I’m bored of these BRAPA posts now, so here’s the big run-in, from Coates to Glatton. I doubt many folk have heard of these places. Even in Peterborough CAMRA.
All I remembered about the Vine was that I didn’t remember it at all.
This is the Before..
And this is what we saw. Had I gone to the wrong pub in 2014 ?
Ah. A conservatory. At the front. These sort of subtle modernisations by sofa are quite common in the Fens; see the Travellers Rest or Lazy Otter on the A10 for evidence.
“Looks like a car showroom” said Simon, who has never been in a car showroom in his life.
I didn’t even remember the juke box, which seemed to be entirely stocked with tracks by cover singers from Wisbech.
I had a vague recollection of Bass, and the Old Boys indeed had Bass glasses. But no Bass.
Simon was on his fourth beer, the “mellow” one, but I still made him drink some Rutland Beast as well as his more sensible pint.
A bit too modern for my taste, but probably not the locals who tipped up (presumably once they realised BRAPA was in the village).
My notes are unusually sober, of course, noting succinctly that “Blue glove man drank his pint too quickly“. Am so judgemental.
Si’s 5th pint came at the Pub of the Day at Ramsey. I might make him go back with Mrs RM to present the certificate.
This, after all, was the pub where a child said “Bye” to me as I walked out (the wrong door, but never mind).
But at the last minute, I changed my mind, and a dazzling walk past inflatable santas and into a pub playing “Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep” later, it began.
Just as with the Halcyon Quest, I can’t explain the magic. It’s just a place where people treat you as part of the pub. Which isn’t as common as it sounds.
The locals were chatty, and incredibly nosey, but as Jo was on her 4th pint of Goose Island I think we can forgive her. She was also from Croydon, where Si has recently been on holiday.
Ramsey is practically below sea level, the Admiral Wells in Holme used to be the lowest GBG pub, though oddly Si seemed less than enthralled at my running commentary by this point.
Last stop Glatton, which was participating in one of those “Dark Skies” experiments where the locals turn all their lights off and attempt to identify an Ian Clarkson clearance heading towards Neptune or something.
This was prime gastro, fully booked at 6 but empty at 5 as locals are all doing Dry19.
Yes, Simon emptied his rucksack looking for a green marker, while I cooed over Nemo.
And that was that. Apart from the inadvisable beers he no doubt had in Peterborough, whose Spoons had five times as many folk as in pubs 2-6 put together. But was Spoons more fun ?