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12-10-2021, 20:42
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Halfway through my Saturday 2nd October six pub extravaganza, and you find me walking through St Albans to my final of the nine pubs which feature in the 2021 Good Beer Guide.
I pass the Lower Red Lion, where I enjoyed a beer festival in 2006 a little too much. My first St Albans tick, eight years before even I knew about BRAPA! As I keep walking, I see the Black Lion where I stayed the night, and opposite, the Blue Anchor.
I remember this because as I marmaladed my toast with a banging head back on that sunny Sunday morning in Apr '06, Dad points out of the window, sniggers, and says "Blue Anchor / Blu-Wanker". He was such an immature 59 year old.
Both pubs sadly look very closed today, 15 years later, though still displaying the inn signs.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAVifzvmNacjToJ67qQ65hshe_PtLhAmj3tnv1NhH-Tx_w2c6m0R8KalZyGZVQzPM9kbiJdgRPZXU4morAxY0F5NtXDb tJPFPSYKCRIBBOEu6Gxu_qLOQCaiGwcSNC6Ho7cWm78LtZ8tBE 5vKhpgTJR_vOSV_D49tjoPvVH6lijg93Jv0JNs3EVSzCuQ=s32 0 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAVifzvmNacjToJ67qQ65hshe_PtLhAmj3tnv1NhH-Tx_w2c6m0R8KalZyGZVQzPM9kbiJdgRPZXU4morAxY0F5NtXDb tJPFPSYKCRIBBOEu6Gxu_qLOQCaiGwcSNC6Ho7cWm78LtZ8tBE 5vKhpgTJR_vOSV_D49tjoPvVH6lijg93Jv0JNs3EVSzCuQ=s40 32)
I find my pub nestled amongst a row of terraced houses, it looks promising ......
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjoGZvqjaKm1cAa-cxmq4yKkMa8WxtRq-yJXrHBn0ChH3-4rpra0JpXOGqWoz7949lm5QDNtvKR3o3G1aKnX2T2Qar7ZTuRS OW3DNiSvyXySsQvqwfs4wP92XzpBvyknhkXok5Ih7yO6GMOhsv SWzxkk054F75Y9NE9IaEXUimu1yGDzvwgmdfqfzrfLQ=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjoGZvqjaKm1cAa-cxmq4yKkMa8WxtRq-yJXrHBn0ChH3-4rpra0JpXOGqWoz7949lm5QDNtvKR3o3G1aKnX2T2Qar7ZTuRS OW3DNiSvyXySsQvqwfs4wP92XzpBvyknhkXok5Ih7yO6GMOhsv SWzxkk054F75Y9NE9IaEXUimu1yGDzvwgmdfqfzrfLQ=s4032)
And it so nearly is a classic, the Six Bells, St Albans (1991 / 3420). I'm greeted by a roaring fire, the first of the 2021/22 season and a welcome sight in the midst of all this wet murky weather. The staff are personable enough, the Oakham JHB is in glorious condition, and in different circumstances, we could be phoning in a late contender for Herts pub of the month. But. Another of those BRAPA buts. And this one is bigger than a Kardashian one. The majority of the 'pub' is a restaurant. A wolf in sheep's clothing. The punters aren't stupid, the drinkers who've come early are nestled around the fire. Leaving three quarters of the pub a 'reserved table' heavy, rather chilly, bare boarded historic gastro pub. A well meaning member of staff shuffles me around a corner, not even in sight of the fire. A blue bloke gets the same treatment. He looks as miserable as me as he waits for his mates. His sister dropped him off, he's 'famous for playing for a cricket team' he tells someone rather tantalisingly, he hums piped Piano Man by Billy Joel, determined to rise above his misfortune, and you know what he is right. A nice pub in many ways. His three mates arrive. Definitely no chance of smuggling a snack now, they are all side on to me and slightly watchful. I dial up an Uber. It'll be here in ten. Luckily this JHB is highly quaffable.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnBXbqVcsfh0vzrgIiMD4qkgY58gOi1q4iuVXX8of0YX 2VfHJXByqj1xKeYPZ4SS34dtpYeJMyDFIOZQJ5-0IGHu_HIi2APu6XSFODwYhTff9a4LCnTGNdig2pPZqp2pJX--xAgcwHRTX93W_xmCa78MI3fsqZ2t64nY8AZm1AYfhC9AFKAOLn aDT3Qg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnBXbqVcsfh0vzrgIiMD4qkgY58gOi1q4iuVXX8of0YX 2VfHJXByqj1xKeYPZ4SS34dtpYeJMyDFIOZQJ5-0IGHu_HIi2APu6XSFODwYhTff9a4LCnTGNdig2pPZqp2pJX--xAgcwHRTX93W_xmCa78MI3fsqZ2t64nY8AZm1AYfhC9AFKAOLn aDT3Qg=s4032)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIqCZxpbTJXlTCdohCDo9EVeLFfKp2Zmj8IG9aOu1EgL kivZMNvaIpGawouvZcvJyi6hhbQ-OoiDneu7K7x3SFoGA3OaRZeZ6d2s5CkTkLB_LqoMSsluU1iiNb o4vSeGEaFOYWmhs4IlB3akHhq0sA7dZtG3BUCKdrycTpS1o3Km _yE2U6OWBVovKdoA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIqCZxpbTJXlTCdohCDo9EVeLFfKp2Zmj8IG9aOu1EgL kivZMNvaIpGawouvZcvJyi6hhbQ-OoiDneu7K7x3SFoGA3OaRZeZ6d2s5CkTkLB_LqoMSsluU1iiNb o4vSeGEaFOYWmhs4IlB3akHhq0sA7dZtG3BUCKdrycTpS1o3Km _yE2U6OWBVovKdoA=s4032)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPuVnF5ciWAbC_8WmQjSQf6VwsX-d7Vh_2m8Ia6Q3ABNGM7HeJPD8bAOyMbWB5xDvxiX9xzPDfG93r fZeadQ7GaLl8QTjyxjbcKQ8myfXtLgDgCg7bb-7Vtezaqd8HyyFiNEdjpSftrhsjpb4q3He11IcKi35iJ4nPeMAm YyqX_XjG70kUm8z9QWGmIA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiPuVnF5ciWAbC_8WmQjSQf6VwsX-d7Vh_2m8Ia6Q3ABNGM7HeJPD8bAOyMbWB5xDvxiX9xzPDfG93r fZeadQ7GaLl8QTjyxjbcKQ8myfXtLgDgCg7bb-7Vtezaqd8HyyFiNEdjpSftrhsjpb4q3He11IcKi35iJ4nPeMAm YyqX_XjG70kUm8z9QWGmIA=s4032)
Hallowe'en might still be some way off, but enter the month of October, and everything starts to look a little bit more spooky. Take my Uber for example.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6TWhdF7NzGzpGpC_g7c94We5X8WLqmCvzcy7gmdsl2n hdXR5eVNxpdjMoKmm9k9ZwzWh-t2WJjnCXQjC349R7zMBSPoVUuoFOS-wQpyIGOvjMDMkn4HBYXNiddjCa4emzqbb9_raBZJiBvo4e-ozUPjD4zeLbvX1KEgzvOOJQ2zaDKCaOatvM3K50rQ=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6TWhdF7NzGzpGpC_g7c94We5X8WLqmCvzcy7gmdsl2n hdXR5eVNxpdjMoKmm9k9ZwzWh-t2WJjnCXQjC349R7zMBSPoVUuoFOS-wQpyIGOvjMDMkn4HBYXNiddjCa4emzqbb9_raBZJiBvo4e-ozUPjD4zeLbvX1KEgzvOOJQ2zaDKCaOatvM3K50rQ=s4032)
Foreshadowing of new mascot Pumpy?
It didn't look much like a pub on first glance, more a chalet for the criminally insane Gooner, quite a remote location for Herts and as I step out of the car and the rain and wind whips around my face, the weatherboarded exterior makes a lot of sense.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijYb0AcU8jGLShwkZEOWxi5zRkQ5Al8DkD_YivgSz3Tt 0vCDZzVmKVkXK_TvF_5ZVWpg8ZExWb6hq5TWHdF4m_2lgvPoyo TkYVvD2OTHcW6moxI385y32zmK5ojkBrJbbhHthybunYdVF86T FK2HtR9FXrTFLRelA3nd8P3-LXe0fyX4Ya5lxgJMEzMA=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijYb0AcU8jGLShwkZEOWxi5zRkQ5Al8DkD_YivgSz3Tt 0vCDZzVmKVkXK_TvF_5ZVWpg8ZExWb6hq5TWHdF4m_2lgvPoyo TkYVvD2OTHcW6moxI385y32zmK5ojkBrJbbhHthybunYdVF86T FK2HtR9FXrTFLRelA3nd8P3-LXe0fyX4Ya5lxgJMEzMA=s4032)
The view that greets me the second I step through the door, I immediately photograph, as it is enough to swell the heart of any pub lover:
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0t3zhLg2KFKOH9-vTzepEn1gjJdUFag8PcicZGVWBoVvjUagDRkK622qOCv5xwjZ1 dRLTluY2BYAH6ZGpPgt1JXqgFf98oEDJAIm-R7L5_ydOV6D-RDLM3XH1hUiepPFkDjVvT6YZ0lwWtyO8BSfVXHaJBuZIKZHkW6 cy4vbMkFzWbiDWudz93OqiCg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0t3zhLg2KFKOH9-vTzepEn1gjJdUFag8PcicZGVWBoVvjUagDRkK622qOCv5xwjZ1 dRLTluY2BYAH6ZGpPgt1JXqgFf98oEDJAIm-R7L5_ydOV6D-RDLM3XH1hUiepPFkDjVvT6YZ0lwWtyO8BSfVXHaJBuZIKZHkW6 cy4vbMkFzWbiDWudz93OqiCg=s4032)
Crooked Billet, Colney Heath (1992 / 3421) is in many ways, pub of the day. Two downsides to make me reluctant to make such a 'declaration'. The quality of my Young's Special wasn't fab, and I was pretty much the only customer. I guess the two things could be linked. No chat with the landlady but she seemed pleasant enough, one of those awkward situations though where we kept bumping into each other, on my way to loo, having a little explore, way back from loo, may've been awkward had this not been my fifth pub. I sat in the front right hand corner, nicely nestled away amongst the Arsenal porn adorning the walls. Daddy BRAPA would've appreciated the various nooks and crannies allowing opportunities to smuggle a snack, and my bag of giant cheesy footballs in the realms of top tier snack territory. David Rocastle would've approved. Brian Marwood would've hogged the bag. Chuba Akpom would've crushed them all and ran off in a huff. Terry Neill would've remained stoic. The music fits the pub too, it is hopelessly circa 1972-1976, so much so I'm sure a hologram of Old Mudgie briefly appeared in the far corner. Finally, a few real life blokes did appear, their accents suitably nasal. Think codgery Janet Street-Porters. Actually, don't, A true gem, kind of feels like it belongs in Essex more than Herts, if you know what I mean.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWXo-QIfxrvaVNmnkcGu9YacjuVIbjkkV65nT56XKaOpXrZ_FwQ8pXW vsUDh5BNw4jlXIoMVd4FG7TalHo5WZmeCJ6L68SlegL7o4SRhr jyq6S15hCA1uf8_Nrk0rhSzx_VzjnHehhEva3D92c1691LIufT 7EDoJjbixdVGdXYXwPVIeYkrdj8_o597g=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWXo-QIfxrvaVNmnkcGu9YacjuVIbjkkV65nT56XKaOpXrZ_FwQ8pXW vsUDh5BNw4jlXIoMVd4FG7TalHo5WZmeCJ6L68SlegL7o4SRhr jyq6S15hCA1uf8_Nrk0rhSzx_VzjnHehhEva3D92c1691LIufT 7EDoJjbixdVGdXYXwPVIeYkrdj8_o597g=s4032)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFwU20so-_Qn06Z69XsazngEcTOFECSInlatQGO1O9IRVWCBI6D_HyBFwvA UgJIrOriK8SOF2fOiVVwWk5CymNDOqrnELzjL8zQRtcf5fWAqK csaBnEkVuOi6EOCDLRFvYYQHmV_aPCRzJMQBeLj7xCidTM0XS9 f1nMXt6IYZG6sO9u_piYh4-Xia95Q=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFwU20so-_Qn06Z69XsazngEcTOFECSInlatQGO1O9IRVWCBI6D_HyBFwvA UgJIrOriK8SOF2fOiVVwWk5CymNDOqrnELzjL8zQRtcf5fWAqK csaBnEkVuOi6EOCDLRFvYYQHmV_aPCRzJMQBeLj7xCidTM0XS9 f1nMXt6IYZG6sO9u_piYh4-Xia95Q=s4032)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGox55iIeAoQMpjXceYFAIZJ-lbefnYHfJWaUDaz9yZboDS0769GEW67aSzhbHDNpggP01h0eMx mfykAaV5LmMef6-YgeKROQMmIa9F4DbYx4-yEME0h9aX1oBDng9CkXt3KSjG_BHnCyAbw5VPrdXTmfEZHjr5B _P0FMiV_dw_BMZaucU5dW87_l1jw=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGox55iIeAoQMpjXceYFAIZJ-lbefnYHfJWaUDaz9yZboDS0769GEW67aSzhbHDNpggP01h0eMx mfykAaV5LmMef6-YgeKROQMmIa9F4DbYx4-yEME0h9aX1oBDng9CkXt3KSjG_BHnCyAbw5VPrdXTmfEZHjr5B _P0FMiV_dw_BMZaucU5dW87_l1jw=s4032)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJF0LSvWTyrYQ72KwI8iiZYqPFNlz9ZpKJ690KMO9y8s UmmglX3ovLreuD8fJwZBOKVq-SQHL6ezFJTHbQdrggq-S-rRbLIhedX8bykDL6FDikSWsrWPIW6-XgAnozj8K9q1V7Li7LH5Eh8b9jPJhAOUZUVn7BXlUQOpbrQohP Lf7vn0IO0fBXqpzemg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJF0LSvWTyrYQ72KwI8iiZYqPFNlz9ZpKJ690KMO9y8s UmmglX3ovLreuD8fJwZBOKVq-SQHL6ezFJTHbQdrggq-S-rRbLIhedX8bykDL6FDikSWsrWPIW6-XgAnozj8K9q1V7Li7LH5Eh8b9jPJhAOUZUVn7BXlUQOpbrQohP Lf7vn0IO0fBXqpzemg=s4032)
Did I walk the 49 minutes to Welham Green for our final tick of the day? I'd like to say yes, but I really have no recollection. Strong stuff that Special!
Now I've mentioned many times the perils of ticking a 'club' as a GBG wielding, CAMRA card carrying fully paid up member. You just don't know what you their rules are, or what reception you will receive.
But I cannot remember doing it as a sixth 'pub' of the day before. When your inhibitions have gone, as has your memory, so I just strolled up to the place fully expecting to walk in, get a pint, drink up and go. You know, like in a pub. WRONG SIMON!
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi22c_DHCvAPFilAAFaVTcBqhTOnAen2LL4QicLjYey0R goLZNHuwWNpvr2XVsKg32cM72EM8Ce9Z-Cy1a8eVTVCd9aPKm1v-lOx7BPh4fZ_t1GVk0IRMNyyi_w4a-op47U_HZACEkqzgwYDn0-bl4ZD4SLxOolCEYEhPn-StuhhG8IfSoF3uHygdtfhg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi22c_DHCvAPFilAAFaVTcBqhTOnAen2LL4QicLjYey0R goLZNHuwWNpvr2XVsKg32cM72EM8Ce9Z-Cy1a8eVTVCd9aPKm1v-lOx7BPh4fZ_t1GVk0IRMNyyi_w4a-op47U_HZACEkqzgwYDn0-bl4ZD4SLxOolCEYEhPn-StuhhG8IfSoF3uHygdtfhg=s4032)
Peering in through what seemed like french windows as much as a front door at North Mymms Social Club, Welham Green (1993 / 3422), it is soon evident that someone is going to have to gain me access. A group of blokes stood around the table peer at me, almost like they are shooing away unwanted vermin. "Members club only" someone growls. A nice young lass, who I'd come to know as "Louise : 'Orrible Child" unfortunate name for such a nice person, comes over to confirm this, but suddenly a drop of rain drips down the back of my neck, sobering me up 1%, enough for me to blurt out "I'm a CAMRA member" not something I'd say out loud even to close family, but needs must. This initially confuses Louise n co further, til our hero of the hour and knight in shining armour Dougie, rescues me. "You got a CAMRA card mate? Yep, yep, all good, it checks out, he's allowed in!" Hurrah! Well, everyone is apologetic verging on feeling guilty after that, I tell them no need. They apparently get a lot of kids wanting to come in to play pool and stuff. Riff-raff eh? Unlike me. I stand at the bar the whole time after that, chatting mainly with Dougie, his mate Jack, and Louise ('orrible child) who I'm sure said she was one of the many trainee vets who work here (I put dentist in my notes but think that is wrong) cos I remember asking if working here, serving these blokes, was good training for having to look into an angry Rottweiler's mouth etc. later in her career. Dougie gives me a bit of a tour, showing me the upstairs snooker room, though tables are covered, my usual surreptitious photography is nigh impossible as I feel just lucky to be here, and I've been looked after very well after a difficult start and only have nice if hazy memories.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYYN5SkFpvyectkOPTYoP5qrLO4jrqVa_DB82mYhv0wP xU2LP1r08toZqOIJn5i0iIlFlwh8sbZQnD5vHdRqlUJTJmvyUM GlLX0r7sfZLxT_qOBeN7gUBDU96UcN-KoEpAaXVmGCys8T29Jg8pDFTXqzwFkUZv_iKM4z7Pon_TxmU0l QzlYDXCLzG-2A=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYYN5SkFpvyectkOPTYoP5qrLO4jrqVa_DB82mYhv0wP xU2LP1r08toZqOIJn5i0iIlFlwh8sbZQnD5vHdRqlUJTJmvyUM GlLX0r7sfZLxT_qOBeN7gUBDU96UcN-KoEpAaXVmGCys8T29Jg8pDFTXqzwFkUZv_iKM4z7Pon_TxmU0l QzlYDXCLzG-2A=s4032)
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A short walk back to Welham Green station (though I do manage to get lost down a cul-de-sac), back into Hatfield for some snacks and an early night. Big day tomorrow as the probably famous Coxy (StephenPie) off of Twitter would be driving me around some weird rural 'uns.
See you tomorrow for that epic,
Si
More... (http://brapa-4500.blogspot.com/2021/10/brapa-in-colney-lonely-return-to-herts.html)
Halfway through my Saturday 2nd October six pub extravaganza, and you find me walking through St Albans to my final of the nine pubs which feature in the 2021 Good Beer Guide.
I pass the Lower Red Lion, where I enjoyed a beer festival in 2006 a little too much. My first St Albans tick, eight years before even I knew about BRAPA! As I keep walking, I see the Black Lion where I stayed the night, and opposite, the Blue Anchor.
I remember this because as I marmaladed my toast with a banging head back on that sunny Sunday morning in Apr '06, Dad points out of the window, sniggers, and says "Blue Anchor / Blu-Wanker". He was such an immature 59 year old.
Both pubs sadly look very closed today, 15 years later, though still displaying the inn signs.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAVifzvmNacjToJ67qQ65hshe_PtLhAmj3tnv1NhH-Tx_w2c6m0R8KalZyGZVQzPM9kbiJdgRPZXU4morAxY0F5NtXDb tJPFPSYKCRIBBOEu6Gxu_qLOQCaiGwcSNC6Ho7cWm78LtZ8tBE 5vKhpgTJR_vOSV_D49tjoPvVH6lijg93Jv0JNs3EVSzCuQ=s32 0 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAVifzvmNacjToJ67qQ65hshe_PtLhAmj3tnv1NhH-Tx_w2c6m0R8KalZyGZVQzPM9kbiJdgRPZXU4morAxY0F5NtXDb tJPFPSYKCRIBBOEu6Gxu_qLOQCaiGwcSNC6Ho7cWm78LtZ8tBE 5vKhpgTJR_vOSV_D49tjoPvVH6lijg93Jv0JNs3EVSzCuQ=s40 32)
I find my pub nestled amongst a row of terraced houses, it looks promising ......
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And it so nearly is a classic, the Six Bells, St Albans (1991 / 3420). I'm greeted by a roaring fire, the first of the 2021/22 season and a welcome sight in the midst of all this wet murky weather. The staff are personable enough, the Oakham JHB is in glorious condition, and in different circumstances, we could be phoning in a late contender for Herts pub of the month. But. Another of those BRAPA buts. And this one is bigger than a Kardashian one. The majority of the 'pub' is a restaurant. A wolf in sheep's clothing. The punters aren't stupid, the drinkers who've come early are nestled around the fire. Leaving three quarters of the pub a 'reserved table' heavy, rather chilly, bare boarded historic gastro pub. A well meaning member of staff shuffles me around a corner, not even in sight of the fire. A blue bloke gets the same treatment. He looks as miserable as me as he waits for his mates. His sister dropped him off, he's 'famous for playing for a cricket team' he tells someone rather tantalisingly, he hums piped Piano Man by Billy Joel, determined to rise above his misfortune, and you know what he is right. A nice pub in many ways. His three mates arrive. Definitely no chance of smuggling a snack now, they are all side on to me and slightly watchful. I dial up an Uber. It'll be here in ten. Luckily this JHB is highly quaffable.
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Hallowe'en might still be some way off, but enter the month of October, and everything starts to look a little bit more spooky. Take my Uber for example.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6TWhdF7NzGzpGpC_g7c94We5X8WLqmCvzcy7gmdsl2n hdXR5eVNxpdjMoKmm9k9ZwzWh-t2WJjnCXQjC349R7zMBSPoVUuoFOS-wQpyIGOvjMDMkn4HBYXNiddjCa4emzqbb9_raBZJiBvo4e-ozUPjD4zeLbvX1KEgzvOOJQ2zaDKCaOatvM3K50rQ=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg6TWhdF7NzGzpGpC_g7c94We5X8WLqmCvzcy7gmdsl2n hdXR5eVNxpdjMoKmm9k9ZwzWh-t2WJjnCXQjC349R7zMBSPoVUuoFOS-wQpyIGOvjMDMkn4HBYXNiddjCa4emzqbb9_raBZJiBvo4e-ozUPjD4zeLbvX1KEgzvOOJQ2zaDKCaOatvM3K50rQ=s4032)
Foreshadowing of new mascot Pumpy?
It didn't look much like a pub on first glance, more a chalet for the criminally insane Gooner, quite a remote location for Herts and as I step out of the car and the rain and wind whips around my face, the weatherboarded exterior makes a lot of sense.
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The view that greets me the second I step through the door, I immediately photograph, as it is enough to swell the heart of any pub lover:
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0t3zhLg2KFKOH9-vTzepEn1gjJdUFag8PcicZGVWBoVvjUagDRkK622qOCv5xwjZ1 dRLTluY2BYAH6ZGpPgt1JXqgFf98oEDJAIm-R7L5_ydOV6D-RDLM3XH1hUiepPFkDjVvT6YZ0lwWtyO8BSfVXHaJBuZIKZHkW6 cy4vbMkFzWbiDWudz93OqiCg=s320 (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0t3zhLg2KFKOH9-vTzepEn1gjJdUFag8PcicZGVWBoVvjUagDRkK622qOCv5xwjZ1 dRLTluY2BYAH6ZGpPgt1JXqgFf98oEDJAIm-R7L5_ydOV6D-RDLM3XH1hUiepPFkDjVvT6YZ0lwWtyO8BSfVXHaJBuZIKZHkW6 cy4vbMkFzWbiDWudz93OqiCg=s4032)
Crooked Billet, Colney Heath (1992 / 3421) is in many ways, pub of the day. Two downsides to make me reluctant to make such a 'declaration'. The quality of my Young's Special wasn't fab, and I was pretty much the only customer. I guess the two things could be linked. No chat with the landlady but she seemed pleasant enough, one of those awkward situations though where we kept bumping into each other, on my way to loo, having a little explore, way back from loo, may've been awkward had this not been my fifth pub. I sat in the front right hand corner, nicely nestled away amongst the Arsenal porn adorning the walls. Daddy BRAPA would've appreciated the various nooks and crannies allowing opportunities to smuggle a snack, and my bag of giant cheesy footballs in the realms of top tier snack territory. David Rocastle would've approved. Brian Marwood would've hogged the bag. Chuba Akpom would've crushed them all and ran off in a huff. Terry Neill would've remained stoic. The music fits the pub too, it is hopelessly circa 1972-1976, so much so I'm sure a hologram of Old Mudgie briefly appeared in the far corner. Finally, a few real life blokes did appear, their accents suitably nasal. Think codgery Janet Street-Porters. Actually, don't, A true gem, kind of feels like it belongs in Essex more than Herts, if you know what I mean.
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Did I walk the 49 minutes to Welham Green for our final tick of the day? I'd like to say yes, but I really have no recollection. Strong stuff that Special!
Now I've mentioned many times the perils of ticking a 'club' as a GBG wielding, CAMRA card carrying fully paid up member. You just don't know what you their rules are, or what reception you will receive.
But I cannot remember doing it as a sixth 'pub' of the day before. When your inhibitions have gone, as has your memory, so I just strolled up to the place fully expecting to walk in, get a pint, drink up and go. You know, like in a pub. WRONG SIMON!
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Peering in through what seemed like french windows as much as a front door at North Mymms Social Club, Welham Green (1993 / 3422), it is soon evident that someone is going to have to gain me access. A group of blokes stood around the table peer at me, almost like they are shooing away unwanted vermin. "Members club only" someone growls. A nice young lass, who I'd come to know as "Louise : 'Orrible Child" unfortunate name for such a nice person, comes over to confirm this, but suddenly a drop of rain drips down the back of my neck, sobering me up 1%, enough for me to blurt out "I'm a CAMRA member" not something I'd say out loud even to close family, but needs must. This initially confuses Louise n co further, til our hero of the hour and knight in shining armour Dougie, rescues me. "You got a CAMRA card mate? Yep, yep, all good, it checks out, he's allowed in!" Hurrah! Well, everyone is apologetic verging on feeling guilty after that, I tell them no need. They apparently get a lot of kids wanting to come in to play pool and stuff. Riff-raff eh? Unlike me. I stand at the bar the whole time after that, chatting mainly with Dougie, his mate Jack, and Louise ('orrible child) who I'm sure said she was one of the many trainee vets who work here (I put dentist in my notes but think that is wrong) cos I remember asking if working here, serving these blokes, was good training for having to look into an angry Rottweiler's mouth etc. later in her career. Dougie gives me a bit of a tour, showing me the upstairs snooker room, though tables are covered, my usual surreptitious photography is nigh impossible as I feel just lucky to be here, and I've been looked after very well after a difficult start and only have nice if hazy memories.
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A short walk back to Welham Green station (though I do manage to get lost down a cul-de-sac), back into Hatfield for some snacks and an early night. Big day tomorrow as the probably famous Coxy (StephenPie) off of Twitter would be driving me around some weird rural 'uns.
See you tomorrow for that epic,
Si
More... (http://brapa-4500.blogspot.com/2021/10/brapa-in-colney-lonely-return-to-herts.html)