christmas drinking was done, it is a full of stodgy wideboys who love a good sweaty roar. I had a brief 'New Bristol Cinder Toffee Stout' panic, "is it on?" but the barmaid assures me it is, this particular pumpclip just likes to flop backwards. Phew, perhaps the BEST beer I've tried in the last five years, and great here. Although the barmaid hadn't been particularly forthcoming, she's identified the old guy near me as potentially lonely and in need of some chatter, which I can see he appreciates, even though he probably has more friends than me! Nice touch anyway, from another strong Brighton pub.
Brighton is probably the town I'd least expected to include a Wetherspoons in the Good Beer Guide, I'd certainly not considered the prospect previously. But as I've been learning for the past year or so, EVERY Wetherspoons is worth ticking 'just in case'. If the one in Hastings can get in, anything can.
The world's least threatening bouncers let me past, and I'm not quite sure why they are on because their game v Arsenal is away from home, perhaps they are expecting a bunch of ladz to rampage around town looking for a TV to watch it on. If Brighton has ladz? Post & Telegraph (3212 / 6053), amazingly not called the Haus & Telegraph, is unsurprisingly above the national 'Spoons avg, I thought it'd have to be considering its inclusion in a strong pub town. A semi-upstairs area allows me some personal space, nicely polished ledges looking down onto the standing masses and twitchy blokes drinking triple JD's on the fruit machines. Tonnes of strong dark beers is a range that impresses me most, Burning Sky excellent as we all know it can be when arsed. The carpet's a rather underwhelming 7, but on the whole, I felt quite at home here.
Brighton fully ticked for the first time in my life, hurrah!
Two more East Sussex before I head back to London. I'll tell you about that one on either Sunday or Monday, more likely Monday. Though it is already written.
Then we'll get stuck into Notts on Wednesday. Operation 'blog catch-up' is going great guns.
Kind pub regards, Si
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