Bob Log III in Pocklington

Pocklington, on the edge of the East Yorkshire Wolds, was one of my less predictable recent overnight stops.  I ended up there because I had a spare day in this neck-of-the-woods and was intrigued by the chance to see Bob Log III at the Arts Centre.

Pocklington is home to just under 8,500 folks, five proper pubs, a couple of bars and a micro in a side street was typically closed on the day I visited.

Arriving in town late afternoon I checked into The Feathers (56 Market Place, Pocklington, YO42 2AH - web), which would provide a roof over my head for the night.

Not the roof you see in the picture, as I was actually in the motel-style rooms adjoining the car park to the rear.
Although it's had many a refurb, this is an Elizabethan Posting and Market Inn.  Turn left after entering and you'll find yourself in a bright hotel bar with a decent range of ales on offer.  I'd be back later for the Titanic 'Plum Porter'.

Firstly though, I made my way to the town's 2023 Good Beer Guide entry - Brew York outpost, the Market Tap.

Market Tap (11-13 Market Place, Pocklington, YO42 2AS - web)
This was once a newsagents shop, before being converted into a tap for the Hop Studio Brewery in 2018.  Sadly, Hop Studio have since disappeared, as have most newsagents.
It was taken over by Brew York in their first venture outside of York's city walls (they've recently expanded further with a new site in Leeds).
A simple single room housed a cross-section of Pocklington residents.

Six of the handpumps lined across the bar were in operation, serving a variety of Brew York beers.  Never one for sensibility, I only had eyes for the one at the end - a 9.6% imperial coffee porter on cask.  Absolutely superb stuff!

  

I was comfy sat in the Market Tap, reading the local CAMRA mag, with a soundtrack straight outta Brewdog, full of pop-punk and alt rock classics.
I stayed for a second stout at a more sensible strength before deciding it was time to move on.

I stood looking across the road and trying to decide between the Black Swan or Black Bull.  The Bull won my custom...on what basis I'll never know.

The Black Bull (18 Market Place, Pocklington, YO42 2AR - web)
This was a pretty typical two-bar town boozer, with a good number of punters making for a lively early evening.  The local tradesfolk propped up the bar in their workwear knocking back Moretti.  Families picked from the food menu, old boys drank the cask ale, and the rowdy youth of Pocklington occupied the second room.

The choice of ales consisted of Doom Bar or Bradfield 'Farmers Blonde'.  A quality pint of Farmers Blonde for me, whilst taking in the mismatched entertainment of golf on the giant TV screens accompanied by Fergie singing 'Big Girls don't Cry'.

Lager, lager, lager...

Right, time to head to the Arts Centre.

Bob Log III hails from Tucson, Arizona, and is billed as  the "one man crown prince of punk blues".
Think of a Leadbelly/Tom Waits/John Spencer Blues Explosion mash-up dressed in a human cannonball outfit.  Sat at the front of the stage playing some mesmerizingly frantic slide guitar with fuzzed-up vocals through a telephone contraption wired into a helmet, this ain't your average singer-songwriter.

Bob let us in on the (quite possibly fabricated) secret that all music sounds better when accompanied by the smells of toasting bread. Producing a two-slice toaster and loaf of Happy Shopper thick white, he invited the audience to come on up and make toast.  And to keep it in your back pocket when you're done, cause you'll need it later.

And then he says things are about to get weird. 

Suffice to say that the inflatable duck in the picture was later filled with Bucks Fizz and the audience given the chance to come to the stage and take their turn to drink from the duck.
No thank you.
However, if you'd filled it with Theakston's Old Peculiar....

"What the hell have we just seen?" asked someone leaving the Arts Centre at the end of the show.
Yep, what indeed. 

A Well-Deserved Pint in the Priory

 

Wrapping up our long weekend in Wales, here's one final post which covers...

⮞ A walk up a hill
⮞ A bar in the 13th century crypt of an Augustinian priory
⮞ Castle ruins - although not the most spectacular you'll ever see
⮞ A micro pub
⮞ And bell pushes in an ancient hotel

On a glorious sunny Spring morning, we made our way up the Vale of Ewyas to the hamlet of Llanthony

This is a bit of a tourist hotspot, with the hills looming on either side and the atmospheric ruins of the priory to wander around.

I was smugly satisfied to get the last spot in the free car park, saving a whole £1 that the hotel charges to park in their neighbouring field.
We laced up the hiking boots and set out on a footpath up the hill toward Bāl Bach.
Wasn't that a song on the Pixies first album after reforming?  Not one of their most melodic numbers to hum on the way up the hill, though.

Our route took us a little higher along the ridgeway following the Cambrian Way, until we dropped back down into the valley.
We did get lost on the hillside, had a precarious scramble, and scared some sheep.  But I don't need to tell anyone about that bit. 

Sadly, the GBG-listed Hunters Moon pub, back down in Llanthony, has been closed since March.
There was an alternative for a much-deserved pint and a spot of lunch, as the Priory Hotel has a cellar bar....

This is accessed through the grounds of the Priory ruins, making for a wonderful setting.

Priory Hotel Cellar Bar (Mill Farm, Llanthony, NP7 7NN - web)
The more modern buildings on the site which have become the hotel were constructed in the 1800's.  But the cellar beneath them was once part of the 12th century Augustinian monastery.  Under the vaulted ceiling is a fantastically busy bar counter with expansive display of cakes and biscuits, and three handpumps hidden behind the confectionery.
I picked the 'Blorendge' golden ale, brewed by Tudor Brewery from Llanhilleth, a crisp, bitter beer that hit the spot.

We managed to get the last table (and there aren't many of them) and ordered some home-cooked food to replenish all that energy lost walking up the hill.
Llanthony would be intriguing of an evening once the day trippers have departed.  The hotel promotes itself as being a real getaway, with no phone signals, TV's, or wi-fi.  Could I cope? - sadly, no, probably not.

Later than day, we found our way to the Powys market town of Crickhowell.  This is a pleasant little place, rising above the River Usk, home to just over 2,000 people and 5 open pubs, if I'm counting right.
We went to look at the castle which didn't take very long as there's not much of it left.

Then strolled to the High Street to find the micro pub.

Treebeard's Bar (54 High Street, Crickhowell, NP8 1BH)
Treebeard's had been closed over lunch for a wedding party, the last remnants of which were still in evidence when we rocked up at 4pm.
A micro, opened a couple of years ago, it consists of one single room and a roadside seating area where you can admire the market hall and its fine jubilee clock across the road.

Beers were served straight from the barrel, with a choice of three local ales available.
I picked an enjoyable pale ale: 'UPA', from Raglan's Untapped Brewing Co.

 

A quick trip to check out the micro pub choice of WC artwork...

Then it was time to move on.
Not far - just across the road junction is the town's second Beer Guide entry, looking very photogenic in the late afternoon sunshine...

The Bear Hotel (High Street, Crickhowell, NP8 1BW - web)
There's reportedly been an inn here since 1432, with the current Grade II listed building dating back to the mid-18th century.
It's a grand eye-catching coaching inn, with archway to the side leading through to what would once have been stables.
Stepping through the front-door evokes a feeling of being in a different era.  There's an old telephone booth adjacent to the entrance, wooden beams, trad fireplaces and fifty shades of brown.

And it's almost completely empty, bar a few gentlefolk taking afternoon tea in the window seat.  Nobody at the bar either, which gives us lots of time to make a decision of whether to have the Evan Evans 'Cwrw', Wadworth 'Kings Ale' Tim Tayor 'Landlord', or Brains 'Rev James'.

An old coaching inn like this should surely have some great ghost stories attached to it.  But they've been superseded with tales of celebrity guests on Wiki - apparently Robbie Williams stayed here in the 90's whilst recording his debut solo LP, and Johnny Depp popped in in 2004 when he was filming nearby.

We were sat by some old bell pushes once used for hotel guests to call to be waited upon.
I had to look up what an ostler is.

We sunk into a low comfy seat, realised that those normally little used muscles ached after walking up a hill, and that it might be quite difficult to get back up again.
But worth it for a lovely day of walking, sightseeing and supping fine ales in three very different pubs.

Abergavenny Pub Explorations

In which we spend two evenings of the Bank Holiday weekend exploring a handful of pubs in the Monmouthshire town of Abergavenny.

But let's start in Llanfoist, on the southern side of the bridge over the river Usk, as this is where our Premier Inn was located and provided the first refreshment stop... 

Bridge Inn (Merthyr Road, Llanfoist, NP7 9LH - web)
The Bridge was a cosy L-shaped pub, with the locals settled on the tables opposite the bar and some uptake for the almost - but not quite - riverside garden, now that the sunshine had made an appearance.
Real ales on offer were Glamorgan 'Jermimas Pitchfork', Hancocks 'HB', and Wye Valley 'Butty Bach', which seems to get everywhere around these parts.
The trad HB for me - very much a boring brown bitter - but well-kept and easy-drinking.

We grabbed a table at the far end of the bar, down a couple of steps, beyond the balustrade which doubled as a climbing frame for one of the younger pub regulars.
There was a nice mixed crowd here, from the bloke reading his very serious book, to the son  converting his mum from white wine to Madri whilst her husband was distracted by the dog at the next table.

The Bridge is ideal for Abergavenny Premier Inn guests who've shunned the Brewer's Fayre, but decided it's too far to walk to the town centre.
But we had exploring to do.  We crossed the river and navigated through the terraced side streets of Abergavenny until we reached a pub that I'd been looking forward to...

Station Hotel (37 Brecon Road, Abergavenny, NP7 5UH)
This is a station hotel without a station, and across the road is the Railway Inn without a railway.  Both are named after the long-gone Heads of the Valley line and the one-time Brecon Road station.

The Station Hotel is a basic two-roomer, although the trepidation of which way to turn in the front porch is taken away, as there's only one way in.  The right-side lounge is reached via a route around the back of the bar.

There were several real ales available - probably including Butty Bach - but all I remember is this...

Mrs PropUptheBar had come to the realisation that craft beer hadn't reached Monmouthshire.  But even deprived of her pudding stouts mango sours for the weekend, she declared the Bass to be "lovely".

Moving on from the Station, we walked a short way down the road and found our way to Grofield, Baker Street...

Grofield (Baker Street, Abergavenny, NP7 5BB - web)
Hmmm...this was something of an unusual Good Beer Guide entry.
On the plus side - nice garden to the rear and outdoor gents (albeit of the shiny and sparkling variety).
On the downside - the pub has had a stark modern makeover and I maintain my opinion that leather padding on the front of the bar is never a good sign.
And it was fiendishly hot - they must be on a great energy tariff here, as the heating was on a 'sit in your underpants' setting.

Two handpumps at the side of the bar were offering up Sharps 'Atlantic' or 'Doom Bar'.
I took my Atlantic (so-so) to the raised area to the side of the front door.  And nothing much happened for the next 30-minutes, although there seemed to be a fair number of regulars who all knew each other and obviously favoured this place as their local.

That was our lot for the first evening - walking through the muddy fields all the afternoon had worn me out.  Leaping forward to Sunday evening, we headed back into town to continue our explorations.

Just up a pedestrianised lane to the side of the Town Hall, we found the Hen & Chickens in full swing, with all the picnic tables out front occupied and the sounds of fiddle and guitar drifting out from the open door.

Hen & Chickens (7 Flannel Street, Abergavenny, NP7 5EG - web)
I'm approaching the Hen & Chickens with an open-mind having not previously visited.  Many folk are irked by the changes made in the late nineties when Brains brought the pub and refurbished it, including extending into a former hairdressers next door to create more space.

There were plenty of hand pumps on the bar, but still no craft beer for Mrs PropUptheBar, unless you're counting Brains 'Barry Island' on keg.  There were a couple of staple Marston's choices and four Brains ales to choose from, including a most enjoyable 'Dark' for me.

We could pick the quiet seats in the snug to the rear...

Or the noisy ones in the side room...

The band were called 'Rattled' and they knocked out a range of folksy covers on guitar, violin and box drum, peaking with the Waterboy's 'Whole of the Moon' and Tom Petty's 'Free Falling'.  Much enthusiasm from the crowd, including a little jig from the aging Welsh Hells Angel, and some heckling from the ladies on the table next to us who looked to have put a sizable dent in the pub's Prosecco supplies.

Next up: the town's 'Spoons because we needed some no-nonsense food.
And because I'm a sucker for a cinema conversion.

The Coliseum (Lion Street, Abergavenny, NP7 5PH - web)
This opened remarkably early as a cinema in 1913.  By 1930 it had had a refurbishment to increase capacity to 780 and install a sound system for the new 'talkies'.
The Colisuem was a victim of home video, attendances declining until the stalls were converted into shops in 1987, the upper floor continuing to show films for a few more years until bingo took over.  And then, in 2001, along came JD Wetherspoon and their carpets...

To be honest, apart from the sweeping circular staircase leading from the entrance to the bar, the Coliseum doesn't feel much like a cinema conversion.  It's more barn-like, with a lot of people making a fair bit of noise.

The guest beer range was quiet limited and best bitter orientated, although I've no complaints about my enjoyable pint of Great Newsome 'Frothingham Best'.

Where to next?
As we'd walked into town it had been impossible not to notice the Kings Arms, with a large crowd of drinkers spread out onto the market square in front of it.  So we figured we'd go and see what all the fuss was about.

The Kings Arms Hotel (50-60 Cross Street, Abergavenny, NP7 5EU - web)
This provided our second pub band of the evening, set up on the pavement outside and entertaining the crowd with a varied selection of pop and rock covers.
It was fairly characterful inside, with wooden beams and a traditional feel, although not much uptake on the tables with most folk opting to spread across the square.
Bit of frustration that the Bank Holiday crowd had produced a queue to the bar...

But the efficient staff meant it took just a little bit longer than the cover of Jon Bon Jovi's 'Wanted Dead or Alive' for us to get served.  We had a choice of 'Butty Bach' (of course!), Felinfoel 'Double Dragon', or Wye Valley 'HPA'.
An HPA for me, taken outside and enjoyed on a rare balmy evening, with the crowd and the band providing an entertaining hour in front of the Kings Arms.

And that was our lot as far as pub explorations of Abergavenny went.
Although there was still time to revisit the Station Inn and get another pint of Bass before last orders.

From the Skirrid Inn to the Hunter's Moon

"It rains in Wales", my mum warned me when I told her we were heading to the Black Mountains for a long weekend. And as I stood in the middle of a field with mud up to the ankles in a persistent downpour, I realised she was absolutely right. (She always is).

With the hilltops shrouded in cloud and the rain looking set-in for the day, we regrettably scrapped out plans to clamber over Skirrid Mountain and went straight to the Skirrid Mountain Inn for an early lunch instead.

Skirrid Mountain Inn (Hereford Road, Llanfihangel Crucorney, NP7 8DH - web)
Set back from the road beyond some cobblestones and picnic benches, the Skirrid Inn has a fantastically old chunky wooden door that looks the part for it's claim to be Wales' oldest pub.

This took us through into a grand main bar with high ceiling, enormous fireplace, and a couple of fine old high-backed benches amongst the more conventional furniture. 
To one side is a lobby area with the modern trappings of a flat-screen TV above the bar, and the wood-panelled Mountain Restaurant room beyond this.

Available on cask was Wye Valley 'Butty Bach' or 'HPA', with an unused handpump between them.  The Butty Bach was on good form and was so quaffable that I wondered how my glass had become empty so quickly.

Legend has it that there has been an inn on this site since 1110, making it one of the countries oldest.  As with all claimants to this title, it's tricky to verify.
The current building dates back to the mid-late 17th century and has an almost castle-like feel which gives it plenty of character. 

History

And when you claim to be one of the oldest pubs in the land it's obligatory to have a ghost story or two.
The main source of these at the Skirrid Inn surround the speculation that a first floor room was used as a courthouse, possibly presided over at one point by George Jeffrey's, the 'Hanging Judge', who conducted the trials of those accused of taking part in the Monmouth Rebellion.
A small store room midway up the staircase is said to be the old holding cell where many a soul spent the night awaiting their fate.  Supposedly over 180 people were hung at the Skirrid Inn, who've handily popped the rather macabre noose in the stairway to remind you of their grisly past.

Fueled by some filling & good-value pub fodder and Butty Bach, we decided to brave the weather and tackle the walk to the nearby Beer Guide pub in Llangattock Lingoed.

If I ever produce 'Prop Up the Bar's Prodigious Pub Walks' (which will contain ways to navigate Port Meadow to reach the Wolvercote pubs with your feet still dry), I doubt this will be included.
But perhaps I'm just negative about our walk because of the miserable weather.

We struggled over pop-up streams.
I dropped our map in the mud.
The sheep and horses looked at us like we were mad as we trudged across their fields.

Fields

The final straw that turned me into a full-on grumpy wet rambler was that those red dots between Pen-Rhos and Old Court weren't a navigable path at all.  Necessitating back-tracking on ourselves and the journey taking way longer than it should have.

I was relieved to finally arrive in Llangattock Lingoed - home to 171 folk, the charming whitewashed church of St Cadoc, and the Hunter's Moon Inn...

Hunter's Moon Inn (Llangattock Lingoed, NP7 8ER - web)
It may not lay claim to be the oldest inn in Wales, but the Hunter's Moon still traces it's origins back to 1217.  This was the  time that the village church was being built and it's believed an inn to accommodate and refresh the workmen was constructed at this time.
Enter through the front door and you're in the bar with it's stone-flagged floor, warming fireplace and four large tables.  It all gets a bit brighter and more modern through the archway to left where tables are set for dining.

I ordered myself a well-deserved pint of Wye Valley 'HPA' ('Butty Bach' and Grey Trees 'Diggers Gold' being the other options).
Then laid out the map on the table so I could look like a hardy walker and scowl at the people who arrived in the comfort of their over-sized cars.  That said, I'd have accepted a lift back if anyone was offering!

Hmmm... I wonder what effect taking on the 3½ Pint Boot challenge would have on my ability to tackle the footpaths and make it back to civilisation.
Surely I could beat Henry Drooper...

We did make it back.
And shortly after we finished walking the sun came out.
Which at least provided me with blue sky pictures in Abergavenny, which is next up on the blog.