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[calendarcrawl]

January 2023

THE PEAR TREE INN

HOOK NORTON, OXFORDSHIRE

8th January 2023

And we’re back! Everyone’s favourite calendar based beer-venture has returned for the first time since Covid.

Lots has changed in those 3 fallow years: we’ve had a global pandemic, full scale war has returned to the European continent, I’ve become a dad and my daughter has seen one third as many Prime Ministers before her 2nd birthday as I’ve seen in 35 years. It’s all very strong and stable.

What hasn’t changed though is our thirst for a good pint and a nice boozer. But why pick and choose where we go to do that when we can just leave it entirely to chance? After all, we’ve had the last three years to pick and choose our drinking establishments. So what me and the boys decided, was that we needed some (more) uncertainty in our lives. Enter “Olde Worlde Inns Calendar 2023”.

January saw us roll out the red carpet to Calendar virgins, Karl Taylor and Jack Rowley, who would be picking up their first cap and joining us in our perpetual hobby of drink and bad decisions.

This month, we were thrown in at the shallow end for a relatively short drive to the Pear Tree Inn in Hook Norton, Oxfordshire. When I say “relatively short drive”, I mean it. There’s been Stranger Things episodes that are longer than the drive to Hook Norton. So we were grateful for that. But easy to get to doesn’t always mean it’s going to be easy to love...

While the calendar pub itself was a beautifully rustic, old fashioned rural boozer - the nearby town of Banbury, where we decided to try our luck for more frivolous and exotic beverages, proved to be nothing short of a clusterfuck. But let’s start at the beginning.

We started the trip with a quick pint at The Gate Hangs High on the way into Hook Norton. This was for recon purposes to see if it was worth travelling back out to later. In short, no. Nice enough place but only one ale on, and it all felt a bit light and airy in there. We like our pubs like we like our women - dark, miserable and wet (by which I mean, serving alcohol, not flooded).

Thankfully, the calendar pub had plenty of darkness and intimacy. It made a pleasant change from the typical calendar establishments, which are predominantly gastropubs you can’t wait to move on from. There was 5 or 6 cask ales on and a couple of keg lines, all predictably loaded with Hook Norton beers, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. We had a couple in there, snapped the photograph and then went for a 3 minute walk down the road to the Hook Norton Brewery.

The building itself is an old Victorian tower brewery that looks like something from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Having done a fair few brewery tours in the last year, we decided instead to just have some food and get on our drinking shoes. From what I remember, I had Pie and Mash washed down with three pints of different stuff I’ve not had before (a Rye beer, a pale ale and a gluten free beer). It also turns out we were sat next to the owners of the brewery - so after a quick chinwag with the matriarch of Hook Norton, it was time to try out the local taxi firm and check out Banbury.

The taxi dropped us off at the ‘best pub in Banbury’ Ye Olde Reine Deer Inn. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the pub. It had plenty of character and all the Hook Norton you could possibly (not) want. But in hindsight, we shouldn’t have gone here first because the Apothecary Tap (craft beer bar and main reason for our visit to Banbury) closes at 8pm on a Saturday night. And the gaffer didn’t trust us to have “just a quick one” when we rocked up at 7:45pm.

Things went from bad to worse when we ended up drinking in a pub called the Banbury Cross Inn, a place I’d file in the “Not our scene” category. We then tried to find a craft beer place called Tap Social something or other but Google Maps sent us some inaccessible route via a canal.

With the merciless sands of time pushing past 9pm and Banbury clearly suffering from some sort of post-New Year malaise, we decided to cut our losses and get a taxi back to the calendar pub (where we were also staying). If our visit to Dunkirk back in September taught us anything, it was when to call a tactical retreat.

And thankfully, that proved to be the right move because not only did we get to enjoy the Pear Tree Inn on a wintry Saturday evening, but the lovely landlady also hooked us up with a fully loaded cheeseboard on account of it being Cheese Night. And so it went, that we’d finish our trip to Hook Norton with a bit of a lock in, drinking with the staff until about 2am before finally calling it a day.

And guess what, Jon fell asleep drinking again.

[calendarcrawl]

January 2019

Roll up, roll up. It’s a new year which naturally means it’s time for a new alcohol fuelled, calendar based adventure. After very little discussion and even less persuading, the Calendar Crawl lads decided to get the band back together.

For those unfamiliar with the Calendar Crawl, we visit a different pub each month somewhere in England or Scotland and the pub is dictated by a calendar. It’s the second priciest pastime after Warhammer. This year it’s ‘Olde Worlde Inns 2019’. Ooh la la.

The last time we did this was 2016, the year that gave us Brexit, President Trump and a catalogue of untimely celebrity deaths. The travel, camaraderie and beer proved to be the perfect antidote to a batshit crazy year. And with 2019 poised to be an absolute shithouse, it’s only logical we do this again.

The Peacock Inn, Kent

This month the calendar sent us packing on a 398 mile round trip to The Peacock in Goudhurst, Kent. A beautiful old building that was supposedly a hideout in the 1700s for a murderous gang of tea smugglers called the Hawkhurst Gang. A very English racket.

The pub itself was nice and cosy, and the atmosphere was decent. The clientele ranged from young families out for a meal to middle aged blokes enjoying a Ploughman’s after a morning shooting pheasants. The cask ale selection was limited to four fairly standard Shepherd Neame beers, all of which you can get in a supermarket. The staff were friendly and even took the monthly photo for us, in the absence of our fourth Beatle and resident photographer, Ian Evans.

All in all, it was nice but we couldn’t spend a night there. So after a couple of pints, it was off into Royal Tunbridge Wells to see what other fine establishments the Garden of England had to offer. It seemed as good a time as any to see more of this beautiful county before it becomes the Lorry Park of England. Six pubs and 24 pints later, we were taken home by the nicest taxi driver ever (who correctly placed our Black Country accents), to our weird wooden motel cabin to sleep it all off.

All that’s really left to say is ‘Cheers Kent’ and ‘Yorkshire, lock up your daughters’.

It’s good to be back.

[calendarcrawl]

February 2019

The Buck Inn, Yorkshire

With January dead and buried, it’s time to flip the calendar over and see what February has in store for us. Turns out it’s a 296 mile round trip to the dales of Malham in the land of stone walls and gravy - North Yorkshire.

But we’re not here to hike up into Malham Cove and admire the natural beauty of its waterfalls and rock formations. Oh no. We’re here to sit inside some of its oldest and cosiest pubs and drink ourselves into oblivion.

We started off at the Calendar pub itself, the Buck Inn. It’s a very Yorkshire looking pub, built in 1874 on the site of an old coaching inn. It’s now a busy outpost for hikers and dog walkers. Unsurprisingly, the clientele were very Regatta and we were certainly the only four blokes walking in there with a calendar, an insatiable thirst and a complete disinterest in walking.

We ticked off the five cask ales (three Timothy Taylors and two Dark Horse Brewery) which were generally good but one had definitely started turning to vinegar. Overall though, it was fine. The staff, the atmosphere, the beer - all inoffensive and fine. Though at an average of £4.20 a pint, on the expensive side.

As with January’s pub, we couldn’t see ourselves in the Buck for the long haul, so we went back to our B&B pub down the road in Hellifield, The Black Horse. Now that was a great pub.

They had some tasty local ales, some wholesome home-cooked food and staff that pulled out all the stops to make you feel welcome. They even sorted us a taxi for an evening trip to nearby Skipton where we observed the locals in their natural environment. We even saw a coach party of Rugby lads in matching blazers scrap each other on the streets. It was a thoroughly enjoyable trip.

Also worthy of a mention was the Sunday morning fry up. It proved to be a highlight for all, and the generous variety of condiments on the table allowed Steveo to finally settle which brown sauce was better: HP or Daddies. (Spoiler alert: HP won)

The only downside was returning to my new car in the morning to see it totally caked in bird shit. And I mean Totally Caked. It was a god damn twig and berry shat-massacre. Should I ever return, I’ll be stalking that car park with a cosh and murderous intent. Bird bastards.

Anyway, this has gone on long enough. Thanks for reading.

Until next month.

[calendarcrawl]

March 2019

Bear and Bells, Suffolk

On the day a million people marched on London to stop Brexit, four men travelled three and a half hours east to Suffolk on more important business - to honour the will of the Calendar.

It was a gruelling 396 mile round trip down long, speed restricted A-roads. It was the sort of drive that, were it not for the good company and the promise of pint by the end of it, you’d surely want to wrap your car around the nearest tree.

What lay at the end of the long trip was Beccles, a Royston Vasey-esque town with a deep affinity for fox hunting and a deep-seated suspicion of out of towners.

The pub we were there to visit was the Bear and Bells, a picturesque (albeit pink) pub in the centre of town. Not only was it a first for us in that it was our first pink pub, but it was also the first pub that was remotely interested in our expedition. So it was nice to shoot the shit with the landlady over a few pints.

On the subject of the landlady, a cursory glance at the TripAdvisor reviews revealed that she was a controversial publican that rules with an iron fist (see attached screen grab). And while she did show some veiled glimmers of racism, xenophobia and homophobia - as well as some Spice Girls themed phone pornography - we found her welcoming, good humoured and mostly harmless.

The ale selection was nothing special but every pint was a good one; enough to keep us in the calendar pub for more than a quick pint and photo opp. As well as the Bear and Bells, we also visited another five pubs including a pub that does oak-fired pizzas, a former British Legion that is now adorned in fox hunting trophies and a Wetherspoons Hotel with arguably the most elaborate and least navigable corridors of any hotel. At times it felt like we were stalking the tunnels of Tora Bora in search of Bin Laden in Room 302.

All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable trip in a lovely East Anglian setting, yielding enough anecdotes to keep us entertained on the next long car journey.

Cheers Beccles, it was a pleasure.

[calendarcrawl]

April 2019

The Clachan, London

There’s an Easter Rising and it’s in my pants because this Easter weekend, the Calendar is sending us down to the Big Smoke. The Big L. The capital city of Un-united States of Brexit!

On this absolute scorchio of a day, we ventured down to Oxford Circus to brave the eye candy and climate protestors, for this month’s calendar pub - The Clachan.

Before we go any further, it’s important to note that only three of the four of us made the trip today. That’s because Steveo, due to the conditions of his parole, can only be in London for one weekend a month. And this month he used it at Wembley for the Wolves FA Cup Semi Final (Yes, I’m sure he regrets it). He did however make sure he visited the pub and got his own pic which is included in this post. So well played, sir!

Anyway, let’s unleash the Clachan! The pub itself is a lovely old building next door to the Liberty department store. Supposedly an historic favourite for Special Police Constables, it’s quite easy to imagine Met officers lurking in the dark corners of the pub taking bribes, only yesterday.

As a pub though, it was just a Nicholson’s. You could get the same experience going to the Old Joint Stock in Brum. And the thing is with London, it’s all so impersonal (and £5.10 a pint). Nobody cares you’re there or why. Which in turn made it easy for us to go elsewhere.. and go elsewhere we did (to find a cheaper pint).

On our Google Maps, we set a Canadian Sports bar in Covent Garden as the target. Mainly because I wanted to try Poutine. It was a 19 minute walk away. And that sounds easy, doesn’t it?

Yeah, well, this 19 minute walk took 4 hours because we stopped off at 5 other pubs on the way. But don’t get me wrong, it was a great pub crawl along some of London’s finest backstreets. It was lovely and historical and we probably frequented a boozer that Oscar Wilde shagged a bloke in, though it wasn’t written on a blue plaque.

We did however find the Poutine. A delightful make up of chips, gravy and cheese curds. It sounds repulsive, but you really have to eat it to understand it. And that more or less rounds up our day trip to London.

Next month we’ll be back up to full force and in the Lake District. But in the meantime, have a great Easter everybody.

[calendarcrawl]

May 2019

The Britannia Inn, Cumbria

“How was your Calendar Crawl trip to the Lake District?”

A question so loaded that it’s taken me 5 days to formulate an answer. This month the calendar sent us on a 332 mile round trip to the Britannia Inn at Elterwater, due north of Lake Windermere. It’s the furthest north we’ve been sent on a Calendar Crawl so far and one I was looking forward to, being in such beautiful surrounds. And that’s one thing it certainly delivered, bloody lovely scenery in seasonable weather. It gave us high hopes… perhaps a little TOO high.

Due to football related activities, we postponed the drive up north until mid-afternoon meaning that we arrived late by our usual standards. We rocked up at the Britannia about ‪5pm‬, the beer garden was in full bloom with North Face twats and German tourists. But we would not be deterred, we were here for a good time and good beer – and with a wide selection of locally brewed ales – we were in with a good chance of getting it. However, the barman had other ideas. Despite us being stood right in front of him, he (unsuccessfully) attempted to ignore us in an effort to serve a busty blonde lady, who was clearly not finished looking at the menu. Now we’ve all been snubbed at the bar before, or unjustly beaten to the punch by a latecomer with an imposing bar presence. But never have I really experienced a barman trying to pretend I’m not there while trying to serve somebody who isn’t ready to be served. In the end, we didn’t give him a choice; “Four pints of something local please, you cunt” (or much politer words to that effect).

After getting our drinks, we moved outside to the beer garden to scope out our photo op. And in another first, we (for some reason) took the executive decision to not even bother posing for the photo and instead utilise the moderately busy beer garden to replicate our very own shit version of ‘Where’s Wally?’. So enjoy the five second search for us in the photo below.

Due to time restraints and drink driving laws, we had to move on from the Britannia and head to Hawkshead where we’d be staying for the night, in a pub called the Red Lion Inn. Now, if you like old fashioned digs where the sink is in your bedroom rather than your bathroom then this is the place for you. And if you like living dangerously and sleeping in rooms with no working locks on the door, then I can highly recommend Room 5. When we flagged up that our door wouldn’t lock and that you could basically push the door open with a finger, we were assured that “although we can’t do anything now, it’ll be fixed by the end of the night”. A reassurance delivered with such conviction, I forgot to believe it. Fortunately, there was a chair in the room which we wedged against the door, effectively keeping us rape-proof for the night.

Red Lion aside though, Hawkshead was mostly fun for most of us. The bonus of 4 pubs within pissing distance of each other in the village square meant we could flit between boozers and maraud the taps at our leisure. The Queen’s Head was a highlight for beer and whisky, and the King’s Arms was a highlight for the Cumberland Sausage and Mash and its very lax closing time. To Hawkshead’s credit, the other three pubs ensured we were pissed enough to face the prospect of returning to the Red Lion.

The next morning, we were woken up by the horrendous wailing of a fire alarm (probably a kitchen fire). We lay there pondering just how long you leave it before you get out of bed and into the hallway to shrug at everybody else who has done the same. We also considered that maybe it wasn’t enough that we’d just had a wretched stay here, but that we’d also have to die in this hell-hole. Fortunately, the alarm ceased after a few minutes. We all agreed to get changed and get the fuck out before facing the prospect of being poisoned at breakfast. A choice that felt immediately vindicating as we walked past the kitchen and heard a bantering chef shout “He’s about as much a chef as I am a black man!”. Yep, let’s go.

On the way out, we got collared by a member of staff who was setting up for breakfast; she seemed disappointed that we weren’t staying for food. She even offered to give us bacon baps for the road, but at this point the line between ‘just being friendly’ and ‘eager to poison us’ was dangerously blurred. We flatly declined and decided to put as much daylight between us and Hawkshead as possible.

So yeah, “how was your Calendar Crawl trip to the Lake District?”… No, I’m still not sure.

* * *

In June, the Calendar has tasked us with a not-too-heavy trip to the Marches – we’ll be stopping over in Ross-on-Wye, which we’re hoping, at the very least will have accommodation with working locks.

[calendarcrawl]

June 2019

Man of Ross, Hereford

It feels like it’s been an age since that trip to Cumbria - and not just because we’ve been dying to forget about it. It has actually been 7 weeks since that misadventure; an unusually large gap between pubs.

This month the Calendar sent us on a fairly compassionate 144 mile round trip to Ross-on-Wye, due south of Hereford. A beautiful borderland populated by locals that neither the Welsh nor the English want to claim. The calendar pub we’re there to visit is The Man of Ross, a pub that’s so proud to be what it is that it’s started painting its own Wikipedia entry on the pub itself.

So what would this pub, named after the town’s favourite philanthropist, have in store for us on the 3rd anniversary of Brexit Day?

Not a fat lot actually. In total I think it was a couple of Wye Valley ales (which I can’t knock) and a urinal trough full to the brim with piss covered 2p coins and rusty nails (it looks better in your mind, I assure you). I think in total we were there for about 40 minutes tops. At this point, halfway through this year’s challenge, I think it’s fair to say the four of us are pretty underwhelmed by the choice of pubs for this years’ calendar. It certainly hasn’t delivered any boozy gems with real ale longevity that have tempted us to ‘stick’ rather than ‘twist’. 2016’s calendar had pubs such as the Duke of Wellington in Southampton and the Ship Inn in Porlock. But this year, we’ve had flying visits for a quick pint and photo before spiriting away for a slap-up pub crawl. And if there’s one thing that Ross-on-Wye could facilitate, it was certainly that.

In total we hit 12 pubs, each varying in quality and beer selection. We had a pint in the sunshine on the bank of the river Wye at the White Lion. Enjoyed panoramic views atop the Royal Hotel. Shared the bar with burly crossdressing locals in the King’s Head Hotel, like in some League of Gentleman sketch. And we got scammed into buying far too much tapas in Leonard’s @ 39. All of which were pleasurable experiences I’d recommend - even the crossdressing locals.

On the flip-side, we also had to endure some real piss and vinegar pubs - and that was just their beer selection. Suffice to say, when you’re enjoying a bottle of Hooch in an empty nightclub at 10pm opening time, you really have to take a hard look at yourselves. It’s a good job that the end of our crawl landed us at a fantastic and highly rated micro pub called The Tap House, where we chewed the fat and drank a wide selection of beers with some relatively normal locals. It would’ve been a fitting end to the night, alas, we had to catch our pre-booked taxi (because they only do pre-booked taxis in this place) from the Mail Room, Ross-on-Wye’s very own Wetherspoons. It was what you’d expect at 1am in the early hours of a Sunday morning.

From there, it was back to a lovely B&B to sleep it off. The next morning, our host made us an impressive Full English and I repaid the favour by blocking the shit outta the toilet. You’re. Welcome.

It’s Dorset next month, for what will likely be a flying visit to some poncey, overpriced food pub with ales you can buy in a supermarket. Don’t worry though, we’ll make something out of it. We always do.

[calendarcrawl]

July 2019

The Langton Arms, Dorset

We’re now past the halfway point of this year’s Calendar Crawl, and we’re hurtling towards a manic finish. In the months to come, we’ll travel further north and south than we’ve ever been in Crawl history. We’ll also be visiting our first calendar pub not in England, so there’s plenty to look forward to. This month though it’s all about Jolly Olde, as we embark on a 310 mile round trip to Dorset.

July’s calendar pub - the Langton Arms, is a charming 15th century inn with a thatched roof that’s accessible via a ford. It’s situated next to an old 13th century church, in a village called Tarrant Monkton, where all the houses seem to have thatched rooves also. There was even a wedding going on. It was all very wholesome. I’d go as far to say that had the weather been grey and pissing drizzle everywhere – it would’ve been the most English place I’ve ever been to.

Flicking through the calendar at the beginning of the year, I felt totally indifferent at the prospect of this trip. As the months rolled on though, I was beginning to dread it. As mentioned last month, every pub so far has been the sort of place you want to spend all of 20 minutes in before moving on. And with this place being in the middle of nowhere specific, there was a very real prospect that we might end up trapped in the only pub in a village named after nobody’s favourite Who Wants To Be A Millionaire host.

But as promised last month, we always make something of it. So after visiting the Langton Arms, drinking a couple of decent local beers and getting a photo (complete with bride from the wedding), it was off to some fucking place called Wimborne Minster (I swear I’m not making these names up). However, it was by no fluke that we ended up here - Steveo, our Director of Ale had done his research and apparently this was the place for us. It was either Wimborne or Salisbury - but we’re still banned from Salisbury for playing with Novichok last April.

As it happens though, Wimborne Minster was an inspired choice. We checked in at our B&B and the host kindly offered us a lift into town in her Mini Cooper. This was free and seemed like a great idea until you realise that you’re four grown men getting a lift in a Mini Cooper. Still, nothing a bit of contortion can’t solve.

After what felt like a five hour drive, we arrived in town and kicked off the mini pub crawl. We visited five pubs in total, all a short walk apart. For food - we managed to negotiate a table in a fully booked, Michelin guide (not quite Michelin star) pub restaurant called the Tickled Pig. And for drink - we spent most of our night in two excellent craft beer bars (The Taphouse and The Butcher’s Dog).

All in all, a great night was had, and the town with the weird name left a positive impression. The only thing that was missing in the end was a Full English the next day - but then that's the risk you take when booking B&Bs with creepy pig paintings on the wall. To leave it on a positive though, there was an overriding sense among the four of us that this was one of the best trips this year.

Cheers Dorset.

[calendarcrawl]

August 2019

The Peacock Inn, Derbyshire

We’ve had a fair few long distance trips in recent months, so August’s 162 mile round trip to Derbyshire was welcomed with open arms. This month we were galavanting through the Peak District to visit Bakewell; a picturesque market town famous for its tarts. And more importantly home to some great local breweries.

The pub we were there to visit was the Peacock Inn. We can probably chalk this one off as yet another gastropub that puts more investment in its diners than its drinkers. It was a nice pub, in a great central location and also had three local Peak ales on. But there was nothing there that made us want to stay any longer than half an hour. Not when Buxton Brewery was just down the road with over 20 different beers to try.

As is increasingly the case on the Crawl this year, it’s the little subplots that have provided most of the talking points - not the Calendar pub itself. And this was no different. We were staying in a hotel called the Buckingham Hotel in Buxton. First impressions being that it felt like the hotel out of The Shining. It was old, decrepit and there were large rooms that were just empty. The hotel bar was like a saloon that was in the middle of a refurb. And the long corridors were lined with pictures of actors and sports personalities. Our room was quite intriguing in that it had six different photos of Winona Ryder in her earlier years. By no means unpleasant but certainly inexplicable.

Other than a bloke in the aforementioned saloon bar, who accused Steveo of stealing the pen he was using to fill in his betting slips (allegedly it was pink so people wouldn’t steal it), we didn’t really see anybody in the hotel. Nor did we intend to, so it was off to the Buxton Brewery for some grub and liquor.

For anybody in the area for some reason, I’d highly recommend the Buxton Brewery tap room. There’s two bars to choose from and there’s some great food and a wide selection of beer - including some Ice Cream IPAs with actual ice cream on top. It was enough to keep us there all night. Potentially even longer because Jon drank himself into an early slumber. So naturally we got the staff to pose for pictures with us and our sleeping friend, which they duly obliged.

The next morning, we read 1 star reviews of local cafes and sized up pictures of Full English’s to decide where we’d lay our hats for breakfast. It turned out to be a great choice, and was officially the first Full English I’ve had which featured an oatcake. Lovely.

Next month we're in Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire. We intend to be loitering with intent around Hook Norton Brewery.

[calendarcrawl]

September 2019

The Blue Boar, Chipping Norton

After a fairly local jolly up north to Derbyshire back in August, this month it was time for a fairly local jolly down south to Chipping Norton in Oxfordshire. We were off to sip beers in the Cotswolds and breathe in the same air as notable residents, Jeremy Clarkson and David Cameron. All cunts aside though, it was a pretty nice town.

The pub with the calendar bragging rights this month is The Blue Boar; a former coaching inn (as so many of these calendar pubs are) dating back to 1641. We arrived there just after half 3 on a Saturday afternoon, or maybe it was just before 4 - I can’t be certain. The only thing I am sure of is that it was enough time for Wolves to have conceded 3 first half goals to Chelsea. Given that half of the Calendar Crawl contingent are Wolves fans, this was probably one of the reasons why the rounds started flowing thick and fast.

In the grand scheme of things, I think this was probably the longest time and most beer we’ve drunk in a calendar pub this year. It wasn’t because it was anything special per se, in fact it was pretty dead for a Saturday afternoon. But there were a few drinks we’d never had before and there was some prime real estate at the bar (for clarity, I’m referring to barstools not barmaids). After a few drinks there, we made the 20 second walk down the hill to a neighbouring pub called The Chequers - another fine establishment.

From there we decided to check out the three other pubs we’d earmarked as being worth the visit, including The King’s Arms which was providing us with our bed for the night. There was the Fox which had a wide variety of Hook Norton beers on tap but nothing we asked for on their food menu. And then the Red Lion which ended up hosting a heated debate with a local as to whether Chipping Norton is in the Midlands or the South-East.

In between those two pubs, we went for our first ever Calendar Crawl curry. I’m actually quite surprised we haven’t been for a curry sooner given the amount of quaint English towns we’ve visited. But I suppose quintessential pub grub goes hand in hand with all the ale, throwing in a different cuisine could potentially knock us off kilter. Something which Steveo actually proved when he inexplicably ordered a bottle of red wine despite not really liking it.

To top the night off, we went for a nightcap in the King’s Arms where they were throwing a ‘British Party’ and everybody was cross-dressing as Spice Girls. A couple of drinks in and they called last orders, while the DJ segued from dance floor classics like David Bowie’s Let’s Dance to the couldn’t-be-less-British sounds of Rammstein and Slipknot. We’re not really sure how it ended up that way, but end it did. About 1ish, we went back to our converted barn family room, complete with spiral stairs and mezzanine floor.

And with that we said goodbye to Chipping Norton, the last of the Calendar pubs with a mercifully short travel time. Because we’ll be covering well over 1000 miles in these next three months with trips to Cornwall, Edinburgh and Newcastle. It’s gonna be heavy but it’s gonna be worth it.

[calendarcrawl]

October 2019

The Old Inn, Mullion

So it’s Halloween and you didn’t get your Brexit. However, if there’s one thing that the Brexit deadline can deliver before midnight - it’s the October Calendar Crawl report.

For the record, this months’ Calendar extravaganza actually took place on the 4th October. So it’d be fair to say that the write up is slightly overdue. But at least you can rest safely in the knowledge that the scariest thing you’ll encounter this Halloween is my slothfulness.

This month we were shat forth down the M5 to certain inebriation in Cornwall. The pub we were tasked with visiting was the Old Inn at Mullion - a stone’s throw from mainland Britain’s most southerly point, the Lizard.

Being as the pub was so far in the middle of beautiful nowhere, we decided to combine it with a night in nearby Falmouth where there was a big beer festival on. Knowing full well that we’d hit the kegs hard later that evening, we kept the visit to the Old Inn civilised.

It was a lovely village pub, it had a dart board and three St Austell ales. But as ever, once we’ve snapped the picture and drank our pint, it’s really time to be moving on. As we were in the neighbourhood, we stopped off at Lizard Point - scenery so stunning and windy that it nearly blew us away.

From there it was on to the beer festival, which truly was a delightful experience. For those that have ever been to a CAMRA festival in the Midlands, you’ll know the demographic; pot bellied, middle aged men with grey hair and strong opinions on beer and/or politics. Basically a nightmarish vision of our future selves.

But in Falmouth, the festival was the heart of the town and there was a cross section of every demographic in the community. Young, old, black, white, crusty, clean. All drinking beer and inhaling each other’s beer farts in perfect harmony. It was like a depraved Benneton’s advert.

We broke the sesh up with dinner at a pizza and cider house called The Stables. A place I’d thoroughly recommend if you’re in the area.

This Calendar Crawl was a milestone for us for two reasons. Firstly, it’s the furthest south we’ve travelled on one of these things. Secondly though, we welcomed on board the first female on a Crawl - Annie Homer, a girl with a fearsome reputation for knowing her way round a Fruit de Mer (as well as being Jon’s fiancée).

Because we were hosting a guest, and because the journey was so fucking long. We decided to break up the journey home with an overnight stop in Exmouth, where the town was celebrating Oktoberfest. While we there, Annie introduced to the restaurant Rockfish, where we ate oysters and a whole fucking fish with a head and everything. I think it was a Gurnard - either way it was delicious.

And that, more or less, is that.

Over the course of the weekend, we clocked up 11 and a half hours of driving and covered 609 miles. A new personal best. However, it’s likely to be a short lived record given our plans for November and December.

So watch this space.

[calendarcrawl]

November 2019

The White Hart Inn, Edinburgh

It’s been a divisive couple of weeks, but while Facebook, Twitter and the country as a whole were shit-talking each other over who was gonna vote for who; a crack team of drinkers with varying political views pressed on with a (more important) common cause.

No more dither, no more delay. Get the Calendar Crawl done!

November and December’s trips took place in one pre-festive beer orgy a few weekends ago. But in keeping with previous write ups, I’ll post November now and leave Father Seshmas to deliver December’s next week.

As with the Crawl itself, there’s a lot of ground to cover, so let’s get straight into it. For November, the Calendar was sending us north of the wall to Edinburgh. Pretty harsh. Not only that though, but in December, to finish the year, it was making us visit Washington in Tyne & Wear. Now, we love travel - we wouldn’t be doing this shit if we didn’t. But even for us, a couple of return trips that far north, back to back, heading into a busy festive period was going to be difficult. So it required a bit of creative problem solving.

Fortunately for us, November turned to December mid-weekend, meaning that there was an opportunity to do Edinburgh & Washington in the same trip. All it meant, was a shit load of driving… but needs must. We didn’t spend 10 months visiting places like Beccles, Goudhurst and Blandford Forum just to shy away from piss ups in Edinburgh and Newcastle. So off we went, similar lineup to last time, but with our ranks bolstered by my wife - Katie Allen, who is either long suffering or very lucky (depending on who you ask). She is also the second female to join the ranks of the Calendar Crawl since it became an equal opportunity institution of Sesh Gremlins.

In an attempt to break up the drive, we opted to do a stop off somewhere cool on the Friday. And nothing seemed cooler than every fat goth’s spiritual homeland, Whitby. The home of fish and chips and Dracula. To get there, we had a kick ass drive over the North Yorkshire Moors during the golden sunset and it was truly some of the most beautiful scenery we’ve seen so far. The best of England. Scenery so good, it makes you want to sink a fucking ale or ten. And that’s precisely what we did.

Parking up, we took in the scenery of the ruined Whitby Abbey and headed down the cliffs into the town. From there, with no calendar pub to consider, it was a straight forward case of a good old fashioned pub crawl. We ended up doing 9 in total, including two we found on a list of ‘Pubs to Maybe Avoid’ because they can be “quite local”. One of those however, the Jolly Sailor, was actually one of the most enjoyable. A traditional cash only establishment, packed with crusty sea dog locals and a strictly enforced No Swearing, No Phones/Laptops/Tablets policy (but Smart Watches are okay). Once we’d weathered the initial heckling upon arrival, we ended up having a jolly old time. And because of the screen ban, we actually had to look at and talk to each other, which we haven’t done in years but actually quite enjoyed.

We were told a trip to Whitby is never complete without fish and chips, so for dinner we went to the Magpie Café following a recommendation. And yeah, bloody good cod! Other pubs worthy of a mention are the Quirky Den, a cosy micro pub with different local ales and ciders. And the Golden Lion, an old fashioned boozer where we finished off with rum and ginger beer cocktails and fiercely competitive games of Jenga.

The next morning, it was time for a 3 hour 45 minute drive north to the land of Haggis and Nicola Sturgeon. For the first time the Calendar Crawl has taken us out of England on our ale-chasing adventures. It was time for Edinburgh. With a quick piss break in Lindisfarne to break up the drive and stock up on mead.

Not only had we left the visit to Scotland late, we’d also unintentionally timed it with St Andrew’s Day - so we were sure to be in for a good night. But before things could get really messy, we had to head to the Grassmarket for our penultimate calendar pub - The White Hart Inn. Allegedly haunted, but undoubtedly one of the city’s oldest, the White Hart has apparently hosted many historical figures; including England’s very own regicidal maniac, Oliver Cromwell. You’ll be hard pressed to find revolutionaries of that ilk boozing there anymore though, it was just hoaching with students, tourists and probably pished up locals alike. It was probably one of the nicer calendar pubs, but as it was so busy, we figured it was probably best to go and check in at the AirBNB and dump our bags.

We managed to find a really affordable place to stay; very central, very discreet, luxurious bathroom, free sanitary towels. You know the type of place. It’s got a couple of double bedrooms, some childish beaded curtains hanging on the wall, a dressing table covered in blonde hair and a wardrobe with a hole punched in it. You know the type of place. A plastic bag taped over the fire alarm, a handbag full of stolen makeup in the cupboard, straightener marks and a couple of condom wrappers on the bedroom floor. You know the place. No milk though. Not initially anyway - though the AirBNB host did bring us some with the bottle of red he’d also got us as compensation for giving us the wrong key.

Yeah, we think all the evidence points to our digs probably being used as a knocking shop and/or a cam girls bedroom studio. But man, it was warm and the beds were comfy so it wasn’t all bad. But back to the sesh…

Having finally been able to lock the apartment, we went out into the frosty winters’ night for a bit of a Crawl. We walked through the park, in the icy shadow of the castle on that big fucking rock, and checked out a couple of recommended pubs. The Cold Town House was a personal highlight, a brewery pub with a rooftop bar and some live music. Honourable mentions to The Bow Bar, The Jolly Judge and the Hanover Tap. All offering a good amount of quality ale in bustling but friendly environments.

Throughout this year, we’ve been keeping some interesting stats for the final write up. We’ve kept a record of every round, how much we’ve spent, how many pints we’ve drunk and how many pubs we’ve been to. And it was during a pint or two in the Hanover Tap that we started crunching some numbers and realised that we were actually sitting in our 87th pub of the year. And then that got us thinking, can we make that 100 by the end of the Calendar Crawl in Newcastle? It was quarter to midnight when we realised this, that meant we had about 24 hours to fit in another 13 pubs, but we’d also have to fit some sleep in at our brothel, and have a 3 hour drive down to Washington and Newcastle. But still, we were confident this was achievable.

So did we do it? Well, as this is already 1000 words too long. I’m gonna leave all that for the next update. So find out next week how many pubs we visited, miles we travelled and more depressingly how much money we’ve pissed away on this year long booze cruise.

Thanks for reading.

[calendarcrawl]

December 2019

The Washington Arms, Washington

As this year and this decade comes to a close, it’s time to conclude 2019’s booze-fuelled adventure.

If you’ve read the latest write up, you’ll remember we spent the last orders of November in a cosy, makeshift AirBNB-cum-brothel (probably literally), having set ourselves a last minute challenge of reaching 100 pubs for the year. Upon leaving Edinburgh, we were on 89 pubs - leaving ourselves a steady target of 11.

We knew we still had the calendar pub, The Washington Arms, in the bag. And there was also a great opportunity to make it 90 at the halfway point of our 2 and half hour drive, as we made another stop at the Lindisfarne services which is conveniently located next door to a big old roadside pub called The Lindisfarne Inn. The smell and temptation of a Sunday roast was strong when we rocked up about half 1. But no, we wouldn’t deviate from the plan, this was just a passing visit. Something I seemed determined to prove as I thoughtlessly went to tank a quick half of gone off, vinegary ale. After the heaving had stopped, I got the half changed and tried again.

Anyway with pub 90 checked off, it was all SatNavs set to Washington where we’d be visiting the final calendar pub of the year. We arrived during the golden hour of dusk, passing that iconic metal monstrosity, the Angel of the North, on the way. The Washington Arms was a pleasant pub overlooking the village green. It didn’t offer anything special in terms of real ale but it was a nice place to spend half hour on a wintry late afternoon. Were it not for the fact we were on a mission, we would’ve stayed for a Sunday Roast. God knows I love a roast.

While we got the photograph outside, we also noticed there was another pub next door called the Cross Keys. Seeing a quick win, we went for a swifty in there - and a swifty was all it needed to be as the place was an absolute dive. From there, we went to ditch the cars in Newcastle city centre so we could continue the quest to 100 - now with only 6 hours to go and 8 pubs needed.

It was here that we encountered temptation of the highest level, the sort of shit Jesus encountered when he was out on his own in the desert... The Newcastle Tap. This oasis of inebriation was an absolutely belting craft beer bar that also specialised in beer-dough pizzas. The walls were covered in beer taps, the selection seemed endless and the pizzas were delicious. It gave us the one thing that none of this years’ calendar pubs could, that feeling that we could’ve just stayed there all night - like a hot young boyfriend with strong arms. But after setting ourselves the challenge and being within pissing distance, we all agreed this would be a bittersweet way to finish the crawl. So while we nursed our pizza comas, I put together a list of nearby pubs that we could blitz to finally achieve our quest for 100.

We planned a route that looped round a few blocks, meaning we could potentially end up finishing at the Newcastle Tap for last orders, once we’d reached our milestone. So off we went into the Newcastle night, singing the Fog on the Tyne in unison. The road to 100 was a mixed bag, there was a chain pub (Head of Steam), city centre bars (Waiting Room), a Wetherspoons (Mile Castle) and a couple of wretched shitholes with intimidating Geordie locals and bad karaoke (Star Inn and Rafferty’s respectively). But we undoubtedly saved the best til last.

The Prohibition was our 100th pub of the year and as the name might suggest, it was designed as a swanky old speakeasy. No taps, just bottles and cans hidden behind doors that look like bookshelves. It was truly rewarding (and damn lucky) that we got such a memorable experience for our milestone pub. We enjoyed it so much, we stayed until last orders which ultimately meant that we wouldn’t make it back to the Newcastle Tap before close. But that was okay with us because we’d been on a journey - an epic crusade of ale and adventure, but in microcosm. And that’s what the whole Calendar Crawl experience was about: new places, new beer but the same old friends to enjoy whatever ale house and hovel comes before us.

It’s fair to say that throughout the year, we’ve covered a lot of miles and we’ve spent a lot of money. The true extent of this is revealed on the stats below. With the amount of miles travelled this year, we could’ve driven to Addis Ababa in Ethiopia or Islamabad in Pakistan. Further west, we could’ve overshot Chicago and ended up in the middle of Manitoba, Canada. But no, we spent those miles traversing the corners of this fair country. And at a time of such division and uncertainty, when people are just being arseholes to each other, it was nice each month to venture out and experience some pub grade humanity. Pubs have long been the centre of communities and they continue to be to this day. And all I can say for 2020 is let’s have more of it. The world is not a cold, dark place - even though sometimes - the pubs we’re sat in might be.

I hope you’ve all had a fantastic Christmas, thank you so much for reading. And a big fuck off Happy New Year to you and yours.

Let’s see the Crawl out, as promised, with some stats...

Miles travelled: 3833

Pints drunk: 468

Pubs visited: 100

Bar Tab: £2014.82

Average Drink: £4.31

Total hours travelled: 77 hours 34 mins

Priciest pint: £5.10 (Clachan, London)

Cheapest pint: £3.20 (Washington Arms, Washington)

Average price of pint: £4.08

Times Calendar Forgotten: 2/12

Furthest distance travelled to pub: 278 miles (Edinburgh, Scotland)

Shortest distance travelled to pub: 73 miles (Chipping Norton, Oxford)

Sunday Roasts eaten: 0

Blowjobs off groupies: 2 (no further comment here)

[calendarcrawl]

January 2016

The King Arms Wakefield, Yorkshire In an attempt to see more of this fair country('s pubs), myself and Jon are embarking on Calendar Crawl 2016. Using a calendar called 'Old English Pubs' we are visiting a different pub every month, drinking their beer and stealing their women. This month it's The King Arms near Wakefield in Yorkshire.

[calendarcrawl]

February 2016

The Barge Inn Battlesbridge, Essex Feburary takes us to The Barge Inn, a fancy little number in the middle of the Essex countryside which boasts open fires, fancy surroundings and expensive beer.

[calendarcrawl]

March 2016

The Duke of Wellington Southampton, Hampshire The calendar takes us (and it won't be the only time) to the south coast, to a lovely old pub that's been knocking about since the 1200's. The Duke of Wellington boasts 9 different cask ales and tasty plates of cod and chips the size of small children.

For the first time we were able to really connect with the bar staff, who loved the concept of what we're doing while also being blissfully unaware that they even featured in this calendar.

Note: this photo was taken the morning after the night before. So this post is not indicative of the time we've drunk 9 ales.

[calendarcrawl]

April 2016

The Ship Inn Porlock, Somerset

Six weeks after March's visit to Southampton, April whisks us away to a pub in the middle of the Exmoor National Park.

The Ship Inn at Porlock boasts 8 local ales including the formidable, local dark beer, Exmoor Beast. It also has a corner dedicated to Robert Southey, who's most known for his famous poem Xanadu, which was left unfinished after he was allegedly interrupted by a 'person from Porlock'.

With that in mind, so long as the beer is flowing tonight, we'll potentially be ruining literary history for years to come.