BRAPA is ..... Going Posh with Quosh Before I Get Sloshed (Part 1 of 2)

Lydgate.  You've never heard of it, don't pretend you have.  It is like Dukinfield.  But only because you've never heard of that either.  No ..... no .... don't lie please, or this is going to be a very long drawn out blog ('aren't they bloody always?'  I hear you say).

Lydgate is posher than Stalybridge.  Hang on.  Everywhere is posher than Stalybridge.  Okay, it is posher than Greenfield and Mossley (pronounced Mozzley, I learned tonight), and they seem quite 'nice'.

Lydgate had a GBG pub for the first time in BRAPA history.  Twitter legend and probable mayor of Stalybridge, Quosh (some people call him 'Alex', fuck knows why) kindly volunteered to take me here and also to my one remaining Mossley pub.

I jumped off the train at Greenfield into the bouncing rain, almost accosted by a gang of middle aged Twanspennine Crawlers probably off to Marsden to hopefully drown themselves in the river.  Why going on the Transpennine Ale Trail has to coincide with being an anti social nincompoop is one of life's precious little mysteries.

I saw Quosh's easily distinguishable Quoshmobile and hopped in.  "This is Chris" he says.  'What is Chris?' I wonder for a confused second.  Then I turn to see a kindly looking young chap on the back seat blinking up at me, like a Thinking Man's Beckham.  He had 'pub blogger potential' from the off, I thought.  Quietly contemplative, drinking in surroundings, nuances and moods.  I liked Chris already.

Quosh played us a bit of Morrissey ("before he became embarrassing") just to cheer me up, and waxed lyrical on Duncan Mackay for a few minutes solid, as any red blooded male would, as we passed all the grand houses of Lydgate and approached the sodden pub car park.  'Looks like a dining pub, probably is a dining pub', I ruminated in a roomie kind of way.

Top pose from Quosh

The White Hart, Lydgate ( 1722 / 2694) then, and before we'd even entered, I could see a gaggle of middle aged posh blonde ladies and barbour jacketed men who looked like they'd stepped out of a dog boutique in Lymm, blocking the route to the bar.  Quosh fought through to see the largest pump clips known to man, from a local brewery called Donkeystone in Greenfield, more on that later.  We span around to see another pub twitter legend, Chris Dyson, another one to tick off the 'Pub Twitter I-Spy Book' (40 points for a Chris Dyson).  He was from the right side of the hills (Halifax), so obviously had his head screwed on right and the rumours of him being a great bloke were spot on.  We peered into about three empty rooms, all set up for the kind of posh dining that even the Lymm boutique massive gave zero shits about, and thankfully found a 'drinkers' room with a table in the corner, though I had to wait for a twog to get yanked away by a lady owner.  We chatted on pubs, ale, BRAPA, you know the drill.  'The Newark Incident' and 'The Phantom Ticker of Sidcup' tales got an airing, 'twas all really pleasant, the ale superb even though we all admitted we had no idea how NBSS worked.  What was with the staff uniforms though?  I thought it was just the one guy, but when a young lass who reminded me of something from the original Twin Peaks appeared, I realised they had this skinny blue jeans and tight grey waistcoat uniform policy.  Truly unique.  A more perfectly formed dining pub than many.

Really nice Cotton Clouds, lacings or something.  3.5 on NBSS, or is it 3.75, 4 or 4.33?

Quosh getting his debut green highlighting done - GERRIN' LAD!

The success of the Donkeystone ale had got Quosh thinking, and when Quosh thinks, we all think.  "Would be a good idea to go to the Donkeystone Brewery Tap down in Greenfield.  After all, it could be a great pre-emptive tick for you."  'Sounds good to me' I chirped.  "Hellz to the yeah!" agreed Chris Dyson (not an exact quote) and he followed us in his car, passing previous Greenfield BRAPA ticks Railway, Wellington and the King Billy.

In another puddly car park amidst industrial units aplenty, a few artsy donkey murals greeted us ......

Here I was

Chris Dyson does what is needed

Donkeystone Brewery Tap, Greenfield then, and after a bit of initial skepticism from me, yes I kind of liked it.  Enough warm heaters blowing air through (often a problem in these places), not too echoey and sparse (my pic below is rubbish), a better version of Magic Rock near Huddersfield, and far superior to some of those 'edge of Birmingham' efforts.  It rhymes with 'Gurning Arsehole' if you wondered.  A lovely lady called Veronika greeted us, of course she knew Quosh, and as I got the drinks in, a huge rumble of thunder sounded from above.  'Is this a good or bad time to be in a huge metallic shed?' I wonder, and then added (out loud) "this wouldn't be such a bad time to die I suppose would it?" which met with mixed reaction from our hostess and the three boys.  I do my best thinking out loud.  My stout had Java coffee & vanilla in, Veronika recommended it and you'd always do what she said, though I could only taste vanilla til half way down, then the Java coffee hit me and BOOM, like the thunder, a gorgeous rumbler of a beer (wow, listen to me talking about beer like a proper blogger!)  Talking of beer, Quosh brought up the subject of Autovac and soon all us Yorkshire folk were sweating.  Through the brewery window, two blokes swept the wet floor.  Amazing insight into how breweries work.  Perhaps this ends up in my next pint, the Donkeystone answer to Autovac?  Seemed too much of a coincidence.  Joking of course.  Which makes it alright.  Chris Dyson said he had to dash off for some important event, so we said how much we loved each other and bade farewell.  Definitely worth a visit this place.

On the way out .... cosier place than this pic suggests!

But it wasn't quite farewell.  As we were about to enter the Quosh-mobile, Quosh says "hang on, is that Chris Dyson's car?  Is he still here?"  'Uh oh, he's been murdered with a donkeystone and now we'll have to go to the police station and I'll never get my Mossley tick done!' was my first logical thought, but no, Chris had gone into the brewery to chat to the lads, get a few pics, and probably a few free samples.  #Pubman.  The three of us said bye and sped off to Mossley.