When the going gets tough, squeeze a Jam reference into your blog post. Life After Football will get it.
A trip to the Herts/Essex borders west of Bishops Stortford and Stansted Airport is a rare treat for me.
The “Stort”, as BRAPA will no doubt call it, is a dull old place, but those tiny lanes leading to London overspill estates in Harlow are full of great pubs. Green Tye, Allen’s Green and my Doom Bar pick at Sawbridgeworth all await Simon if he ever finishes Essex.
The Road to Perry Green and The Hoops takes you past 37 public schools, 3 rugby clubs and one of what Twitter helped me authoritatively identify as “a bird”. Thanks, Twitter.
The main activity in Perry Green (pop. about 12) is visiting garden centres and the pub. My sorta people.
I thought that a white boarded gastropub in Hertfordshire’s stockbroker belt would be a horror show at 14:30 on a Friday in July, but despite being again diverted to a table in the garden where everyone was I loved it.
And it was all about the ebullient Landlady, buzzing around, chatting and casually ridiculing the regulars, creating the sort of happy atmosphere not seen in many pubs since last March.
“Do what you want. Not YOU, obviously !” she told waistcoat man (top), my pub man of the year so far.
“You finished your food YET, Marcus ?“
“YOU can come here ANYTIME you like, my love !” she told me as I followed her instructions and paid in cash.
Every table had its own characters, blissfully unaware that BRAPA was at the moment mere miles away in Broxted.
“That’s where I did my dog first aid. The glass of Malbec cost twenty quid” my personal conversational highlight.
A Courage Best like pint (local Much Hadham First) was a decent if unspectacular NBSS 3, but it’d be worth a return visit after the 19th to revel in the sort of atmosphere you’re told only exists in the East End.
I sneaked a look inside on the way to the loo, and was a bit less convinced.
And then stumbled across the main reason why folk visit Perry Green; the gorgeous estate of Henry Moore, including this sculpture called “BRAPA after six pints contemplating an ESB at Kings Cross“.
Surprisingly lifelike.
retiredmartin 
“BRAPA after six pints contemplating an ESB at Kings Cross.“ Hilarious.
Yes, those ESB moments are what separates the men from the GBG pubtickers. Brilliantly observed by Lord Henry Moore and rendered in recycled East Kent Goldings for our delectation. Give the man a medal.
What do you mean, he’s dead.
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No one ever really dies, Will, they just come back in a different form and drink less cask.
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I thought that nobody ever drank Doom Bar and its owners had just mixed up the amount of outlets with sales?
In London tonight so will enjoy not having any despite it being there. That’s the true (British) way.
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It’s often the most drunk beer in pubs, and I’ll willingly swap a bit of flavour for a fresher beer, though I suspect I’m alone in that!
Outside of London Pride, what are the big sellers in London these days ?
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Wasn’t Perry Green Watford FC’s keeper in 1991?
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That was Much Suckling of Barnet, I think 🤔
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Can’t beat a Jam reference.
Nothing to do with Perry Green, but this is a Big Day. My first real ale since December 2019. Was at the St Machar Bar, Aberdeen and the beer was Pentland IPA. Wish I could say it had me weeping at the beauty of it all, but it was frankly the end of the barrel. However, they changed it, and the replacement was a welcome reminder of why I love cask beer. Next up, guess what, everyone’s favourite, Doom Bar in a rather grim Spoons. It was great. Now in The Grill, on Windswept Blonde, and that’s great too. Life is good.
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Five pints for “weeping at the beauty of it all”, Bill.
St Machar didn’t have great beer but did have Scott when we were there in 2019.
Life is sweet (Maria McKee reference).
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Five (5)?! Wow. In the Greene King dining pub of my choice?
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Yes, Bill !
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Never chance the cask in a university bar outside of term time.
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Ironically, Mrs B and I spent the evening in a Greene King semi-dining pub, where I drank Evil Craft.
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“I’m going to put it in the fruit machine” Possibly the only Jam song that is dated due to the fact it’s talking about pound notes but an absolute classic!!
That pint looks better than you scored it…
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Can’t rely on appearances. Remember those beers in Scotland that Martin photographed – clear and apparently sparkling, but off.
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Wise words pal 👍
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It’s uncannily appropriate that the sculpture of Simon contemplating whether or not he could handle another pint was created by a man named Moore. 😉
The exterior looks lovely in your photo but I’m with you, that interior is letting them down a bit.
Loved the bits of overheard conversation. Twenty pounds for a glass of wine? They must’ve been in Tokyo!
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