I clearly need a break; I must complain to the Pub Tickers Union.
The blog titles have gone to pot of late, my crack team failing to come up with a suitable, “R” rated name for a post featuring THIS;
It’s no wonder BRAPA is now within 4 Twitter followers of me (1,344 v 1,340); he’d never miss an opportunity like this.
Except that when I check his blog, I find Simon had actually made Billingham’s Crafty Cock 20 months ago, and failed to come up with a single double entendre.
But at least he and a bloody-nosed Daddy BRAPA beat me, having found the Teesside micro irritatingly closed twice.
You’ll have to read my 2017 epic if you want to see what Billingham is like, but you can probably guess.
Thank goodness for trains, and thank goodness for Facebook, eh ? You can always rely on opening times on Facebook, unless the day has an “r” in it.
But this looks like an open door, doesn’t it ?
Did the regulars hear I was coming and scarper off down the Catholic Club ?
Or were they avoiding the Ed Sheeran soundtrack in the Crafty Cock ?
There was one couple out on Wednesday night, and it was lovely to see folk go to the pub to discuss their domestic issues instead of at home over Love Island. My own attempts to join in a conversation about the merits of Mother Shipton’s Cave failed early on, and I retreated to my pint.
Only one beer, a cool, crisp Landlord (NBSS 3+) rather suggested a Proper Pub rather than a beery pub, and much talk of huge pizza orders, again just as it should be.
Quite comfy, in that Notts mining town style, and it clearly DOES get lively at the weekend, as this clip shows;
Right at the end of my visit, I got the drama that BRAPA craves with some “Locked key stuck in door dramas”, leading to Dad shouting “For f**ks sake” and calling a mate to the rescue. Perhaps the drama was in Seaton Carew, and no-one wants to go there at 7pm on a weekday.