Blog Tracker
06-10-2021, 22:03
Visit The BRAPA site (http://brapa-4500.blogspot.com/2021/10/brapa-counts-bassies-staffs-part-2-of-4.html)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuS3m7O4IXGcO1Ahfs20NJyQRdMeHr_6E68TwDfIaJ1-kIHazmksORxWvR-nhfvA-dbJvc4xHk8jwSR3JTqToLPZdglyYBMKm9zLtZjJ13W-BffL-gJNvJMdwgqDceMm0nJ4uFoQBQFqoJjCeePlFqnA7dcrG7ONul-aKaKQ6Vf65FBWKW6UbO_CM4qw=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuS3m7O4IXGcO1Ahfs20NJyQRdMeHr_6E68TwDfIaJ1-kIHazmksORxWvR-nhfvA-dbJvc4xHk8jwSR3JTqToLPZdglyYBMKm9zLtZjJ13W-BffL-gJNvJMdwgqDceMm0nJ4uFoQBQFqoJjCeePlFqnA7dcrG7ONul-aKaKQ6Vf65FBWKW6UbO_CM4qw=s4032)
Today's quest saw me aiming to break my three year old record of four consecutive pints of Bass in BRAPA pubs. If it was achievable anywhere, Staffordshire was the place to do it.
And it was 1/1 early doors in Green Man, Milwich (1967 / 3396) , a pub so remote, I'd been delighted to come up with a public transport solution (obscure bus to place called Salt, then long walk) until I realised said bus only takes the Salt route about thrice a day.
A taxi it was instead, my driver was a 'character', bemoaning all the shut boozers en route, but bemoaning even more Petrol Crisis 2021, which was dominating the news this morning. We were joking about what I'd do if the pub wasn't open, but arriving at 12:05pm, a wide open door reassured me. Yet he STILL felt the need to poke his head out of the car window, and shout at the landlady who was doing some essential pub work in the beer garden "THIS LAD IS WONDERING IF YOU ARE OPEN!" (I'm not wondering, I can see it is). "Well if he looks, he'll see the door is wide open!" she replies. Talk about getting me off on the wrong foot! I'm the the first customer, and thankfully the landlord is easier to please, as I order a Bass, a beer he's a fan of, he's been here since 1990. 27 consecutive GBG appearances too. I'm very shortly joined by a gaggle of old locals, who all sit centimetres away from me on the bench, some to my left, some right, but almost zero acknowledgement, despite a bloody great cauliflower, beer guide and Stabilo on my table. I try and join in the chat briefly, but they'd rather speak through me! Verging on rude. Is this peak middle England? Why this lot are also so apoplectic re the petrol crisis I'll never know, sinking about 4 Bassies in the time it takes me to drink one, where are they planning on driving? When did they last leave Milwich? The guv'nor is the only person I like here, occasional smiles, he claims getting Bass on has been tough due to a CO2 shortage and we all should be thankful. At one point, he wipes the blackboard, rechalks it, but it is fainter than it was before! Locals are passing each other newspapers over my head now. I return my glass, say goodbye and leave. Absolute crickets.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFCWdOWHTACFcFC-47UGBHKWfhoEcFBBjJV5W35xq85KEykEWZ3j-3TXrR8bX9Mk6yE6uxTnVv9PYsofrb9yLrgZ2kWlxQ0g-Uox9DhXyUun94oLAb_oRmt-IzLSjArNo4LdYkIkzqEv3UitCnup40GUduggOGqUV1mPTsXMQA iLFTM6zbsL-iVN0n6Q=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFCWdOWHTACFcFC-47UGBHKWfhoEcFBBjJV5W35xq85KEykEWZ3j-3TXrR8bX9Mk6yE6uxTnVv9PYsofrb9yLrgZ2kWlxQ0g-Uox9DhXyUun94oLAb_oRmt-IzLSjArNo4LdYkIkzqEv3UitCnup40GUduggOGqUV1mPTsXMQA iLFTM6zbsL-iVN0n6Q=s4032)
A happy scene
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Before the locals arrive #1
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Before the locals arrive #2
It is a long walk back to the main road junction, plenty of time to chunter under my breath about weird insular village folk, and get it all out of my system. Gorgeous pub though, and good beer.
After passing a few farms and lots of angry pheasants, I take a right turn onto a busy road and just pray the pavement holds out.
It does. Well, right up until I need to take my life into my hands by crossing and turning into the village for pub two.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNswZa35iekrIucmI9f_eKsd1yEi9FHTXa9s-3AItl5DOf1REiDfqsljHD-AWBjeapJvlT-Bw2aAPpgZbtCEhorrKVkAYNLdFlrUZQe2fZ4M7lI2ygflZdjcn 85WVNG-x7MvgVTENX7IAzV-8wmpkxKtn-_Bkljg4lL_tBLtPlvdqIqsY9afuQ1SaK9Q=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNswZa35iekrIucmI9f_eKsd1yEi9FHTXa9s-3AItl5DOf1REiDfqsljHD-AWBjeapJvlT-Bw2aAPpgZbtCEhorrKVkAYNLdFlrUZQe2fZ4M7lI2ygflZdjcn 85WVNG-x7MvgVTENX7IAzV-8wmpkxKtn-_Bkljg4lL_tBLtPlvdqIqsY9afuQ1SaK9Q=s4032)
And with not many properties in this little hamlet, the pub is easy to spot, all twinkly with little fairy lights flickering on the outside.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmNQJADbtnw5BRGEGzYKGnCsBdtocL-d-E6HM17Q2IbH3UtjWhe_AFHJuhO_prtRLjCB-vR2Y8uLFVWudV4n7C5KHoK6yY8XErb5ShXS9CfY5uh1xI-5qAIWtKWzn1v5bmZXTFlTCA8yU71QvcXBQ3pJbtkIMxXPTFZeD NgzFCD25JCzof0kVclOyFOg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmNQJADbtnw5BRGEGzYKGnCsBdtocL-d-E6HM17Q2IbH3UtjWhe_AFHJuhO_prtRLjCB-vR2Y8uLFVWudV4n7C5KHoK6yY8XErb5ShXS9CfY5uh1xI-5qAIWtKWzn1v5bmZXTFlTCA8yU71QvcXBQ3pJbtkIMxXPTFZeD NgzFCD25JCzof0kVclOyFOg=s4032)
It opens up into a fairly characterless indoor space, I can't say Greyhound, Burston (1968 / 3397) is going to be a contender for pub of the weekend, despite a sunnier welcome from the landlady. It is Marston's too, thus denying me a second consecutive Bass I'd been hoping for. Having said that, the ale quality is spot on, the 61 Deep sure drank well, it needed to! Pretty gastro otherwise, the only 'atmosphere' created by a spate of incoming yappy dogs blocking way to toilets from bar, and children asking their Mummies for sweeties. It is exactly the sort of pub you'll end up in the baby change by mistake, and that's what I did. At least I could take solace in the fact that two blokes opposite me, discussing aquatic birds, looked like they could've stepped straight off my Twitter page and into this pub. We exchanged a few friendly words, mainly about twilds and twogs. The low leather settee isn't doing much for my 'drinking posture', which soon needs to be dialled up to 'Down it, Down it'. Having miscalculated how many miles Stone is from here, and still unclear on the 'pavement situation', I've tried ordering an Uber taxi. Not too confident, such a hit and miss company. But this time, it pings in seconds and a bloke says he's only eight minutes away. I still have three quarters of a pint to drink. But I make it, and leave with a big belch and bye bye to our bird lovers.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvJK8MKGiZ6SBhlYqylwxg_hc74CMtkUW3nljMPNw9OL ZCZsJHi1HJ3PIUEVp-F29rn1WcsljFadSySxWckVc7mOZKX7niypQqq0iXAy49OMLq91 N5MMzS_Sv9MfJpGtwHJab5L6HzIR5ooqOZKpiGsNYKhDOXOYhB OTNdSxD6CDgsK1QcjPGaiH8RsA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvJK8MKGiZ6SBhlYqylwxg_hc74CMtkUW3nljMPNw9OL ZCZsJHi1HJ3PIUEVp-F29rn1WcsljFadSySxWckVc7mOZKX7niypQqq0iXAy49OMLq91 N5MMzS_Sv9MfJpGtwHJab5L6HzIR5ooqOZKpiGsNYKhDOXOYhB OTNdSxD6CDgsK1QcjPGaiH8RsA=s4032)
Aquatic legends - and I don't mean Colin
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggZ_rlu1UTl72H-fl2QDSDBN7IL-BlvyoAhIaKybDoR4GzyhH2gc9TghgaCIlHo6G9WVEhGUJ3mL3C 0NfDI_u9np64V2FG8FvYf9495EWYOGoX9NBQ0FNlFo0WqNI86r QM2Z7fS2TEPBcCBf1JRxVwGnd7JkeZH9KFQcXDK4oKTg0BnUaB k3FvwgNKGw=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggZ_rlu1UTl72H-fl2QDSDBN7IL-BlvyoAhIaKybDoR4GzyhH2gc9TghgaCIlHo6G9WVEhGUJ3mL3C 0NfDI_u9np64V2FG8FvYf9495EWYOGoX9NBQ0FNlFo0WqNI86r QM2Z7fS2TEPBcCBf1JRxVwGnd7JkeZH9KFQcXDK4oKTg0BnUaB k3FvwgNKGw=s4032)
I love owls but no thanks
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmP3kkz-_SAPrGI5_g41WkJ7dgGqy7GifhX2qpsnEuI1AvJDhbr3fftphr iyRrmqeQ_YWL4X3B-fQYtcM6yPUEzOTHRM0sQoG8CaciOiL4ngso9UP3EEtU_aYjZAQ 4OBPmD5V3drvLuFvZsktdwoWFkApXPCb911eH96VXu-I7WwNXCKL9-e9lBg3PWA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmP3kkz-_SAPrGI5_g41WkJ7dgGqy7GifhX2qpsnEuI1AvJDhbr3fftphr iyRrmqeQ_YWL4X3B-fQYtcM6yPUEzOTHRM0sQoG8CaciOiL4ngso9UP3EEtU_aYjZAQ 4OBPmD5V3drvLuFvZsktdwoWFkApXPCb911eH96VXu-I7WwNXCKL9-e9lBg3PWA=s1769)
What can we see through the pub window?
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWIJ_G3Xa4goWLCtIBGJYOpFIDU0KQ5fX8ZFgidTDcxK esYVy5UyKuWpuCrvW6hdkKFaDN7lSI2Sb4KFE-kJA9ww600MIx7guHw-UMbyzJ8w7m5pJ3Hw4grMNWbRwSOAYBnBlIkHure0f9P-fL00q8B21YubwQekEi5Hm-aCjzTD-zg0IR8YSRK10iqA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWIJ_G3Xa4goWLCtIBGJYOpFIDU0KQ5fX8ZFgidTDcxK esYVy5UyKuWpuCrvW6hdkKFaDN7lSI2Sb4KFE-kJA9ww600MIx7guHw-UMbyzJ8w7m5pJ3Hw4grMNWbRwSOAYBnBlIkHure0f9P-fL00q8B21YubwQekEi5Hm-aCjzTD-zg0IR8YSRK10iqA=s2502)
Handbag dog orders lady owner a pint of Pedigree (chum)
Uber driver doesn't say a word but is incredible efficient, dropping me off at my Stone outlier at 13:57.
A lady is sat outside, I step up to take the picture ......
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiI_nbyL12Hmdwo5riJCM2m8FMfnJWiQE8rXyogwc3CCe pcd91qRCPa1o7Q_sdNiBxmz1sTT0I038Mc7TG65YCTk3nLHj73 kFoTfoAZFA9Y9TcyHklGQltsWug4GEPF8m7lo6KJ2dX1R9n43I RM9jt2OVSjZY47N0sZMN6p4DHv4ixhixneOhobA-KNsA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiI_nbyL12Hmdwo5riJCM2m8FMfnJWiQE8rXyogwc3CCe pcd91qRCPa1o7Q_sdNiBxmz1sTT0I038Mc7TG65YCTk3nLHj73 kFoTfoAZFA9Y9TcyHklGQltsWug4GEPF8m7lo6KJ2dX1R9n43I RM9jt2OVSjZY47N0sZMN6p4DHv4ixhixneOhobA-KNsA=s3985)
"I don't want you to think I'm an alki waiting for the pub to open!" says woman of the moment, who introduces herself as a Wolverhampton Wanderers fan in that slightly apologetic / didn't ask way they always do. "Wait ..... so they aren't open yet?" I ask in shock. "No, 2pm!" she replies. Well, I'd timed my arrival at the Swan, Stone (1969 / 3398) perfectly then. Suddenly, we hear a key jangle in the lock and the door creaks open, 1:58pm. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were waiting, I'd have opened sooner!" says our lively, slightly bonkers friendly host Danni, an Aston Villa fan, who hasn't got over Grealish's departure. "I thought we were going to get married, but he's blown his chance now! I've moved on to Danny Ings" she says, bonding with Wolves lady over Midlands football. For a woman worried about looking like an alki, Wolves lady orders a tiny coffee with free biscuit, whilst I hit the Sarah Hughes. Danni brings out a frozen blue rubber glove to entertain the masses, which now involve a bonkers old local, who keeps showing me rude memes on his phone even though I didn't ask. He wants a hold of Colin. Danni is a fan too. Of course Colin would prove popular in such a friendly, quirky environment, one of my favourite pub experiences of the weekend. And just when you think it can't get any more weird bonkers colourful, Matthew "See the lizards" Lawrenson arrives to my 'surprise' (name of the ale I'm drinking so I shouldn't be!) , all Paisley shirted and wonderful, seeing on Twitter I was likely due here. Great, finally I have a tour guide. Wolves lady, who now has a man with her, stumbles back from the bogs, pauses and confesses she thought Matthew's bag was a dog and nearly stroked it. What was in that coffee? Matthew had warned me that Stone was a funny place, but now I could see for myself.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjea8wvvdv0hnYrWwle2plsnkDukR-aQd1-O_kcK5BmjhQVTB9eV8sLdpRGfkoIhGDKhabGCB128JJs_VdjCH 2sbjVeIlHVuj_1HG1duTHSWyw3jP4Txkt4aWZcK-Doi-zdDlRsgzNSzjRy_NlpHzlwkQ_QL-c4WDQ116Mgc86w7FZyYC3lZ5S0nqBhYA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjea8wvvdv0hnYrWwle2plsnkDukR-aQd1-O_kcK5BmjhQVTB9eV8sLdpRGfkoIhGDKhabGCB128JJs_VdjCH 2sbjVeIlHVuj_1HG1duTHSWyw3jP4Txkt4aWZcK-Doi-zdDlRsgzNSzjRy_NlpHzlwkQ_QL-c4WDQ116Mgc86w7FZyYC3lZ5S0nqBhYA=s4032)
Col, Matthew and a Random Pile of Logs
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioEU6KtvAa_HOXAh2JTXtpC1K7U5Df5RzCSEbX-lQ3wVGg7I2lz6ogX8LLvpcDC0n_GXhX6qe-DhKd0xPx_1Vclz3sgzpc2u3dTM6LqJOwR-EOcm9-mbkcgMrsUqi1dRVdlDjxRtocjhJeRVnS2GiQG5NYfoBHAS5yol zNAAQa0IeGU3gt5m0_dIbfEw=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioEU6KtvAa_HOXAh2JTXtpC1K7U5Df5RzCSEbX-lQ3wVGg7I2lz6ogX8LLvpcDC0n_GXhX6qe-DhKd0xPx_1Vclz3sgzpc2u3dTM6LqJOwR-EOcm9-mbkcgMrsUqi1dRVdlDjxRtocjhJeRVnS2GiQG5NYfoBHAS5yol zNAAQa0IeGU3gt5m0_dIbfEw=s4032)
Rude joke meme loving local, with Col
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Danni and Col
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCNaVEg9yHaVZ26OsgYALV6-eVbE5mrNdmeYzby5gAEsL3dxnd9FHJILsxr5mALaKlmL2DeCBr AAWtqPOrxxjhI1MDKHwpt9fhDFPK-pJV2Dw_4CB8CwIt2zoNRtAbGDnx4-lY0T43oK5lSCcA4gaom4PHYPJHNIRHABT7wB5xqhqa0I802Oq1 uYdfaw=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCNaVEg9yHaVZ26OsgYALV6-eVbE5mrNdmeYzby5gAEsL3dxnd9FHJILsxr5mALaKlmL2DeCBr AAWtqPOrxxjhI1MDKHwpt9fhDFPK-pJV2Dw_4CB8CwIt2zoNRtAbGDnx4-lY0T43oK5lSCcA4gaom4PHYPJHNIRHABT7wB5xqhqa0I802Oq1 uYdfaw=s4032)
Col and pub party piece, frozen blue rubber glove
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Our local heroes enjoying a great pub
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Distant Wolves lady surveys the scene
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Cracking ale, but very sweet
So another Bass failure, and the scene didn't get any brighter next as Matthew tells me the next place is a Titanic outlet ...... NOT that that's a bad thing ......
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0xLxUQASPcpORA5H_k_2zQzg2lxOugMvV-d8cN-Rs15P-zHe_Zp5u2kOCrEXiK-6fHFuzwOCL4hD5Z7vYT01c4qGrJZcFQER1UfjCzahd6ELRlrHo _h-n2xcK_EnB9Re5OE-fH-IdBE0D5D2I7vir7NeZyKCY8JrRUXZRZRKw34ypritZt0lODRUR 4A=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0xLxUQASPcpORA5H_k_2zQzg2lxOugMvV-d8cN-Rs15P-zHe_Zp5u2kOCrEXiK-6fHFuzwOCL4hD5Z7vYT01c4qGrJZcFQER1UfjCzahd6ELRlrHo _h-n2xcK_EnB9Re5OE-fH-IdBE0D5D2I7vir7NeZyKCY8JrRUXZRZRKw34ypritZt0lODRUR 4A=s1024)
More enjoyable quirkiness was to be found at Royal Exchange, Stone (1970 / 3369) certainly more evidence that Stone is looking to compete with Portland for weirdest place BRAPA has ever visited. Our amiable but no nonsense hostess (well, that is until I put forward my controversial theory about Stafford's Sun hiding their Plum Porter so people don't drink it all!) serves me a very cool crystally Iceberg, yes it is drinking well! People keep talking about whether a local called Mr Brasso is going to put in an appearance, and one staggering bloke tells the barmaid he only came in today to see what she is wearing, which asks a lot more question than it answers. Me and Matthew go to sit at the front of the room, and moving a curtain which doesn't look like it has been touched since 1970, aptly enough, a dead moth falls out and is suddenly sharing the bench with me. Twitter loves a good moth redemption story. Duncan Mackay is pleased with me, and reports it is an Angle Shades, which I thought was a pub near Liverpool Street station. Meanwhile, Katie Fuller declares all moths are good ones (even dead ones?) and says you can attract them by 'sugaring' which involves ale so it possibly got confused. Zombie moth attracted to Titantic Iceberg?? I'd seen enough to know that in Stone, anything is possible. Remember the show Eerie Indiana? Stone has the same energy.
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Angle Shades
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9cM1rELu3k1_0wwjmA1orDf2HsYZzKR8UddhKzZUrQk iVeqin3T0qt5Kq9KT_LRt2S2r7gGWINo8SIX3_5ZdcQ6afai8x RJ8zlGrL8gYX_hYKzgwiNqMMtInLxaKApgB0SGywxXdaw8oNOV 08gsqDYKimLkpUfA27KCknNBChEaHx8_0xFAA6vZIrwQ=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9cM1rELu3k1_0wwjmA1orDf2HsYZzKR8UddhKzZUrQk iVeqin3T0qt5Kq9KT_LRt2S2r7gGWINo8SIX3_5ZdcQ6afai8x RJ8zlGrL8gYX_hYKzgwiNqMMtInLxaKApgB0SGywxXdaw8oNOV 08gsqDYKimLkpUfA27KCknNBChEaHx8_0xFAA6vZIrwQ=s4032 )
Iceberg time, courtesy of our friendly host wearing sensible clothes
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVQH7HRDVAt2UpK6yvXE1__5xfA10KcaOMA2u1_Qk8rd n0b48R-V7sBaOoQE7LtxmocY2m2FMI3ZKHqNM2wnTlFu0avsro14Wdjm_ orXqa-MjmnBWFMpbUUBPpQ7v-_G3IO8edrXZu-tb55HIJHgVXOULa1P-rq_jVjdq-Vtas7M7b0WBtqOFa6jrSyw=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVQH7HRDVAt2UpK6yvXE1__5xfA10KcaOMA2u1_Qk8rd n0b48R-V7sBaOoQE7LtxmocY2m2FMI3ZKHqNM2wnTlFu0avsro14Wdjm_ orXqa-MjmnBWFMpbUUBPpQ7v-_G3IO8edrXZu-tb55HIJHgVXOULa1P-rq_jVjdq-Vtas7M7b0WBtqOFa6jrSyw=s3637)
Possible Mr Brasso sighting?
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWosp4MuHklZwMsUAZs8F81MDQTXWNAIvsEO_tGMRyH0 hWK8IqFV5ze8_SiRCCDCUTqUVppT6FjRd8dPhcyY52gwDDQZnJ RVGUbHNdxp_7vqNmPuDqUZOKiV77GgTWoWclXoqAbf2pVlbt72 q5hcNUI3BBpEiBC20b1SOWlRtGDhbrSl6vEIw9VhFUzQ=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWosp4MuHklZwMsUAZs8F81MDQTXWNAIvsEO_tGMRyH0 hWK8IqFV5ze8_SiRCCDCUTqUVppT6FjRd8dPhcyY52gwDDQZnJ RVGUbHNdxp_7vqNmPuDqUZOKiV77GgTWoWclXoqAbf2pVlbt72 q5hcNUI3BBpEiBC20b1SOWlRtGDhbrSl6vEIw9VhFUzQ=s4032 )
Another low key Mr Brasso contender, note Matthew in the window
No need to fire up Google Maps, Matthew knows Stone like the back of his hand, and I follow him through the mean streets in search of our third and final pub.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFYf0T6VZl7TWUao3Exi6jUxz8U6VuPHcsbYAJtKntCm Cjgm17gOPtKUM5Hf7Z0tDUR-vBaEDk9KVXlhtJwrhv8bucwFDiia_VJxh0Vup2AK6DNX7JNKG-C3Zy4CfoYaNE1f5JA7hpbJgeOUr_oAtQNPSU1REK8jc8p8zdcc JpzaOAf0J5WkXJsBeiew=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFYf0T6VZl7TWUao3Exi6jUxz8U6VuPHcsbYAJtKntCm Cjgm17gOPtKUM5Hf7Z0tDUR-vBaEDk9KVXlhtJwrhv8bucwFDiia_VJxh0Vup2AK6DNX7JNKG-C3Zy4CfoYaNE1f5JA7hpbJgeOUr_oAtQNPSU1REK8jc8p8zdcc JpzaOAf0J5WkXJsBeiew=s4032)
We come to a building which we think might be the pub. Impossible to tell, doesn't look like a pub, looks more like the entrance to a railway station they never want you to use. But a GBG sticker and a range of handpumps suggests we are probably in the right place.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHCQBsTW7wptgKyHxUCTvC5MJvb9Y6zYuXEhX_Jb44ch Sm1Q-zjYOmFfDBHQ01r7FUElkE6x7aB6pPiJX-kKeypPssPXloJnObEH6REsMDkRF9bGBjB5tr6Gg1URujIhF1Z7 Zd0WBZsHcC6ax_oWkdzXZPcpHuQlMt1svKb596BZ4jQ95p1ZCn 7kOpyg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHCQBsTW7wptgKyHxUCTvC5MJvb9Y6zYuXEhX_Jb44ch Sm1Q-zjYOmFfDBHQ01r7FUElkE6x7aB6pPiJX-kKeypPssPXloJnObEH6REsMDkRF9bGBjB5tr6Gg1URujIhF1Z7 Zd0WBZsHcC6ax_oWkdzXZPcpHuQlMt1svKb596BZ4jQ95p1ZCn 7kOpyg=s4032)
Borehole, Stone (1971 / 3370) is the probably venue, and as early ticker Isaac Newton observed, what goes up must come down. After some cracking experiences today, I found this place drab and unconvincing. Feels more like a boutique cake shop / dog grooming salon than a pub, the young lady serving us has such an expression on her face (nervous? unseeing? sinister? ..... which may be forgivable, if me and Matthew approached YOUR bar) We're hardly made to feel welcome. Matthew observes the way she's pulling our pints, looks like she's never done it before in her life. Lymestone is the brewery, so another Bass failure, so much for my plan this morning! A decent drop, never wows me. It was Matthew who took me to Lymestone's main place in Newcastle-under-Lyme and I liked that one, friendly bloke I remember. My ale is good but the place smells of raw meat, damp and dogs which kind ruins the aroma somewhat. We sit at the back of the room, a few more folk arrive, but there's no Mr Brasso or Drunk Wolves Coffee ladies here. I guess it does what it says on the tin, bit of a bore, bit of a hole. But of course, that is just my considered (100% correct cos I've visited so many pubs) opinion, you might love it. Give it a try before you die!
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBBWBW6I6YvGsty_RlWo-SQZJGnJUNbCg6uSLDuQi-bHWn3O_Z5eKLzLZ8yJ0Kvs2Z9X6aCovnK8h6y7H3zBd2oz85RR awcT8G0BSMNSpP_Qc1BuqvsODQoyV3A8rB4vIYw62T6N9cvqo7 VMInTY2A9JsvK1wG4b8nD_1O45B5TVPOOLEkzOgNANArqQ=s32 0 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBBWBW6I6YvGsty_RlWo-SQZJGnJUNbCg6uSLDuQi-bHWn3O_Z5eKLzLZ8yJ0Kvs2Z9X6aCovnK8h6y7H3zBd2oz85RR awcT8G0BSMNSpP_Qc1BuqvsODQoyV3A8rB4vIYw62T6N9cvqo7 VMInTY2A9JsvK1wG4b8nD_1O45B5TVPOOLEkzOgNANArqQ=s40 32)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-gb340aYByrbIyQcHVHHusvgK2zyRKHNcsooofYgDO9LiqnbDz8 zrg0FekH8an5ALxXFNUugxqZmPzLXtIBP35jXye9yWpcAhSl2n CkPLH7f9lQ4IF3a4gnVuF7HSAq8piXlMtpWRu8Lj4Aw5gJ663c en9EKxnM7z699nI8UtqHn_AmK9gP2VIKo4uQ=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-gb340aYByrbIyQcHVHHusvgK2zyRKHNcsooofYgDO9LiqnbDz8 zrg0FekH8an5ALxXFNUugxqZmPzLXtIBP35jXye9yWpcAhSl2n CkPLH7f9lQ4IF3a4gnVuF7HSAq8piXlMtpWRu8Lj4Aw5gJ663c en9EKxnM7z699nI8UtqHn_AmK9gP2VIKo4uQ=s3270)
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https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcWF8vJWytiS23z9LuF6gmsQX5H6NhEMCsMvY-EY-WDWJEHmW14Cati__BiQ3LWdDVFxVd-fl8kXcj6-rdHaeIXRS-czvezZhaWo5SPzKQy47lq7S37Tcn-mHBFU9tNuz5o7_Q9ovmxwi4nJZeW1HpeQ7UUzjPPdPK0s6k3HT PBMxaA7Xdc1HPTb-9sg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcWF8vJWytiS23z9LuF6gmsQX5H6NhEMCsMvY-EY-WDWJEHmW14Cati__BiQ3LWdDVFxVd-fl8kXcj6-rdHaeIXRS-czvezZhaWo5SPzKQy47lq7S37Tcn-mHBFU9tNuz5o7_Q9ovmxwi4nJZeW1HpeQ7UUzjPPdPK0s6k3HT PBMxaA7Xdc1HPTb-9sg=s4032)
Matthew guides me back to the station, mindful of what state I'm likely in by now, hops on a train Preston bound before me and I wave him off, and then I go for a wee in some bushes definitely not part of the station so don't fear.
One more pub to go, and one still to do in the central part of Stafford. Makes sense doesn't it?
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8QBNJrgJrrn0IR4IXcz4rDRtiOZypH555O_KJpwjvUu J_K2-inZkEZHwZ4pRSQY6qS3GWOHgrIyB9SZZoKnUF28LkrFS20MO8l 70IjE3hal5U2t1ggou9AbwxMGmMjC0Vl-P60W52NPAft_TgKLWX5KrkalVpYcxHHxUrO8oYBYENfx1l-If2WCrK8g=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8QBNJrgJrrn0IR4IXcz4rDRtiOZypH555O_KJpwjvUu J_K2-inZkEZHwZ4pRSQY6qS3GWOHgrIyB9SZZoKnUF28LkrFS20MO8l 70IjE3hal5U2t1ggou9AbwxMGmMjC0Vl-P60W52NPAft_TgKLWX5KrkalVpYcxHHxUrO8oYBYENfx1l-If2WCrK8g=s3684)
And whilst my memories of Bird in Hand, Stafford (1972 / 3371) are inevitably hazy, I remember enough about it to report it was one of the stronger Stafford pubs I visited this weekend. Black Country Ales pub again, like my favoured Shrewsbury Arms the previous evening, making me think they obviously know how to do pubs well, plus their ales seem very nice as well, though my fifth consecutive Bass fail means my grand tally so far is 1/10 - boo! The Zombie Richard III is drinking well though. Solid staff, and quite a lively local hub, being a sunny late Friday afternoon now, spilling into the evening session. It starts with a few blokes dotted around the bench seats watching the golfers tee off for the Ryder Cup (come on Europe! How did that work out?), and soon, in what they claim is a total coincidence, a massive group of 'yoofs' arrive, with inflatable golf clubs and sporting golfing gear. "Actual gowf!" exclaims the ring leader, beating himself over the head with his fake club, as a lady in a skimpier golf outfit than I've ever seen Davis Love III wearing, giggles. Other than that, all sweetness and light, apart from a slightly sinister incident when a youngish bloke tells his partner that he wants his parents to believe he's into clay pigeon shooting because he doesn't want to admit he shoots actual birds! Eeek. In a 'Bird in Hand' aswell. Pubbing, you don't know what you're gonna hear next.
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Nice foamy Zombie Richard
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhc4qyt0Yg6RwrMYVyp_qcZAdPkzM0KT1QAoI07-IJFgTKfl-TQsoi4-qyrwru8uzmBuOxKYroZF5O0WEp32WAt8dUdVn1wxRxWbKBbFTW khprc_RtGXuBFKk56I3IVui2as7kd3H6qAzsVdcoB0sjeLIeHO XaMEoufvVfAJf481gBi9FlP7SqdrgJA0Q=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhc4qyt0Yg6RwrMYVyp_qcZAdPkzM0KT1QAoI07-IJFgTKfl-TQsoi4-qyrwru8uzmBuOxKYroZF5O0WEp32WAt8dUdVn1wxRxWbKBbFTW khprc_RtGXuBFKk56I3IVui2as7kd3H6qAzsVdcoB0sjeLIeHO XaMEoufvVfAJf481gBi9FlP7SqdrgJA0Q=s4032)
Calm before the golf gang arrived
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiO2bu1On1ofbA6zs0Me00KJYUYQ5bPcGRiqWy-1_7EDlF_sqKGXDeJtnR2hmLQBQ-hJcEMWzqIFMiGvturyQCm1wDc0zXpDt6wS1UqJVAsc18EwcUzC QoK0depKpfYkhnEt5WliY0Kxf68s3ccX91O3qzS8X64s3eGtiL k7SMxEMQYviTYvgWlfZ8cqg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiO2bu1On1ofbA6zs0Me00KJYUYQ5bPcGRiqWy-1_7EDlF_sqKGXDeJtnR2hmLQBQ-hJcEMWzqIFMiGvturyQCm1wDc0zXpDt6wS1UqJVAsc18EwcUzC QoK0depKpfYkhnEt5WliY0Kxf68s3ccX91O3qzS8X64s3eGtiL k7SMxEMQYviTYvgWlfZ8cqg=s4032)
A pleasant BRAPA scene
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlhmDliwDM0uOJlZ5Qck6PNOG1F8WuzgBXvi2ClCKXO-keU5fYptFXStBkgMYoLok59xfwPqeu4Ip9MsfFN58GJd1Oh79T mfOJFrf_mB01rFiuhoPSjajUjtBlsob0vgrCabVpuzDyduAicU-eGzMIDeEiG2fcNYB8vKbYHQF6lcQEb9hiujYTwPqkHQ=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlhmDliwDM0uOJlZ5Qck6PNOG1F8WuzgBXvi2ClCKXO-keU5fYptFXStBkgMYoLok59xfwPqeu4Ip9MsfFN58GJd1Oh79T mfOJFrf_mB01rFiuhoPSjajUjtBlsob0vgrCabVpuzDyduAicU-eGzMIDeEiG2fcNYB8vKbYHQF6lcQEb9hiujYTwPqkHQ=s3586)
Extreme Col
Well, it might still have been early, but that was me done! After buying a nice bag of food, it was back to my Travelodge.
Busy day tomorrow, little did I know I'd end up doing EIGHT pubs, some absolute classics, as the likes of Daddy BRAPA and Tom were coming to town.
Join me for epic tales of that tomorrow in an even more extended Part 3.
Si
More... (http://brapa-4500.blogspot.com/2021/10/brapa-counts-bassies-staffs-part-2-of-4.html)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuS3m7O4IXGcO1Ahfs20NJyQRdMeHr_6E68TwDfIaJ1-kIHazmksORxWvR-nhfvA-dbJvc4xHk8jwSR3JTqToLPZdglyYBMKm9zLtZjJ13W-BffL-gJNvJMdwgqDceMm0nJ4uFoQBQFqoJjCeePlFqnA7dcrG7ONul-aKaKQ6Vf65FBWKW6UbO_CM4qw=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuS3m7O4IXGcO1Ahfs20NJyQRdMeHr_6E68TwDfIaJ1-kIHazmksORxWvR-nhfvA-dbJvc4xHk8jwSR3JTqToLPZdglyYBMKm9zLtZjJ13W-BffL-gJNvJMdwgqDceMm0nJ4uFoQBQFqoJjCeePlFqnA7dcrG7ONul-aKaKQ6Vf65FBWKW6UbO_CM4qw=s4032)
Today's quest saw me aiming to break my three year old record of four consecutive pints of Bass in BRAPA pubs. If it was achievable anywhere, Staffordshire was the place to do it.
And it was 1/1 early doors in Green Man, Milwich (1967 / 3396) , a pub so remote, I'd been delighted to come up with a public transport solution (obscure bus to place called Salt, then long walk) until I realised said bus only takes the Salt route about thrice a day.
A taxi it was instead, my driver was a 'character', bemoaning all the shut boozers en route, but bemoaning even more Petrol Crisis 2021, which was dominating the news this morning. We were joking about what I'd do if the pub wasn't open, but arriving at 12:05pm, a wide open door reassured me. Yet he STILL felt the need to poke his head out of the car window, and shout at the landlady who was doing some essential pub work in the beer garden "THIS LAD IS WONDERING IF YOU ARE OPEN!" (I'm not wondering, I can see it is). "Well if he looks, he'll see the door is wide open!" she replies. Talk about getting me off on the wrong foot! I'm the the first customer, and thankfully the landlord is easier to please, as I order a Bass, a beer he's a fan of, he's been here since 1990. 27 consecutive GBG appearances too. I'm very shortly joined by a gaggle of old locals, who all sit centimetres away from me on the bench, some to my left, some right, but almost zero acknowledgement, despite a bloody great cauliflower, beer guide and Stabilo on my table. I try and join in the chat briefly, but they'd rather speak through me! Verging on rude. Is this peak middle England? Why this lot are also so apoplectic re the petrol crisis I'll never know, sinking about 4 Bassies in the time it takes me to drink one, where are they planning on driving? When did they last leave Milwich? The guv'nor is the only person I like here, occasional smiles, he claims getting Bass on has been tough due to a CO2 shortage and we all should be thankful. At one point, he wipes the blackboard, rechalks it, but it is fainter than it was before! Locals are passing each other newspapers over my head now. I return my glass, say goodbye and leave. Absolute crickets.
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A happy scene
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Before the locals arrive #1
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Before the locals arrive #2
It is a long walk back to the main road junction, plenty of time to chunter under my breath about weird insular village folk, and get it all out of my system. Gorgeous pub though, and good beer.
After passing a few farms and lots of angry pheasants, I take a right turn onto a busy road and just pray the pavement holds out.
It does. Well, right up until I need to take my life into my hands by crossing and turning into the village for pub two.
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And with not many properties in this little hamlet, the pub is easy to spot, all twinkly with little fairy lights flickering on the outside.
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It opens up into a fairly characterless indoor space, I can't say Greyhound, Burston (1968 / 3397) is going to be a contender for pub of the weekend, despite a sunnier welcome from the landlady. It is Marston's too, thus denying me a second consecutive Bass I'd been hoping for. Having said that, the ale quality is spot on, the 61 Deep sure drank well, it needed to! Pretty gastro otherwise, the only 'atmosphere' created by a spate of incoming yappy dogs blocking way to toilets from bar, and children asking their Mummies for sweeties. It is exactly the sort of pub you'll end up in the baby change by mistake, and that's what I did. At least I could take solace in the fact that two blokes opposite me, discussing aquatic birds, looked like they could've stepped straight off my Twitter page and into this pub. We exchanged a few friendly words, mainly about twilds and twogs. The low leather settee isn't doing much for my 'drinking posture', which soon needs to be dialled up to 'Down it, Down it'. Having miscalculated how many miles Stone is from here, and still unclear on the 'pavement situation', I've tried ordering an Uber taxi. Not too confident, such a hit and miss company. But this time, it pings in seconds and a bloke says he's only eight minutes away. I still have three quarters of a pint to drink. But I make it, and leave with a big belch and bye bye to our bird lovers.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvJK8MKGiZ6SBhlYqylwxg_hc74CMtkUW3nljMPNw9OL ZCZsJHi1HJ3PIUEVp-F29rn1WcsljFadSySxWckVc7mOZKX7niypQqq0iXAy49OMLq91 N5MMzS_Sv9MfJpGtwHJab5L6HzIR5ooqOZKpiGsNYKhDOXOYhB OTNdSxD6CDgsK1QcjPGaiH8RsA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvJK8MKGiZ6SBhlYqylwxg_hc74CMtkUW3nljMPNw9OL ZCZsJHi1HJ3PIUEVp-F29rn1WcsljFadSySxWckVc7mOZKX7niypQqq0iXAy49OMLq91 N5MMzS_Sv9MfJpGtwHJab5L6HzIR5ooqOZKpiGsNYKhDOXOYhB OTNdSxD6CDgsK1QcjPGaiH8RsA=s4032)
Aquatic legends - and I don't mean Colin
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggZ_rlu1UTl72H-fl2QDSDBN7IL-BlvyoAhIaKybDoR4GzyhH2gc9TghgaCIlHo6G9WVEhGUJ3mL3C 0NfDI_u9np64V2FG8FvYf9495EWYOGoX9NBQ0FNlFo0WqNI86r QM2Z7fS2TEPBcCBf1JRxVwGnd7JkeZH9KFQcXDK4oKTg0BnUaB k3FvwgNKGw=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggZ_rlu1UTl72H-fl2QDSDBN7IL-BlvyoAhIaKybDoR4GzyhH2gc9TghgaCIlHo6G9WVEhGUJ3mL3C 0NfDI_u9np64V2FG8FvYf9495EWYOGoX9NBQ0FNlFo0WqNI86r QM2Z7fS2TEPBcCBf1JRxVwGnd7JkeZH9KFQcXDK4oKTg0BnUaB k3FvwgNKGw=s4032)
I love owls but no thanks
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What can we see through the pub window?
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Handbag dog orders lady owner a pint of Pedigree (chum)
Uber driver doesn't say a word but is incredible efficient, dropping me off at my Stone outlier at 13:57.
A lady is sat outside, I step up to take the picture ......
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"I don't want you to think I'm an alki waiting for the pub to open!" says woman of the moment, who introduces herself as a Wolverhampton Wanderers fan in that slightly apologetic / didn't ask way they always do. "Wait ..... so they aren't open yet?" I ask in shock. "No, 2pm!" she replies. Well, I'd timed my arrival at the Swan, Stone (1969 / 3398) perfectly then. Suddenly, we hear a key jangle in the lock and the door creaks open, 1:58pm. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were waiting, I'd have opened sooner!" says our lively, slightly bonkers friendly host Danni, an Aston Villa fan, who hasn't got over Grealish's departure. "I thought we were going to get married, but he's blown his chance now! I've moved on to Danny Ings" she says, bonding with Wolves lady over Midlands football. For a woman worried about looking like an alki, Wolves lady orders a tiny coffee with free biscuit, whilst I hit the Sarah Hughes. Danni brings out a frozen blue rubber glove to entertain the masses, which now involve a bonkers old local, who keeps showing me rude memes on his phone even though I didn't ask. He wants a hold of Colin. Danni is a fan too. Of course Colin would prove popular in such a friendly, quirky environment, one of my favourite pub experiences of the weekend. And just when you think it can't get any more weird bonkers colourful, Matthew "See the lizards" Lawrenson arrives to my 'surprise' (name of the ale I'm drinking so I shouldn't be!) , all Paisley shirted and wonderful, seeing on Twitter I was likely due here. Great, finally I have a tour guide. Wolves lady, who now has a man with her, stumbles back from the bogs, pauses and confesses she thought Matthew's bag was a dog and nearly stroked it. What was in that coffee? Matthew had warned me that Stone was a funny place, but now I could see for myself.
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Col, Matthew and a Random Pile of Logs
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Rude joke meme loving local, with Col
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Danni and Col
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Col and pub party piece, frozen blue rubber glove
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Our local heroes enjoying a great pub
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Distant Wolves lady surveys the scene
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Cracking ale, but very sweet
So another Bass failure, and the scene didn't get any brighter next as Matthew tells me the next place is a Titanic outlet ...... NOT that that's a bad thing ......
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More enjoyable quirkiness was to be found at Royal Exchange, Stone (1970 / 3369) certainly more evidence that Stone is looking to compete with Portland for weirdest place BRAPA has ever visited. Our amiable but no nonsense hostess (well, that is until I put forward my controversial theory about Stafford's Sun hiding their Plum Porter so people don't drink it all!) serves me a very cool crystally Iceberg, yes it is drinking well! People keep talking about whether a local called Mr Brasso is going to put in an appearance, and one staggering bloke tells the barmaid he only came in today to see what she is wearing, which asks a lot more question than it answers. Me and Matthew go to sit at the front of the room, and moving a curtain which doesn't look like it has been touched since 1970, aptly enough, a dead moth falls out and is suddenly sharing the bench with me. Twitter loves a good moth redemption story. Duncan Mackay is pleased with me, and reports it is an Angle Shades, which I thought was a pub near Liverpool Street station. Meanwhile, Katie Fuller declares all moths are good ones (even dead ones?) and says you can attract them by 'sugaring' which involves ale so it possibly got confused. Zombie moth attracted to Titantic Iceberg?? I'd seen enough to know that in Stone, anything is possible. Remember the show Eerie Indiana? Stone has the same energy.
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Angle Shades
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Iceberg time, courtesy of our friendly host wearing sensible clothes
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Possible Mr Brasso sighting?
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Another low key Mr Brasso contender, note Matthew in the window
No need to fire up Google Maps, Matthew knows Stone like the back of his hand, and I follow him through the mean streets in search of our third and final pub.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFYf0T6VZl7TWUao3Exi6jUxz8U6VuPHcsbYAJtKntCm Cjgm17gOPtKUM5Hf7Z0tDUR-vBaEDk9KVXlhtJwrhv8bucwFDiia_VJxh0Vup2AK6DNX7JNKG-C3Zy4CfoYaNE1f5JA7hpbJgeOUr_oAtQNPSU1REK8jc8p8zdcc JpzaOAf0J5WkXJsBeiew=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFYf0T6VZl7TWUao3Exi6jUxz8U6VuPHcsbYAJtKntCm Cjgm17gOPtKUM5Hf7Z0tDUR-vBaEDk9KVXlhtJwrhv8bucwFDiia_VJxh0Vup2AK6DNX7JNKG-C3Zy4CfoYaNE1f5JA7hpbJgeOUr_oAtQNPSU1REK8jc8p8zdcc JpzaOAf0J5WkXJsBeiew=s4032)
We come to a building which we think might be the pub. Impossible to tell, doesn't look like a pub, looks more like the entrance to a railway station they never want you to use. But a GBG sticker and a range of handpumps suggests we are probably in the right place.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHCQBsTW7wptgKyHxUCTvC5MJvb9Y6zYuXEhX_Jb44ch Sm1Q-zjYOmFfDBHQ01r7FUElkE6x7aB6pPiJX-kKeypPssPXloJnObEH6REsMDkRF9bGBjB5tr6Gg1URujIhF1Z7 Zd0WBZsHcC6ax_oWkdzXZPcpHuQlMt1svKb596BZ4jQ95p1ZCn 7kOpyg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHCQBsTW7wptgKyHxUCTvC5MJvb9Y6zYuXEhX_Jb44ch Sm1Q-zjYOmFfDBHQ01r7FUElkE6x7aB6pPiJX-kKeypPssPXloJnObEH6REsMDkRF9bGBjB5tr6Gg1URujIhF1Z7 Zd0WBZsHcC6ax_oWkdzXZPcpHuQlMt1svKb596BZ4jQ95p1ZCn 7kOpyg=s4032)
Borehole, Stone (1971 / 3370) is the probably venue, and as early ticker Isaac Newton observed, what goes up must come down. After some cracking experiences today, I found this place drab and unconvincing. Feels more like a boutique cake shop / dog grooming salon than a pub, the young lady serving us has such an expression on her face (nervous? unseeing? sinister? ..... which may be forgivable, if me and Matthew approached YOUR bar) We're hardly made to feel welcome. Matthew observes the way she's pulling our pints, looks like she's never done it before in her life. Lymestone is the brewery, so another Bass failure, so much for my plan this morning! A decent drop, never wows me. It was Matthew who took me to Lymestone's main place in Newcastle-under-Lyme and I liked that one, friendly bloke I remember. My ale is good but the place smells of raw meat, damp and dogs which kind ruins the aroma somewhat. We sit at the back of the room, a few more folk arrive, but there's no Mr Brasso or Drunk Wolves Coffee ladies here. I guess it does what it says on the tin, bit of a bore, bit of a hole. But of course, that is just my considered (100% correct cos I've visited so many pubs) opinion, you might love it. Give it a try before you die!
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBBWBW6I6YvGsty_RlWo-SQZJGnJUNbCg6uSLDuQi-bHWn3O_Z5eKLzLZ8yJ0Kvs2Z9X6aCovnK8h6y7H3zBd2oz85RR awcT8G0BSMNSpP_Qc1BuqvsODQoyV3A8rB4vIYw62T6N9cvqo7 VMInTY2A9JsvK1wG4b8nD_1O45B5TVPOOLEkzOgNANArqQ=s32 0 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBBWBW6I6YvGsty_RlWo-SQZJGnJUNbCg6uSLDuQi-bHWn3O_Z5eKLzLZ8yJ0Kvs2Z9X6aCovnK8h6y7H3zBd2oz85RR awcT8G0BSMNSpP_Qc1BuqvsODQoyV3A8rB4vIYw62T6N9cvqo7 VMInTY2A9JsvK1wG4b8nD_1O45B5TVPOOLEkzOgNANArqQ=s40 32)
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https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcWF8vJWytiS23z9LuF6gmsQX5H6NhEMCsMvY-EY-WDWJEHmW14Cati__BiQ3LWdDVFxVd-fl8kXcj6-rdHaeIXRS-czvezZhaWo5SPzKQy47lq7S37Tcn-mHBFU9tNuz5o7_Q9ovmxwi4nJZeW1HpeQ7UUzjPPdPK0s6k3HT PBMxaA7Xdc1HPTb-9sg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcWF8vJWytiS23z9LuF6gmsQX5H6NhEMCsMvY-EY-WDWJEHmW14Cati__BiQ3LWdDVFxVd-fl8kXcj6-rdHaeIXRS-czvezZhaWo5SPzKQy47lq7S37Tcn-mHBFU9tNuz5o7_Q9ovmxwi4nJZeW1HpeQ7UUzjPPdPK0s6k3HT PBMxaA7Xdc1HPTb-9sg=s4032)
Matthew guides me back to the station, mindful of what state I'm likely in by now, hops on a train Preston bound before me and I wave him off, and then I go for a wee in some bushes definitely not part of the station so don't fear.
One more pub to go, and one still to do in the central part of Stafford. Makes sense doesn't it?
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8QBNJrgJrrn0IR4IXcz4rDRtiOZypH555O_KJpwjvUu J_K2-inZkEZHwZ4pRSQY6qS3GWOHgrIyB9SZZoKnUF28LkrFS20MO8l 70IjE3hal5U2t1ggou9AbwxMGmMjC0Vl-P60W52NPAft_TgKLWX5KrkalVpYcxHHxUrO8oYBYENfx1l-If2WCrK8g=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8QBNJrgJrrn0IR4IXcz4rDRtiOZypH555O_KJpwjvUu J_K2-inZkEZHwZ4pRSQY6qS3GWOHgrIyB9SZZoKnUF28LkrFS20MO8l 70IjE3hal5U2t1ggou9AbwxMGmMjC0Vl-P60W52NPAft_TgKLWX5KrkalVpYcxHHxUrO8oYBYENfx1l-If2WCrK8g=s3684)
And whilst my memories of Bird in Hand, Stafford (1972 / 3371) are inevitably hazy, I remember enough about it to report it was one of the stronger Stafford pubs I visited this weekend. Black Country Ales pub again, like my favoured Shrewsbury Arms the previous evening, making me think they obviously know how to do pubs well, plus their ales seem very nice as well, though my fifth consecutive Bass fail means my grand tally so far is 1/10 - boo! The Zombie Richard III is drinking well though. Solid staff, and quite a lively local hub, being a sunny late Friday afternoon now, spilling into the evening session. It starts with a few blokes dotted around the bench seats watching the golfers tee off for the Ryder Cup (come on Europe! How did that work out?), and soon, in what they claim is a total coincidence, a massive group of 'yoofs' arrive, with inflatable golf clubs and sporting golfing gear. "Actual gowf!" exclaims the ring leader, beating himself over the head with his fake club, as a lady in a skimpier golf outfit than I've ever seen Davis Love III wearing, giggles. Other than that, all sweetness and light, apart from a slightly sinister incident when a youngish bloke tells his partner that he wants his parents to believe he's into clay pigeon shooting because he doesn't want to admit he shoots actual birds! Eeek. In a 'Bird in Hand' aswell. Pubbing, you don't know what you're gonna hear next.
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Nice foamy Zombie Richard
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Calm before the golf gang arrived
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiO2bu1On1ofbA6zs0Me00KJYUYQ5bPcGRiqWy-1_7EDlF_sqKGXDeJtnR2hmLQBQ-hJcEMWzqIFMiGvturyQCm1wDc0zXpDt6wS1UqJVAsc18EwcUzC QoK0depKpfYkhnEt5WliY0Kxf68s3ccX91O3qzS8X64s3eGtiL k7SMxEMQYviTYvgWlfZ8cqg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiO2bu1On1ofbA6zs0Me00KJYUYQ5bPcGRiqWy-1_7EDlF_sqKGXDeJtnR2hmLQBQ-hJcEMWzqIFMiGvturyQCm1wDc0zXpDt6wS1UqJVAsc18EwcUzC QoK0depKpfYkhnEt5WliY0Kxf68s3ccX91O3qzS8X64s3eGtiL k7SMxEMQYviTYvgWlfZ8cqg=s4032)
A pleasant BRAPA scene
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlhmDliwDM0uOJlZ5Qck6PNOG1F8WuzgBXvi2ClCKXO-keU5fYptFXStBkgMYoLok59xfwPqeu4Ip9MsfFN58GJd1Oh79T mfOJFrf_mB01rFiuhoPSjajUjtBlsob0vgrCabVpuzDyduAicU-eGzMIDeEiG2fcNYB8vKbYHQF6lcQEb9hiujYTwPqkHQ=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlhmDliwDM0uOJlZ5Qck6PNOG1F8WuzgBXvi2ClCKXO-keU5fYptFXStBkgMYoLok59xfwPqeu4Ip9MsfFN58GJd1Oh79T mfOJFrf_mB01rFiuhoPSjajUjtBlsob0vgrCabVpuzDyduAicU-eGzMIDeEiG2fcNYB8vKbYHQF6lcQEb9hiujYTwPqkHQ=s3586)
Extreme Col
Well, it might still have been early, but that was me done! After buying a nice bag of food, it was back to my Travelodge.
Busy day tomorrow, little did I know I'd end up doing EIGHT pubs, some absolute classics, as the likes of Daddy BRAPA and Tom were coming to town.
Join me for epic tales of that tomorrow in an even more extended Part 3.
Si
More... (http://brapa-4500.blogspot.com/2021/10/brapa-counts-bassies-staffs-part-2-of-4.html)