A Dirty Job for the Gull-able? by Man in a Hat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

( All Words & Images by Man In A Hat.)

 

Torquay Here We Come

 

So, it’s off to sunny Devon. Although I won’t be visiting many pubs, you can find out more about any I do mention at www.whatpub.com

 

I’m starting out from my parents’ house in Sutton Coldfield, as I had a meeting with my Dad’s Social Worker the day before. However, as she didn’t turn up, I may as well have stuck to plan A and travelled from Stockport. And, as a consequence, the review of the conditions of my Dad’s ASBO will now have to wait.

 

As suggested by my Brother, I’m trying out this Split My Fare website (https://www.splitmyfare.co.uk/), which promises to get you cheaper train tickets by splitting the journey up into a long series of separate tickets. The fact that such a company exists is further evidence, if any were needed, that the trains need to be renationalised as soon as possible.

 

However, the details of my expedition are:-

 

·       Get the Bournemouth train from Stockport using a ticket to Stoke

·       At Stoke, stay on the train in the same seat, using a ticket from Stoke to Birmingham

·       Change at Birmingham and get the Plymouth train using a ticket to Cheltenham

·       At Cheltenham, stay on the train, but change seats, using a ticket to Bristol

·       At Bristol, stay on the train, but change seats, using a ticket to Newton Abbot

·       Change at Newton Abbot and get the train to Torquay, using a ticket to Torquay

 

I’m already in Birmingham of course, so I can dodge the first 2 steps, so what could be simpler? I now have a mere 4 tickets and 3 different seat reservations in 2 different coaches to deal with. As you know, I don’t carry a mobile device, so all of these tickets are little cards, neatly stacked and ready for action.

 

As the train arrives in Birmingham, I’m looking out for Coach E for my first seat reservation.

 

No Coach E! Oh well, I get on Coach F, where I manage to find an unreserved seat, which means that I won’t need to do any seat swapping during the journey. Happy days.

 

Better get started on the crossword. Flightless bird from Iceland (6,7)? Perhaps I’ll try the Sudoku instead.

 

During the course of the journey, through regular apologies from the Train Manager, we learn that Coach E was left in Manchester, together with Coach G. We’re never told whether this was on purpose or by accident, but I’m secretly hoping it’s the latter.

 

Not a single ticket check is performed! And, the barriers were down at Birmingham New Street, so I could have gotten to Torquay without paying.

 

My rough plan is to explore Torquay this evening, go to Plainmoor to get a ticket tomorrow, then walk along the coast to Paignton, leaving Saturday to visit the pubs near the ground and to get pictures of the Blue Army.

 

Flightless bird from Iceland (6,7), 3^rd letter is O, 2^nd word ends N?

 

Aside from a drunken Cockney who thinks she is Pat Butcher, and keeps shouting “get out of my pub” (censored), followed by a profuse apology for swearing, I arrive in Torquay without incident. 

 

In a Hole Again

 

I’d forgotten that Torquay town centre is about a 25 minute- walk from the Train Station, but as it’s low tide, this does afford me the opportunity to walk along the beach. There is plenty of evidence of the damage inflicted by Storm Arwen, presumably named after Elrond’s daughter of Lord of the Rings fame?    

 

I get lost on the way to the guesthouse of course, but a kindly Devonian Lady soon puts “my lovely” on the right track. There seems to be a remarkable amount of dog dirt on the pavements, perhaps just due to there being more dogs down here?

 

I’d been looking forward to kidding you all that I was staying at Fawlty Towers, but nothing could be further from the truth. Following a charming welcome from a Thai Gentleman, I’m shown to my room, where I find chocolate, biccies, and a complementary bowl of fruit. And, no rubber sheets!

 

One bar of soap short of perfection.

 

I’m staying at Hotel Peppers, which is really more of a guesthouse. The couple running it only took over 3 weeks ago. Apparently, tonight is gourmet night, some Germans are expected tomorrow, and they’ve also been tipped off that there are some hotel inspectors in town.

 

                                                                          

                                                                             

 

 

 

 

I leave my breakfast order as requested and head out to my favourite pub in Torquay, The Hole in the Wall. Last time I visited Torquay, I got stuck in The Hole in the Wall for an entire evening, after enjoying a fantastic steak meal, sticking around for live music, and then discovering a rather extensive range of malt whiskies.

 

The pub is exactly as I remember it, 4 ales and a great food menu. All stone floors, low beams and log burners. How this place isn’t in the Good Beer Guide is beyond me. Apparently, it’s been a pub since 1540, making it Torquay’s oldest. You can find it tucked away up Park Lane with the Devon Arms. Just look for a brown tourist sign marked “Inns” and follow it.

 

I start off with the Ferryman, brewed by Exeter, and it’s very good.

 

I’m already getting a sense of déjà vu. I wonder if I’ll escape, or end up on the whisky again?

 

This really is an excellent pub. Not just aesthetically pleasing with great food and great beer, but also well run and well staffed.

 

I elect to eat in the bar rather than the restaurant area, in order to watch The Hole in the Wall do its thing. Great to see the place so busy early on a Thursday evening.

 

I’ve ordered Scallops with Chorizo to start, followed by Lemon Sole.

 

The Jail Ale from Dartmoor isn’t quite as good as the Ferryman, but still very nice indeed.

 

As I tuck into my Lemon Sole, the Landlord is pulling through a new ale. 2 other staff members and 2 of the pub’s regulars get involved in sampling and quality assurance. The consensus is that the beer needs more conditioning, so it won’t be made available tonight. Never mind, I’ll just have to come back.

 

Nearby, is the bizarrely named Apple & Parrot. Surely the parrot would eat the apple, so the pub should really be called the Full Parrot.

 

There is no-one behind the bar as I enter, so I pop up the 4 stairs directly ahead where I can see pool being played, only to be told repeatedly that there was no service up there.

 

It finally dawns on whomever is “working” behind the bar that I’m not leaving until I’ve tried the beer, so I eventually get poured my ale.

 

I’m just a 2 minute walk from The Hole in the Wall, but I could be on a different planet. As I’m being served, a Police Car pulls up in front, prompting 2 customers to leave their drinks and high-tail it past the pool table and out of the pub via the fire escape, as the chap serving me comments that it doesn’t usually all kick off until Friday night.

 

The only ale available, Bays Devon Dumpling, is rather average.

 

Another 2 customers reclaim their table and drinks after popping outside for a smoke. That doesn’t smell like tobacco to me. Don’t think I’ll be coming back here, unlike The Hole in the Wall.

 

I shouldn’t mention it again, but the amount of dog dirt is ridiculous. I’m sure to fall foul of it before the trip is over.

 

The next venue is probably the most intriguing of the trip, Yates, which allegedly has 9 ales to choose from, which would make it very different to any other Yates I’ve ever visited, as Yates hardly have a reputation as being a bastion of real ale.

 

There are only 3 ales on, although in fairness there are also 6 real ciders. I try a pint of St. Austell Tribute, which isn’t bad. The food looks quite interesting, so I may revisit during my trip.

 

My final stop of the night is to be the Cinnabar on the harbour side, which should have 4 ales on. The lights are on, but the doors are locked and I can’t see any drinkers through the windows, just someone who seems to be cleaning the tables.

 

What I can see is that there is only one ale on, and it looks like Fuller’s London Pride. They must have closed early, although it’s only just gone 8, so I decide it’s a good opportunity for an early night for me too.

 

In the Dead of Night

 

At breakfast, it’s clear that I’m the only guest at Hotel Peppers. Well, I am now, as the only other guest died during the night, supposedly of kipper poisoning, but they don’t seem too sure.

 

No matter, the breakfast is excellent, superb in fact. Full English of course, including black pudding.

 

The owner is pretending he’s forgotten his wedding anniversary, and I’m instructed to play along, which I’m ok with, but I do decline to allow the waiter to hide his pet rat in my room. 

 

I’m soon on my way to Plainmoor to buy my ticket for the game. It’s so mild, I don’t even have to wear a hat.

 

Whatever your starting point in the town, you’re faced with a significant climb up to the ground, which is a walk of between 25 and 30 minutes.

 

The dog owners of Torquay were up early, diligently laying out fresh dog dirt for everyone, so I have to tread carefully.

 

          The higher I get, the colder it gets, until eventually, I can see my own breath. Then steady sleet sets in, making the walk even more enjoyable. Given the number of times games have been called off here, I can’t help but wonder whether tomorrow’s game is in jeopardy.

 

I eventually catch sight of the floodlights. 

 

 

 

I get to Plainmoor, buy my ticket, and take the opportunity to have a look around to remind myself where everything is.  

 

Pitch looks fine to me. Game on.

 

 

 

Getting to the game early, 28 hours early, means you spot things you wouldn’t otherwise, such as the Blue Plaque for Peter Cook, who used to be the Chairman of the Gull’s Junior Supporters’ Club.

 

 

 

Caught Short in Paignton

 

Time to walk along the coast to Paignton, which I reckon should take 90 minutes, and there are some pubs to try on the route after about an hour.

 

Once I’m beyond Torquay Harbour, I can see Paignton in the distance. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A coastal walk can nourish the soul almost as well as a win on penalties at Gresty Road. However, this turns out not to be a walk along the coast, as there is no coastal path, just the A Road. Like the jam / cream debate, this is another example of why Devon isn’t as nice as Cornwall. Devon is far more urban and populated, particularly on the coast.

 

I’m already in the Borough of Paignton before I get the opportunity to actually walk along the coast, via a pedestrian tunnel that goes under the railway. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And once I’m through, I get a nice view back towards Torquay. 

 

 

The problem now is, that I’ve only be walking 40 minutes, and I’m already in the first pub, the Old Manor Inn. As I enter, the heavens open. Could be a football-free weekend at this rate! 

 

 

 

I opt for St. Austell’s Tribute, which was quite good, as it’s too early in the day for Sea Fury, or “spesh” as it’s known in Cornwall.

 

By the time I’ve finished my pint, the sun is back out.

 

2 minutes away is the Ship Inn, where I happen upon Blitzen, brewed by Black Sheep, which is very nice. As I leave the Ship Inn I get a right drenching.

 

Why did I bring that dratted crossword with me? Flightless bird from Iceland (6,7). _ _ O _ _ _ 

_ H _ _ _ _ N

 

Paignton is remarkably similar to Torquay, altogether too sprawly. However, for some reason, there is significantly less dog dirt. Well, there could hardly be more!

 

There are 2 pubs in the Good Beer Guide in Paignton, double the number Torquay has, and to be honest, the one in Torquay isn’t really in Torquay, it’s in Babbacombe.

 

On the way to Paignton’s first Good Beer Guide offering, Henry’s Bar, which offers 4 ales, I have a mooch on the pier, but find nothing of interest to me, i.e. no pinball.

 

 

 

At Henry’s Bar, I find that 2 of the 4 ales on offer are Doombar and Doombar Extra Chilled. Not surprisingly, I opt for Dragon’s Breath from Dartmoor which was pretty good.

 

The other pub in the Good Beer Guide is the Torbay Inn. By the time I get there, the sun has gone down, and good riddance. Too low, and when combined with wet surfaces, is a right pain.

 

Carols are being practiced in the other room. 5 ales on offer as promised. I have the Black Sheep Blitzen. I’m taking a liking to this seasonal Black Sheep beer, very drinkable indeed.

 

I’m getting peckish by now and my plan is to eat at Harbour Light on the Quayside, which aside from food, should have 4 ales to try.

 

Despite having to send the first beer back (Bath’s Prophecy) I stay to eat, and have to say that the St. Austell Proper Job provided as a replacement is the best ale of the trip so far. Excellent.

 

I’ve ordered a couple of snacks, the Chorizo Bites and a Crabmeat Tart. Let the grazing commence.

 

As you will gather from the food, the pub is pretty posh and certainly food-led, but it does have an area set aside for drinkers, and as I said, this is the best beer of the trip.

 

My final target of the night is the Isaac Merritt. The description on the What? Pub website sounds like a Wetherspoons, but it isn’t. On the way, I stumble on Crazy Golf. If I’d have found this earlier, I would definitely have given it a go, but now it’s too dark, and in any event the rigours of the day so far would make it a total waste of time.

 

Once I played crazy golf at midnight, but that was in Finland during the summer solstice, so there was plenty of daylight.

 

I can’t find the Isaac Merritt and when I get caught short, end up having to leave a rather large Christmas present in another pub called the Oldenburg. A double-flusher. Oh well, no harm done.

 

Eventually I find the Isaac Merritt. It certainly feels like a Wetherspoons. The main reasons for trying to finish off here, is that it’s on the bus route back to Torquay and does food should I need it.

 

I’ve really fallen on my feet here - again. 8 ales to choose from, including the 1864 Stout from Teignmouth, weighing in at a hefty 6.2% ABV. I also try Dasher’s Tinkle from a brewery called Hunters, which is even better.

 

I indulge in some nachos to keep me going.

 

Apparently, the pub is named after Isaac Merritt Singer, the American inventor of sewing machine fame, who died in Paignton in 1875 at his palatial estate called the Oldway Mansion, which is now publicly owned. Singer fathered 24 children by various wives and mistresses, and his $13 million fortune was divided unequally amongst them.

 

Soon I’m on the bus back to Torquay. Pubs that go unvisited in Paignton include the real Wetherspoons (Talk of the Town) and the Spinning Wheel, so I’m able to convince myself that I’ve been very sensible.

 

Blue Army Located

 

When I get to Torquay, upon getting off the bus, the first thing I see is a huge steaming pile of…. What is going on? These dogs must be getting very well fed to keep this up.

 

It seems sensible to check out the Wetherspoons (Green Ginger), just to make sure I know where I can find the Blue Army in the morning.

 

However, this turns out to be anything but sensible, as I encounter a completely unsupervised Steve Bellis who is holding court in the centre of the pub, and surrounded by a good number of County Supporters. The Blue Army has landed. 

 

 

 

I should have gone to bed, but this is what happens when you follow County away. I’m on Bays Festivity which is a very good beer and on good form, making it even harder to leave.

 

The Green Ginger is a massive venue, meaning we can start singing, but then stop again before any bouncer can get near us. This soon wears a little thin though, and we do want to come back tomorrow.

 

I vaguely remember being given a “skittle bomb”, which I drank the wrong way apparently. Drank the wrong way? How many ways to drink are there? Ditto something called “a shot”. 

 

 

 

 

Steve has been given leave to stay in Torquay and spend the evening with us, rather than be holed up in Exeter with the team and other Club representatives.

 

We all take the opportunity to grill Steve on various County-related matters of course, but as I can’t remember what was said, this proves to be a rather fruitless exercise. Understandably given recent performances on the field and the general drunken haze, everyone is really upbeat, and we all agree that County are bound to win tomorrow.

 

Match Day

 

After another superb breakfast, it’s back to the Green Ginger, where the gathering of the Blue Army is already well underway. I encounter the likes of Caz and the Andys and try to piece together last night’s proceedings.

 

 

 

 

 

Once again, grand spanking new obstacles have been randomly placed on the pavements by the canine population, for our added entertainment.

 

I choose the weakest beer possible, as it will be another long day, Hunters Pheasant Plucker, not very good and rather chewy. In fairness, I’m not really fully with it yet, so it might just be me.

 

Once I’ve taken the photos I need, I set off for Plainmoor, as I expect to find plenty more of the Blue Army in the pubs up there. 

 

 

 

 

 

12:30 in the Union Inn. It’s not long before County Supporters start to arrive, but once I’ve done my duty and chatted to the Torquay Drummer and his mates, none of who give the Gulls any chance whatsoever, I finish my Courage Best and head off in search of more. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s still remarkably mild for this time of year, even for the English Riviera (bet all you can hear is Basil Fawlty now eh?). 

 

 

 

I find more of The Blue Army in the Dolphin, where I end up drinking Head brewed by Otter, which I thought was 3.8% ABV, but upon closer inspection of the pump-clip turns out to be 5.8%. Very nice though. 

 

 

 

My main target up here in the mountains of Torquay is Molloys, home of Platform 5 Brewery. The Black Crow Stout is excellent, and I’m thinking I may have to return after the game.

 

More pictures of County fans enjoying the day. I’ve realised that I forgot to ask anyone their names, but I suppose anonymity is no bad thing. Everyone I’ve met has high expectations. There is a palpable air of positivity amongst Supporters. 

 

 

 

No pies at the ground, but the cheeseburger wasn’t bad, and there was a spectacular sunset midway through the game. 

 

 

 

 

 

As usual, you can read hedgegrower’s excellent match report if you want to find out how County performed, but I never let the football ruin following County away (wise advice I received decades ago).

 

https://hedgegrower.blogspot.com/2021/12/torquay-united-2-stockport-county-1.html

 

 

 

Rubbing Shoulders with the Torquay Elite

 

To cheer myself up, I’m visiting the only Good Beer Guide pub in Torquay, the Buccaneer, on Babbacombe Downs on the coast. Only 3 ales, but it’s in the Guide, so visiting is mandatory. The St. Austell Proper Job is ok, but I’m surprised the Buccaneer is in the Good Beer Guide ahead of The Hole in the Wall, and perhaps even the Green Ginger.

 

I’m even more surprised to find that I’m the only County Fan in here. Perhaps the others all came in before the game?

 

However, there are plenty of Torquay fans to talk to, all of whom are sympathetic as to the result, some even apologetic, saying that they felt a draw would have been fair.

 

My final pub of the day will be the Cary Arms, down on Beach Road, virtually in the sea.

 

I know I’ve had a few, but the road down to the pub is so steep I’m struggling to keep my footing on the wet road. Must about a 1 in 2 gradient, no pavement, and pitch black.

 

I pass some people walking up, who have never heard of the Cary Arms. Oh no, not lost again - please! I decide to soldier on, and can spot some lights down near the sea. I find it!

 

My word this is posh. Makes the Harbour Light look like the Pineapple. I’m greeted by a gentleman dressed up to the nines, dickey bow, apron and a tea-towel over his arm, who gives me a good look up and down. The look I’m getting is “what are you doing here, I assume you’re lost”.

 

“Err, do you serve real ale?” I say.

 

“Yes Sir, would you like to try some?” He replies in a slow and deliberate manner.

 

In for a penny, in for a pound (lots of pounds as it turns out), I blurt out “Yes please, and would it be possible to eat here this evening?”

 

What am I doing? I should be having a swift half and clearing off.

 

After consulting the antique leather-bound book containing tonight’s bookings, my host informs me that if I eat straight away and vacate my table by 8, I’m welcome to stay and dine.

 

I’m shown to my table, in the bar, rather than the main restaurant, out of sight of the proper guests, who starting to arrive in steady stream, and are all very well turned out indeed.

 

I remove my coat revealing my County colours, which definitely raises an eyebrow or two, but my new waiter friend and I exchange a glance, conceding that we’re both stuck with the situation now, and may as well just get on with it.

 

My pint of Sammy’s Ale from Bays is brought over, which is better than I was expecting, but I think I better order some wine to try and fit in.

 

I can hear the resident pianist starting up in the main restaurant. Various pieces are played; each followed by appropriately polite applause from Torquay’s well-heeled.

 

I’m sat swigging a pint of beer in my tatty Wembley 2008 polo-shirt, dirty jeans and dirty shoes.

 

Whilst I’m sat there, I realise that the venue is also a hotel. When I got back home, I looked up the description on What?ub, which reads “The Cary Arms is essentially a hotel with a spa and restaurant that serves real ales and ciders, in a superb position on Babbacombe Bay, down a very steep road.”

 

The food is rather good, as is the wine, and the service is exceptionally quick for some reason.

 

The ale seems to be very popular, which is good to see.

 

Inevitably, I need to visit the toilet a couple of times during my visit, which is in the main restaurant. What’s the matter with everyone, never seen a County Supporter before? The piano is pure white. Should I put in a request for Arthur Brownlow? No, I haven’t had my pudding yet.

 

After a final parading of myself, I pay the bill and leave to set off up the hill. Imagine the cobbles up into Stockport Market Place near the Boars Head up towards Bakers Vaults. Well, it’s 3 times steeper than that, 30 times longer, and very, very twisty.

 

As the door closes behind me, I hear a shout. Oh no, has my credit card been declined?

 

My friendly host wants to know if I’d like the Hotel Receptionist to give me a lift back up the hill, an offer which I eagerly accept. I have a nice chat with the lady (who’s probably saved me a trip to A&E) as we drive back up to real life.

 

25 minutes into my half hour walk back into town I spot Kents, which has been mentioned in the local CAMRA Magazine, so I pop in. The Otter Amber is good.

 

Back to where it all began, The Hole in the Wall, where I find the Dartmoor IPA to be very good, and following a malt whisky nightcap (for old time’s sake), I head back to my hotel. I can’t risk showing my face in Wetherspoons!

 

There is chaos at the hotel as a Wedding Party has booked in, who are constantly in and out of each other’s rooms, much to the consternation of the manager.   

 

The Long Journey Home

 

I’m in reflective mood this morning, not least as the door into the breakfast room seems to have been bricked up. Some cowboy builders have messed up some alterations the manager wanted doing.

 

Anyway, I eventually find the new door, and order the Waldorf Salad.

 

 

 

 

Spending 3 nights in an area like Devon really makes me realise how lucky I am to live near somewhere like Stockport, where the real ale is varied, excellent and plentiful.

 

The whole trip has been sprinkler free, and as you’ll have read, the ale has been a little repetitive and predictable, i.e. restricted to particular breweries. There have been some highlights of course, and my beer scores will help inform the South Devon Branch of CAMRA as they choose their pubs for the next Good Beer Guide.

 

After checking out and a nice half hour stroll along the front (it’s high tide and I don’t fancy a paddle), I encounter Caz and Andy at the Station. They are returning to Stockport via Birmingham, but for me, it’s the joys of Newport, so we part our ways at Newton Abbot.

 

My split-ticket route is remarkably on a single ticket, with just 2 changes, at Newton Abbot and Newport, and judging by the number of County Supporters who get on the 11:27 to Cardiff Central, I’m not the only one.

 

As usual, I recognise a lot of the faces, and engage in conversation with some, but don’t know any of the names (or can’t remember). I’ve accidentally booked onto a train that gets into Stockport just as the door to Ye Olde Vic will be opening, in about five and a half hours time.

 

I can assure you that this was purely coincidental, in that the train was the latest I could get to tie in with the hotel check-out time. It just happens to take 6 hours to get back, that’s all.

 

Stupid crossword. Flightless bird from Iceland (6,7). _ _ O Z _ _  _ H _ _ _ E N

 

Surely that Z must be wrong, unless the answer is in Icelandic!

 

The Cardiff train we’re on is starting to run a little late, not that you’d know it from the lack of announcements. As a seasoned user of the rail network, I’ve learned to spot whether a train is on schedule each time it enters a station, by looking at the overhead electronic signs.

 

And there are plenty of stations between Newton Abbot and Newport: Teignmouth; Dawlish, Exeter; Taunton; Bridgewater; Highbridge & Burnham; Weston-super-Mare; Weston Milton; Worle; Yatton; Nailsea & Backwell; Parson Street; Bedminster; Bristol; Filton Abbey Wood; Patchway and Severn Tunnel Junction.

 

By the time we leave Bristol Temple Meads, we’re running 10 minutes late, so as we only have 13 minutes at Newport, this now leaves 3 minutes to get the Stockport train.

 

The Train Manager makes an announcement to the effect that they are “going to try to hold the train at Newport”. Judging by the number of people now trying to get ready for a swift exit off the train, every man and his dog is trying to get to Stockport. And why not, Stockport has much to offer.

 

To cut a long story short, as is my way, we all manage to get the connection ok, and I’m lucky to get a table seat considering there are only 2 coaches. Many have to stand.

 

Crossword Solved!

 

5 hours 58 minutes after getting on the train in Torquay, I arrive in Stockport. 5 minutes later I’m in Ye Olde Vic.

 

The disappointment of the result has largely worn off. The performance wasn’t that bad, as conceded by the Gull’s fans, it was just short of what we’d been treated to in recent weeks.

 

It’s great to be back. Ye Olde Vic has sprinklers, ales from 4 different breweries and everything! The Vic is also an inspirational venue, and I finally solve the crossword.

 

Flightless bird from Iceland (6,7). Answer - Frozen Chicken.

 

As there’s no food in at my place, it’s beef satay and fried rice from Ray’s Chippy, and another odyssey staying over following County away is over.

 

Barring any interesting games in the Trophy, during our last ever opportunity to win it (as we won’t be in this Division next year), next up will be King’s Lynn. I can already hear the chant “King’s Lynn, on a Tuesday night, King’s Lynn on a Tuesday night……”.

 

 

Man in a Hat (hatless again)