Burton Pubs

Ah Burton. The home of beer. It had been a while since I’d visited – everywhere seems so far away since I moved back to Blackpool and the trains aren’t cheap these days either. However, on learning the shocking news that Sarah had never been to Burton, I knew it HAD to be the place for our next rendezvous. Sarah and I live on opposite sides of the country so we meet at specially selected beer towns that are usually situated partway between both of us. Today we were to be joined by my pals Wendy and Karina (you’ll be familiar with them by now, dear reader) and Sarah’s pal Amy.

There was a LOT to plan in terms of logistics – and distance meant time was tight. How did I choose which pubs to leave out? There were so many that NEEDED a visit. It was important that we packed in as much as possible for the Burton debutante. I’ll confess I got a bit of a headache planning this one, but here’s what I eventually came up with:

I’d really have liked to have eaten in Apne India Cuisine, where I understand you can take your beers in from the Coopers Tavern next door. Sadly, it didn’t open until 5.30pm, which was too late on our tight schedule. Next time!

Southbound

As I was tootling to the station, I was inspired to message Sarah. Ostentatiously, this was to announce that I’d remembered to bring the tote bag I’d borrowed from her in Donny to transport my beers home. The REAL reason for my message was to let her know I was wearing the jacket I’d worn at Lincoln, which had holes in it that she’d kindly offered to stitch up. I reckoned I’d caught her before setting off so she might just bring her needle and thread.

On landing at Blackpool North, I purchased my customary Earl Grey (black, bag removed) before boarding the first train of the day, which would take me to Preston. I settled back in my seat and reached into my rucksack for my breakfast and my book.

DISASTER!

A banana had exploded inside my bag – and all over my book, which was on loan from the library. Mercifully, the library caters for idiots like me and covers books in plastic before loaning them out. The book was mainly spared, bar a bit of moist banana action at the top of the spine. I pulled a tissue out of my pocket and cleaned up the book as best I could before placing the tissue and dead banana in the train bin.

As I was settling back with my other banana, hard boiled eggs, overnight oats and Earl Grey, I messaged Sarah to warn her that her tote bag may contain banana.

Alighting at Preston with some time to kill, I headed for the waiting room to wait in the warm. I wondered why I had never used waiting rooms years ago, when I had memories of crying and shivering on station platforms, with no money for a brew to keep me warm. Were waiting rooms always a thing?

In stark contrast to those dark days, today I found myself smiling and full of joy (despite bananagate). I was excited about the day ahead in one of the best beer towns with a group of great girls.

Today I was reading The Art of Asking: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help by Amanda Palmer. This had been recommended by a fellow writer and I was enjoying it immensely. I felt such a connection with the author. As I read about her days as a street performer, ignored by the majority but really doing it for those who stopped and connected with her, those who mattered, I thought of all those hours I had spent selling fanzines in the same situation. It was my readers, who stopped to say hello, buy a fanzine, do swapsies with their fanzine, bring me chocolate or a pair of gloves their wife had knitted for me; they were the ones I did it for.

Next I took a train to Birmingham. Behind me was a man on a video call to the mother of his child.

‘Your hair’s nice. I mean, you’re still ugly, but your hair’s nice.’

I was excited to notice some new tech on the train, with red and green dots above the seats clearly indicating if they were reserved or not. What a good idea.

Alighting at Birmingham New Street, I was in need of a comfort break, so I tootled down the concourse in search of the Ladies. I shuddered as I remembered a previous visit to these facilities, on my way home from Blackpool’s last match at Saltergate in Chesterfield, when my eye was killing me because some fluff from my hood was irritating my gas permeable contact lenses. I had in the back of my mind that you needed to pay to get into these toilets but was that still a thing?

I passed a sniffer dog on the concourse and realised my dog anxiety was still a thing. This was not good. Once upon a time – and not very long ago – I’d have been all over a sniffer dog, giving it a fuss and taking photos of it for the blog. Now my anxiety steered me away from it.

Dear reader, not only were the Ladies free to enter – but they were tangerine and white! What a treat.

I still had some time to wait before making my final connection to Burton, so I treated myself to another Earl Grey. It was MASSIVE and it was £3.45. I sat in the waiting room on the concourse and chilled with my brew and my book.

With about ten minutes to go before my train was due, I sauntered down to the platform. Within minutes, there was an announcement that my train had been replatformed. Gah! Some things don’t change. This was ALWAYS happening when I used to commute from Walsall on the train. I was forever racing up and down stairs to meet a replatformed train. Mercifully, this one was only on the adjacent platform, so there was no running or stairs involved.

Despite arriving from different places on different trains, Sarah, Amy, Karina and I managed to successfully rendezvous on the platform at Burton station, arriving within minutes of each other. Wendy had arrived early and was taking breakfast in a cafe across town, close to our first pub of the day (or was it…?) so we headed out of the station in that direction.

It was a fun walk across town. Amy found treasure on the station.

I admired Amy’s Tom and Jerry earrings. We taunted Sarah for her map reading skills. And Burton smelled of barbecue sauce.

I identified the cafe I thought Wendy must have meant, overlooking the park and the pub. I spied a figure I thought was Wendy heading out of the cafe but Karina wasn’t having any of it. We went in the cafe and, sure enough, no Wendy. It HAD been her heading out, off to kill a bit of time in Primark. Sarah bought a brew and we loitered in the park while we waited for the pub to open (tick tock). Sarah has a thing (apparently) about posing with cannons and she decided to do the same with an anchor in the park, straddling it for a photo. She attempted a seductive pose and I’ll confess it looked terrifying. Is it noon yet?!

Dog Inn

We headed over to loiter with intent outside the Dog. We waited and waited. We couldn’t even wave at anyone through the windows because the curtains were drawn. Around ten past, a woman rocked up and advised us that the pub wasn’t opening until later that afternoon because of a march that was taking place. Apparently they’d been targeted and received threats so they were staying closed for safety reasons. That was a reasonable explanation. We wished her well and headed straight to Pub #2 on our list. Oh but would that be closed for the march too…?

Coopers Tavern

This has always been the Pub of Choice for Blackpool’s away days at Burton Albion. It’s just ace. Homely and traditional and welcoming. I can’t knock Joules pubs.

Happily the pub was indeed open and they were oblivious to any march. We resolved that, if there was any trouble, we’d be happy to be locked in here all afternoon.

I briefly considered the Bass but went for half of the Thornbridge and half of the mystery ‘batch beer’.

We discussed the above sign. For me, ‘hand raised pork pies’ conjures up images of little pork pies frolicking in a pen on a farm. Alas one of the girls shattered my illusions, suggesting the ‘hand raising’ related to the shaping of the pastry. I wish I hadn’t asked now. I much prefer my version.

As we had extra time available owing to the enforced closure of the Dog, we stayed a little longer in here. As much as I like packing in plenty of pubs on these adventures, it is nice to stand (sit) still sometimes.

Once we’d all supped up, we took an amble to the place Sarah had found for our lunch (I’d delegated because I was having enough trouble narrowing down the pubs).

Aromate

As soon as we stepped through the doors of the restaurant and were shown to our table, I realised with horror that I’d left my rucksack in the pub. I’m so used to travelling light, I’d forgotten I’d brought it. Sarah and I half power-walked, half ran back to Coopers Tavern to retrieve it, where it was still safely nestled under the table. Phew! By the time we’d made it back to the restaurant I was ravenous. I made sure I put my rucksack where it was visible so I wouldn’t forget it again (always learn from your mistakes, dear reader).

Right – let’s get ordering! I’ll just have still water in here. I don’t tend to drink alcohol in restaurants because it gives me a break from the beer and they only usually have lager type stuff that I don’t really want to waste my syns on.

The food was delicious and the portions were generous. I was pleased I hadn’t ordered a starter, as the above was plenty. If I had, though, I’d have had this.

As always, we got onto the subject of Sarah’s pet chickens, with Wendy asking (as I had) if she ate them. My pal Ian kept chickens and he named them Biryani, Jalfrezi, Tikka Massala, etc. Sarah explained that she didn’t eat her chickens because, when she was forced to kill them, they were by that time not in a good way. Prompted by Wendy, Sarah went on to demonstrate (with props) how to kill a chicken (she’d researched this on YouTube, where there’s a demo for everything). I pointed out that this probably wasn’t the best subject matter for the dinner table but it was interesting nonetheless and it didn’t hamper my enjoyment of the chicken on my plate.

In a further example of unsavoury table talk, the conversation turned to tins of fermented fish aka surströmming. I had indicated that I’d pretty much try any type of food, but I might draw the line at this, which sounds revolting. The Wikipedia page on Surströmming makes for interesting reading…

You have Sarah to thank for the following video, which she dubbed ‘my favourite surströmming video’.

Right – on to the next pub!

Brews Of The World

I knew this place to be dangerous owing to its extensive and exciting beer range (fridges – eek!). Take a look and you’ll see what I mean.

I had the Duchesse because Wendy and Karina had been raving about it for months. Plus I love chocolate and I love cherries. Alas I’m not a huge fan of Belgian beers and this one did have that distinctive Belgian flavour. I wasn’t getting much chocolate or cherry either. Sorry girls but it’s a no from me.

Look at all this other lovely stuff in the fridge that I could have had.

We were pleased to see Ross in here, a pal from the pub scene in Birmingham.

But I know you’re really here for the Loo Review, so I’ll not keep you waiting any longer.

As there were so many of us (five), it did prove difficult for us to synchronise our drinking. When one or two of us had an empty glass, there was at least one other with a full glass. And, with all these lush beers to choose from, we were never going to realistically just stay here for one, were we?

We eventually had to move on for our own safety. It could have got very messy in here.

Beeropolis

This was a new tick for me (not that I’m a ticker) and the walk here was a welcome break from the beer (although the rain was less welcome).

This was one of those fridges that I photographed without examining the contents for my own safety. I’ve just taken a proper look and am fuming at that spelling of ‘Nekter’.

Now we were settled again, I passed my holey jacket to Sarah, who promptly whipped out her sewing needle and set to work repairing the holes in my pocket and in my armpit.

It was here that we learned that Amy was a former pupil of Sarah from her time as a Spanish teacher in Scunthorpe. Sarah had some words of wisdom for Amy.

‘This is a sign of things to come. You’ll be in your 50s sewing coats in pubs.’

I’ll save you from her lettuce leaf story because, whilst very funny, you don’t want to know.

Time was ticking on now and some of us had trains to catch. It was also raining quite persistently now so, as we bade a reluctant farewell to Sarah and Amy, the remainderwomen decided against the extra steppage towards the Weighbridge (uninspiring beer list today anyway) in favour of ducking back into our favourite pub of the day which was winking at us from across the road.

Brews Of The World (again)

In Beeropolis, Wendy had kindly dished out (for future consumption) some of her overflow beer stash. I gratefully accepted this one to enjoy at home at a later date.

We found some lower seats to relax in on this visit and reflected on what a fab day this had been. It is a risk bringing together friends who have never met before but we’re all the same tribe and I was pleased that we’d all got along splendidly today.

Wendy and Karina started walking me back to the station before I decided I actually needed to run to make my train, which I made safely. They stayed on and things seemed to get messy so it seems I got out in the nick of time!.

Burton (and girls) – you were fab as ever, thank you. See you again soon.

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Next Up: Walsall Senior Cup Final – Chasetown v Rushall Olympic.