Quiet Woman falls silent

 Evening all,

               it's with sadness, and sadly less surprise, that I have to mention the death of Ken Mellor, long time landlord of the requisite jewel of the Quiet Woman at Earl Sterndale near Buxton and Longnor. I spoke to John Clarke on Saturday and he told me that the landlady had died, but a check online suggests it was Ken himself - although, sadly, my lack of trips into the peak district recently suggests that both may have passed away. According to the UKCaving website, Ken died a couple of days or so before 28th August 2020.

Regular readers may know that since about 2018 or so, things had sadly gone a little downhill at the Quiet Woman. I first went with Wee Fatha back in 1993 or similar - another ironic thing since Ken died shortly before my Dad. Wee Fatha always loved the pub, along with Ken - am hoping they are having a chin wag about times past, beers no more and dogs, as you read this.

On one visit with the lovely Tash Ken told us that he used to babysit Cliffe at the Royal Cottage when his mum and dad ran it - to be fair they both at least seemed a similar age, but am certain Ken would have been in his late 70s or 80s when he passed away. Checks on the internet as always have been frugal - one says that the place is looking for a new owner or tenant - this of course would depend very much upon whether or not it was still licensed, and of course, sadly, the circumstances of both Ken and his wife. Sadly I can't see it opening up as a pub again. We will see.

I have a mixture of memories of the pub - and I realise I may have already shared  some previously. I know that on my first visit in the early 1990s I had a now discontinued Marstons strong brew called something to do with monks - or royalty? Merry Monk is what I remember - and I recall it was on Cask from the Past as well. Not seen it even in bottles for years but it was a must have beer as I started drinking in 1992. There was also a mild beer on almost always, as well as Marsons Bitter - this was the last beer I ever had under Ken's Stewardship. He also sold Shaw's Brewery beers for a short while, along with Wincle. also for a short while.

People had also a mixed reaction to the pub - I recall visiting with my good friend Davefromtshop many years ago - when they changed requirements for licensees. As the only licensee of his bottle shop (selling draught cask from the past) Dave had to be contactable at all times - when we were in there once his phone went off twice. He apologised and Ken told him to go outside - when he got back in, Ken's wife said "wiv got a bin fo them things". Dave as the nicest man on earth was simultaneously saddened by his failure as well as quite shocked.

On the positive - not forgetting of course his entry on to the National Inventory of Unspoilt Pub Interioirs - was the sale of locally laid fresh eggs and locally made pork pies. Even when he sadly had to stop selling the ones made in Hollinsclough he still stayed loyal to his local suppliers!

Both WF and WK often picked up bottles of the Quiet Woman bottled beers made by Leek Brewery or similar, but sadly over time a few too may grim batches appeared and both parties lost interest.

Overall though, I would like to say that I will really miss both Ken and the pub, and to  pass on my regards and message of regret to the Mellor family for their recent loss.

R.i.P Ken Mellor

Wee Beefy 

More Moorlands supping

Hello folks,

     as this is a beer blog am not going to allocate too much space to my Dad and his situation. Partly to protect his privacy, but also because, ostensibly, he is neither a beer, nor a pub. I may be 50% beer by now, but Wee Fatha drinks less than me. And his favourite tipple these days is Whisky anyway...

Wee Fatha's mobility is becoming restricted ever more and he goes out less. One thing he does therefore like is just that. Going out. If it hadn't been writ large on his face all night it was certainly clear in his smile in the photos we took whilst on our jolly. That and a bottle of whisky from his  untried list was the perfect birthday present.

Wee Keefy picked me up and we drove over to Wee Fatha's around 17.30 to head out to Bakewell, Monyash, Crowdecote, Longnor and finally on to Reapsmoor. WK had worried we may have arrived too early to pick up WF but we didn't leave until 18.10, and were booked in at the Butchers at 19.00. After a well driven trek across moorlands and through dales we arrived about 10 minutes late. Pulling up outside Ye Olde Butchers Arms Carl came out to welcome us, although he forgot that we were coming for WF's birthday, and closed the door behind me - luckily WF's glacial pace meant he hadn't yet reached the door....

Inside all three fires were lit and we got the big table facing the bar. Later diners sat in the room on the right, and as per previous visits, the room soon filled with smoke from the big old burner attached to the chimney - I meanwhile sat as far as I could from the raging fire next to me in case I set alight.

On the bar was one turned round pumpclip and two empty handpulls. The turned round one said Black Sheep bitter on it, but regular visitors will know that pump clips are a meaningless diversion at the Butchers. Much of the time Carl doesn't know what is on. If he does, or even if he doesn't, he doesn't share it with you. The beer was brown and bitter. It was well kept. It was £2.70 a pint, although the barman didn't know that. I had three pints.

We ordered food with Carl sat next to us - he asked WF what he wanted and was instructed that he just wanted a steak with a handful of chips and no veg or salad. I saw Carl write this down. He also said it was fine. When the meals came all three were piled high with chips, veg and salad. Carl said "thats ow we do um here mate, thats ow we alluss have". WF was not impressed but me and WK dipped into his chips and veg and Carl offered him the chance to take some home. Our meals were staggeringly large. As alluss.....

After fussing and feeding Thea and Sadie the two Alsations, WF slid off icily for a trip to the loo and me and WK got chatting to a couple nearby, and had more beer - well, I did, WK was on softs as he was driving. We didn't leave until nearly 21.30 and headed straight for the Royal Cottage. Alas the light outside wasn't on and the upstairs was so Cliff had clearly closed early. This just means that we will have to go back again...

Our final stop (I had hoped to visit the Packhorse at Crowdecote since its for sale, but that will also have to be next time) was at the Quiet Woman in Earl Sterndale. Being the first weekend of the month we figured it would be open, and it was. We found out that Ken is only two years younger than my Dad, and also some info which perhaps explained the food issue we had encountered at the Butchers earlier. There were three beers on and I had a pint of Wainwright, WK a half of Marstons Bitter and WF a half of Burton Bridge XL Mild.

I have observed before that Ken seems to be closing the pub slowly and laboriously, almost by default. He told us that Earl Sterndale had about 200 residents and they had 60 dogs. This makes his ban on dogs in the pub even less understandable. He also mentioned the lack of born and bred Earl Sterndalians in the village and suggested that many locals no longer came in. Disappointing as this obviously is, the beer already told the same story.

WF is no judge of off beer so I forgave him thinking the Mild was OK, the Bitter which is what I think Ken drinks, was fine, and the Wainwright was awful. I mean, I drank it, blending the sharp edges with the odd sweetness as if they were citrus and elderflower, but it was definitely not a good drink. I had to finish on a half of the Bitter. Did I mention it? No. I don't think there is any point. Not because Ken would contest the complaint, or refuse to replace the pint, but because I think its part of the subtle but noticable wresting free of the pub that seems to be happening, more obviously, every time we go. Am not 100% convinced I shouldn't have said something though.

Ken kindly came out with us as WF slowly and painstakingly shuffled off, his immobility and refusal to change somehow mirroring the steadfastedness of the excellent old pub. People in the village need to go in more often if the beer is to be maintained, and persons from outside of the area also need to visit more regularly. This is not going to put us off from going, not at all, it just makes us worry about the day in the not too distant future when we turn up and find the Quiet Woman quietly closed.

Next time I suggest we eat at the Packhorse, drink at Cliff's and finish in he Grapes at Longnor - maybe opening another chapter in our Moorlands supping story.

Your very good health

Wee Beefy.

Staffordshire Moorlands hat trick.

Hello,

       for many yeas myself and Wees Keefy and Fatha, sometimes with Tash and Matty, have been heading out to the Derbyshire, North Staffordshire border for a meal and a few pints at three excellent local pubs. In the last three years though making both of the last two has proved impossible, as per this post from 2015. Different pubs have been our starting place but after leaving Cliff's we have recently ended up somewhere else on the way home. Last Saturday that changed.

We met before 17.00 and picked Wee Fatha up and headed out via Bakewell to Monyash and then through Needham Grange to Crowdecote. The sun was shining and it was warm and the Packhorse pub wasn't too busy when we got there. Having said hello to Nick who may actually be called Mick (I will listen more carefully next time....) we set about ordering.

We all went for pints (WF a half) of Storm Silk of Amnesia, a darkish ruby pint with plenty of flavour and somewhere around 5%. The beer was impeccably kept and we stayed on this for the duration, apart from WK getting a soft drink since he was driving, and me trying the Derby fruit salad fruit pale which was far better than its name suggested. All pints cost £3.40 which is good value for the area. We also ate - WF having a fish pie, me gammon and WK a steak. The food was excellent. The beer was too.

Next, given recent early closing incidences, we headed up the lane past the pub to Earl Sterndale. The Quiet Woman was open, and there was a couple in the bar enjoying the last of their pints when we arrived. I had a pint of dark, alas I can't recall whose it was, and WK and WF each had a half of the Marstons bitter from a range of three. WK dutifully bought a now more expensive box of beers and we sat near the entrance.

One interesting  fact is that the pub door has a sign on it saying No dogs. Royal Cottage regulars claimed this had been there for years but three large groups of potential customers turned up whilst we were there and read the sign out loud - all of whom had dogs. One group put their dog in the car and sat inside enjoying their beers and the pub, and the other two groups sat briefly outside with far less beers than they would otherwise have had if they had been able to come in. I know that Ken had two or perhaps three dogs since I have been going, all of which have now sadly passed away but not taking the sign down is restricting trade further in this already quiet pub.

After a good sup and loo breaks we had to leave Ken to it and headed off to the Royal Cottage for about 21.00. There were a few customers in already when we arrived, and we had a quick chat with Cliff - unusually he don't say he thought we'd died, two which WF would have responded with "I nearly did". Instead he asked us how we were and WK bought our drinks - Manns for WF, lemonade for WK and a bottle of Old Speckled Hen for me.

We sat in our usual spot and got talking to a guy who may be called Dave and regular visitor Ivel - a proper old fashioned name if ever I heard one. As well as the interior not changing its pleasing to note that the conversation topics also never change. Local farms, farmers, families, relationships  and land sales once again were the feature, including the Salt family who allegedly lived in the mines years ago. As always, the conversation was interesting, and the atmosphere was excellent. And it was good to see Cliff in good health.

Shortly before we left a large group of people turned up and having ordered drinks stood and sat over by the back window. It was notable that for the second or third time in recent years there were more than ten people in when we left late on a Saturday night. This may not sound many, but the pub is quite small and for many years there were never more than three people in, so this is an improvement.

For information, in nearby Longnor, the Grapes has reopened following many years of closure, so there are now two pubs open in Longnor - unless the Horseshoes has reopened, which looking at it am guessing it hasn't. We didn't have time to visit but I understand it sells a few real ales so will hopefully pop in next time we are out that way.

I wrote in 2012 about the large number of local pubs in the area closing or changing hands but the Red Lion at Thorncliffe has also recently reopened so there seems to be small improvements in the pub scene in the Staffordshire Moorlands area. All of which means more trips out and different routes await in the months ahead.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy

Saturday night in North Staffordshire

Now then,

       at the end of January Wee Fatha and Wee Keefy and Tash and me were set to go to the folk night at the Royal Cottage. Alas, a surfeit of snow and potentially treacherous moorland conditions between Buxton and Leek meant we were denied the opportunity. Instead, a few weeks ago we decided to visit on a Saturday night.

We left Crookes with snow on the ground - not much, just a smattering, but enough to warn of potential issues further ahead. As it was, the only issues were not directly weather related, as we later found out. The snow was thick but piled high alongside the road from Longnor to Royal Cottage. There was that eerie blue white haze that lightens the countryside when it should be dark, that you only find when all is awhite.

We arrived at Cliff;s at 20.15 and found the light was not on. The upstairs light was though, and as we and another customer pulled our cars off the front we noticed Cliff stood at the window. We decided he would probably open later and so headed to a new pub for us, just down the road.

The Olde Rock Inn at Upper Hulme is an old but I suspect much extended pub just off the A53. We parked in the car park avoiding snow and pools of icy water, and walked tentatively down the road and over a small roadside stream into the brightly lit pub. There were two real ales on the bar, Bombardier, and Peregrine pale from Peakstones Rock Brewery. All of us had a pint, except WF who stuck to a half.

We sat at a large table in the bar room and watched a steady stream of punters turn up and sit down before moving to the tables for eating to do just that. The food looked like it was served in massive portions, and smelled lovely. We didn't want to stay though as the Royal Cottage awaited.

Except it didn't. Cliff was still upstairs and the lights weren't on downstairs. And despite the obvious arrival of two other cars, the situation did not change. So we headed off to Earl Sterndale.

The Quiet Woman pub was softly lit and Ken had cleared the snow outside the front porch. All we had to do was safely deliver WF with his walking stick to the porch. This was quite a lengthy process but we were soon inside. As we arrived a customer said to Ken "right you've got customers, I'd better get off". Its not clear what impediment we posed, or what indeed he and Ken were discussing, but as soon as the two pool players in the back room left about 21.30 there was only us in the pub.

WF, Keefy and Tash all had pints of Jennings Dark Mild (WF a half of course) and I supped rather quickly a pint of Brakspear Oxford Gold. So nice was this beer that I was up for another long before anyone else, as well as buying a Wrights pork pie. Ken often says that he is only busy the first weekend of a month but I was surprised how quiet the pub was for a Saturday. Admittedly people ay have thronged in earlier but it was closed as soon as we left around 23.00. Having written about two favourite pubs closing this month, I hope I won't have to write another post about the Quiet Woman. Get out there and use it is what I say.

We had at least one more round of drinks, Ken lit the fire and we chatted amongst ourselves, and in total I dispatched 4 pints of the Oxford Gold which was on good form. As ever, the Quiet Woman reminded me of the value of unspoilt traditional pubs in that area, many of which have been lost. Am sure the Royal Cottage will be open when the weather improves, and we can do the whole trip again soon, and get to both pubs.

Heres to another Saturday night in North Staffordshire.

Wee Beefy

North Staffordshire nights

Hello

     It was the end of the working week. Some cataclysmic occurrence had rendered the city centre an immovable mass of abandoned vehicles, cordons, roadblocks, and amassed irritable people, short of fuse and bereft of answers . The birds took flight. The stray dogs stopped barking. The air went cold. And nobody bought an ice cream.

It was time to head to the moors.....

Under purple, red, and yellow hued skies we headed for Ladybower, passed through Bradwell, Tideswell and Millers Dale, passed the turn for Chelmorton on the snaking road to Brierlow Bar and then headed through Earl Sterndale, Crowdecote and Longnor before arriving, as the sun set over Flash, at a small unassuming building with a darkened wooden board above the door, and an A board across the road with nothing written on it.

Inside, the Butchers at Reapsmoor was already busy, and Carl was stood behind the bar aiming to tempt us with whatever was on his hand pumps on this crisp colour splashed moorland night. Unusually, he quickly caved in and admitted that the beer on the left was Jennings Cumberland. We were disappointed - where was the guesswork and hopeless clues? There was also a mild. No stranger a thought had entered my mind - Carl doesn't serve mild does he? Well, since he doesn't usually remember what he is selling himself, who knows? Luckily normality was restored, since he couldn't recall the name of the beer. Or its strength.

His daughter said "its 4.5%" as he told a customer it was 4.0%. Wee Fatha piped up "it says 4.6% on the pumpclip". Carl said "do you read everything it says on the front of a bus?". I couldn't see how this helped clarify anything, but he seemed pleased that this removed the need for any further questions, as we filed through to the room on the right with our beers - a pint of Mild and half for Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha - and a pint each of Cumberland for myself and Miss N.

Soon a canine party popper was let off and a herd of Alsatians rushed in, bristling between the chairs and tables, sussing out which one of us seemed most taken in by their enormous "feed me" eyes, and were therefore the best to be leaned on or stared at as we ate. Meanwhile, bellies rumbling as we waited, we all migrated onto the Cumberland since, alas, the mild was very much on its last legs. This saw us through our mammoth plates of Barnsley lamb chops and mixed grill.

Soon we were off over the moors to another isolated gem. A missed turn on the moors road towards Morridge brought us out onto the A53 before the incongruous Winking Man nightclub, but 300 yards up the road a defiantly modest single light and a jumble of cars showed us the Royal Cottage was busy - it was the last Friday of the month and was therefore folk night. We couldn't even get parked in the pub car park it was that busy. Those seeking assurances that the pub is still open - read on and rejoice.

Inside, the left had room was open and a large number of instruments and music stands clustered at the end of the bar to be retrieved when needed by the musical throng. Cliff looked rushed off his feet, draught beer was on, the fire was lit, and it was warm and joyful. Three bottles of Old Speckled Hen and a Manns Brown Ale for the driver were secured, and we sat down near the fire with a couple of dogs propping themselves against our legs or lying on our feet. The music from the other room drifted seamlessly from folk to a classic blues song, then some Appalachian sounding choral number, then a didgeridoo, and back to old English songs of lost love. And we talked, fussed dogs, and watched and listened. It was just what we needed.

It seems perhaps trite to describe somewhere as being timeless but there were two senses of that at play there last night - yes, it seems never to have changed in terms of decor since the 1960's or 1970's, and the furniture appears to predate that, but its also somewhere that you can lose track of time. Before we knew it, with Miss N and WK on Newky Brown, we had, and were discussing racing over to Earl Sterndale for a last one. Wee Keefy's powers of persuasion worked and we were out in the chill of the nigh walking back to the car, none of us seemingly having realised it was gone 23.00.

Back through the lanes there was only the landlord and one of the regulars in at the Quiet Woman - obviously we now know that was indicative of the late hour we arrived rather than it being particularly slow on trade. WK had a pint of Jennings Dark  Mild, myself and Miss N a very nice pint of Wincle Waller, and WF a half of the same. Drinks in hand, we repaired to the dominoes table to talk Royal Cottage, moorland pubs and ailments with the two gentlemen until long after we should all have been home in our beds.

So ended a fantastic, needful escape from the haste and stress of the city. With three excellent pubs, and three indomitable landlords at the helm in to the bargain.

Cheers

Wee Beefy
 

Three counties pub crawl revisited

Evening,

         back in August me and Barraharri set off on a rather long drive around Derbyshire, Staffordshire and Cheshire, taking us through fantastic scenery to pubs in villages, Market towns and in rural seclusion. A chance meeting with a friend on Friday led to a plan to go out and visit some pubs he'd never been to - and what better way than to reprise the route from last year.

It was particularly pertinent since Barraharri was having his leaving do the same day - but not until midnight. So that meant I could spend the day retracing the long steps of the journey we took on a cloudy day in Summer, now on a sunny day in Winter.

We drove through Chesterfield, down to Two Dales and up through Wensley and Winster over Bonsall moor to Uppertown and down into Bonsall for our first stop, the Barley Mow. Being Saturday it was open, so we parked up and popped in, Mr Grant opting for a soft drink, and myself a pint of Dark Star Darkness.

We settled down in front of an open door (hardy souls them Bonsalians) and listened in on a cameo stand up performance from the barman. The pint didn't last long - the first of the day/visit never does, but I think there was surprise at us leaving after only 15 minutes. If we hadn't got a long way to go I reckon I'd have loved to stay and sample the Whim Arbor Light or the Blue Monkey Infinity , but we did. So we didn't.

A quick trip up the Via Gellia then down to Milldale and Hopedale, and the first directions mishap - I didn't see the road off to Stanhope where I wanted to be going and so we ended up in Wetton.

Knowing I wanted to get to Ilam, and vaguely where it was, I directed us left from Wetton only to find us driving up a path. A quick SatNav (it was me who got us there!) enquiry suggested we head down Walditch, another unsurfaced rocky track, so we headed back into Wetton and following new directions finally spotted the turn for Stanhope. A scenic trundle to Ilam, then over Throwley Hill followed, bringing us out in Waterhouses, from where we went to the Yew Tree at Cauldon. We'd rung to check they were open, and the place was really busy.

A decent pint of Burton bridge Bitter for me and a half of Rudgate Ruby Mild for Mr Grant followed., whilst we soaked up the atmosphere and surveyed the bric-a-brac, paraphernalia, accouterments and assembled collect-ables in this fantastic old pub. Decent priced beer as well - our pint and a half came to £3.38, so assuming both bers were the same price that's very inexpensive for the area.

Off next to Waterfall, a short drive away, and we found the Red Lion busy, but only on one side, leaving us the lounge on the left to, erm, lounge in. That took a bit longer than planned since no-one was behind the bar. A good few minutes passed before someone reappeared, which is annoying, but the pint and a half of Bass (more than a pound dearer than our last round) perked us up, as did the real fire.

We headed into Leek next and the SatNav helped us out well, locating and showing a route to both intended pub stops. Having got parked we went straight to the Wilkes Head, which was also busy, and I had a pint of the Whim Flower Power and Mr G a half of the Hartington Best. The Flower Power was exceptional, as it was the last time I tried it, and the Bitter was good as well. Unfortunately the Ruby Bitter I had a half of next was off, so I swapped this for a half of the Hartington IPA. Their beers may have changed a little over the years but I think the Flower Power amply demonstrates they still brew great beer.

Next up I finally got to visit Den Engel. Literally two minutes away, its some surprise that I have managed to miss this pub on my previous ten visits. Four real ales and 10 or so taps plus a decent bottle range makes this s great place to relax in a bar which, as far as is possible, does really seem to be reminiscent of a continental, if not Belgian bar. Here I had a bottle of the De Ranke Saison De Dottignies and Mr G a soft drink. The saison was very palatable, and more like the Fantome, which I suspect is a good thing, and was also easy to drink despite the carbonation and chilly serving temperature. A great place to drink.

Off into Cheshire next and we popped in the Vale Inn Bollington to eat and of course drink. We both had Bollington Brewery Oat Mill stout, a half for the driver of course, and that was on decent form, and I also tried half a Bollington Goldenhall, which was a tasty slightly sweet amber ale. The food was a sensible price and the place was heaving, although much annoyance ensued following finding lots of reserved tables. Nothing says piss off better than a table you can't sit at .

Following on with that theme, the White Swan at Kettleshume is fast becoming a restaurant. Very few diners but every table set out for eating, and the snug, which must hold all of eight people, the only place you could simply sit and drink. That said, no-one objected to us sitting at a table set for dining, so that's a plus, but its not really conducive to a relaxing pint. I had a half of the 4.0% Copper Dragon Silver Myst, which was very nice.

Off through the dark lanes now to Lamaload, then past the Cat and Fiddle to Dale Head and into Earl Sterndale. The Quiet Woman was almost the quiet pub, as the couple leaving as we got there turned out to have been the only customers. No sign of Ken (perhaps enjoying his evening nap, although someone in the back was reading the paper) and nothing to distract us sat in the relaxing calm of the bar. I was on a pint of Jennings Dark Mild in the absence of a guest beer, Mr G on a soft drink once again, and despite the unusual emptiness of the pub it was still a nice stop off on our hectic route.

Our penultimate stop was at the Royal Cottage. Arriving as the first customers of the night we had a good chat with Cliff and I supped a bottle of Old Speckled Hen. It was unusual to hear Cliff bemoan his lot in terms of the pub not making money but its obvious after our chat that the folk night is pivotal. It was cancelled on the 26th due to snow and with its high isolated position the pub couldn't open Saturday either. I've never visited the pub late on before but I got the impression that its usually closed by 22.30, so trading is very restricted. Luckily, on this occasion, other customers were coming in when we left near ten.

A final run into Bakewell put the tiny back lanes behind us, but not before we headed out to Wardlow Mires to visit the Three Stags Heads. A decent range of Abbeydale beers were available as always, and I got a pint of Absolution an Mr G a soft drink (poor lad!).

A great deal of dogs were present, and a varied conversation about anything and everything played out in front of the warming fire as we sat against the left hand wall surveying the scene. Its good to see that nothing has changed here, so Mr Grant got to see the pub as it usually is, chaotic, eclectic, traditional and unique. And the beers was pretty good as well.

So concluded a fantastic yomp round the countryside, with all the pubs being open when they should have, and the trip serving as a rather unsuitable precursor to my attending Barraharri's leaving do. At least he got to visit the Royal Cottage back in August. Just a shame he missed the Yew Tree. Seems you sometimes need two goes at getting a pub crawl right, and this three counties drive manages that perfectly.

Thanks to Mr Grant for tirelessly ferrying me around - thanks to Barraharri for showing it was possible.

Wee Beefy

The Wee men celebrate Christmas

Hello,

    before me and Wee Fatha buggered off round half of Cheshire on Saturday (its worth pointing out at this late stage that I had to dissuade him from heading to Chester for the last few pubs!) we joined Wee Keefy for the annual spectacle of our Christmas meal, always, unfailingly, held in a pub, and featuring plenty of beer. Just like a Christmas meal should.

Previous years have found us at the Crispin in Ashover, the Butchers at Marsh Lane and the Old Poets Corner, also in Ashover. This year it was the turn of the Packhorse Inn at Crowdecote, on the Staffordshire/Derbyshire border.

Nestling in beautiful Dovedale on a bend in the road its an idyllic place to pop in for a pint or a bite to eat, which makes it all the more surprising that its taken so damned long for the place to gain plaudits, and to put decent real ales on the bar. Luckily our new found hobby of visiting the Royal Cottage means we are regularly in the area seeking refreshment, so we decided to make this the venue for the admittedly very early Christmas meal for the menfolk of the clan.

Being a beer blog of course irrelevances such as food aren't really high up on the reprting agenda. Which is ironic because, as it turned out, despite my excited anticipation and Fatha and Keefy enjoying theirs my meal was really disappointing. That said, its cost was taken off the bill without fuss, and apologies forthcoming without question. Its a shame I didn't enjoy my food so much, but I appreciated the pubs approach to sorting the matter out, and better still the beer. Of which we had plenty.

Wee Keefy likes a malty slightly sweet pint as we know, and was smitten with the Cottage, erm, something with an "e" in it. The letter E that is. Meanwhile driver Wee Fatha was on a half or two of the pleasant Titanic Night to Remember. And drinking for two (for WF, am not pregnant) I dispensed with many pints of the fearsomely excellent Bottlebrook Mellow Yellow. Which, I only noticed on getting home, was 5.7%....

Bottlebrook is a brewery I don't come across too often and I have only previously encountered their offerings at beer festivals - which is maybe why I don't usually rate them. This offering overturned that opinion in some style. Meanwhile, Tetley made up the range along with a real cider so there was something for everyone, unless you wanted a stout or porter I suppose. In short the quality of this line up more than matched that which we found on our last visit, and will hope to find on our next.

A real bonus is that the pub is very handily situated nearly opposite a lane that runs into Earl Sterndale, so it seemed churlish not to pop up the hill for a pint or two at the Quiet Woman. Parking on a lake of ice outside we somehow contrived to avoid falling on our arses en route inside, where we got chatting to Ken and the regulars. Sat by the fire, we enjoyed supping Jennings Dark Mild (for WF and WK), and a pint and a half of the very enjoyable and quaffable Wincle Brewery Rambler for me.

I also got to take home an excellent Quiet Woman pork pie for Saturday's exploring, which I am pleased to report came in very handy, as did mixed packs of the Quiet Woman themed bottles that the other two purchased. One surprising note though was that the Quiet Woman is now selling guests from Pins. I can't be certain, but I reckon they must have had a decent throughput in the past (Mansfield Mild (?), Marstons Bitter, Pedigree and Old Rodger being sold on my first visit in 1994) and despite it being dreadful weather, it seemed quiet enough to make buying in pins sound like a necessity.

I don't think for a moment that this classic old pub is teetering on the brink, but it was sobering to consider how much trade seems to have declined. All the more reason to venture out more often then...

So, thus passed an enjoyable annual event featuring great company and fantastic beers on the edge of the Staffordshire Moorlands. Which I'm happy to report is becoming a bit of a habit these days.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy.   

Friday night in North Staffordshire

Afternoon,

     after me and Barraharri's failed camping expedition saw us miss the Quiet Woman, and after Cliff at the Royal Cottage mentioned that he'd not seen my Dad for a while, a chance conversation with Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha resulted in a plan to head out into the dark brooding landscape of the moorland border between Derbyshire and North Staffordshire.

I have started a lengthy break from work as of 17.00 yesterday so was in the mood for some good beer and pubs and the chance to visit two of my favourites was the perfect finish to a great day. We picked up Wee keefy before 19.00 and headed out via Ladybower, Bamford, Bradwell, Millers Dale, Brierlow Bar and Longor to the Royal Cottage on the A53.

We arrived early, its surprisingly easy to make the journey from Crookes in an evening, so we parked up outside in the rain and waited for the outside light to come on at 20.00. Every time me and Wee Fatha visit the Royal Cottage it rains, is foggy, or there are high winds. Or all three. Somehow, the meteorological maelstrom is the perfect accompaniment to a visit to the Cottage, and true to form, since Summer is now officially gone, the fire was lit as we walked in through the passage to be met and licked to death by Jessie the friendly Rottweiler.

Just like last time there was one customer already in, presumably a friend, and he sat with us and Cliff the landlord to talk about just about anything really, whilst I supped a bottle of Old Speckled Hen, WK a bottle of Newky Brown and Wee Fatha a Manns Brown Ale. There is something calming (despite the rather busy garish wallpaper and carpets!) and relaxing about sitting in the Royal Cottage listening to the stoic, measured conversation, especially between Cliff and his regulars. Apart from that those words, the only sound is the odd vehicle whizzing past on the main road outside.

As mentioned before, the pub only really seems to be busy at the folk nights on the last Friday of each month, on all other occasions, I've never seen more than 4 customers including us. Sat near the fire with Jessie slumped like a dead weight on my leg listening to Cliff suggest my Dad's recollections of the local railway were from the Thirties (now that's harsh!) and calmly arguing with the bucolic chap next to me about the number of dogs at the Butchers Arms 30 years ago is, despite my description, the epitome of traditional pub atmosphere.

Wee Keefy in the bar room

We stopped for  a few beers in here, Wee Fatha had to go to tomato juice after a bit, and I made a rather unwise decision to try the draught. I noticed Cliff was on the Tetley smoothflow, and whilst that's not a beer I like particularly I thought I'd give it a go.

The more militant amongst you will view what I did next as a travesty, as might those with a nod to medical knowledge, but I drank the beer, even though it was unlike almost any other beer I have ever tasted. And that's not a compliment. It was, through the first two layers of odd earthy sourness, reminiscent of the nitro cream edge of all smoothflow beers, and there was a hint of Tetley malt in the background, with bitterness indiscernible from the sharper flavours. It reminded me of the odd "beer" they sold at the Seven Starts at Halfway House in Shropshire - identifiable only as beer by echoes of malt and hops. Maybe I'm soft not to refuse to drink it. So be it. At least when he offered to top it right to the line I declined....

All too soon another customer had arrived and unfortunately it was time to move on, to leave the darkness of the bar and the harsh single light above the tables and the amazing flock upholstered and covered furniture behind. Having only been visiting for about 6 years I can hardly be accused of having a blinkered memory lane view of this unique pub, so perhaps I have a blinkered view of it now. I can't find fault, well, other than the draught, and that's not really something I say very often. Opening times, as confirmed last night, really are only 20.00 to later on, Friday and Saturday. I continue to believe that the effort of factoring in a trip is well worth it.

We drove back through Longnor next where its clear that the Crewe and Harpur has closed (a light or two on but curtains drawn and the big door shut, no outside lights) and then down through Crowdecote and left up the little lane into Earl Sterndale where Wee Fatha's settling dog parking habits ensured a tantalising wait for entrance to the pub.

Inside it was quite busy and there were 3 beers on, with the excellent pork pies and meat pies on the bar (along with fresh eggs on the piano top) offering a choice of Jennings dark Mild, Marstons Bitter and Wincle Sir Philip. I had intended to keep up my tradition of having a pint of mix but I love Wincle brewery beers so couldn't resist the complex fruity allure of the Sir Phillip.

We got sat down in front of the bar and got chatting to a bloke who used to live in Sale - not that remarkable, until you consider that is where Wee Fatha grew up, and it turns out they lived round the corner from one another. The last time such a co-incidence occurred was in the Royal Cottage, where we got chatting to a man who used to play in the woods near the Jacksons Boat Inn near Sale. I love small world stories like that.

Being somewhat short of good draught thus far I probably had 3 or 4 pints of the excellent Sir Phillip in here, with WK departing for a Dark Mild for two of his, and I got chance to chat to Ken the landlord who is a veritable font of knowledge. Turns out he and Cliff went to school together, and I learnt more about the Royal Cottage in ten minutes than I could have - or indeed would have tried to - in 10 years of visiting.

Alas eventually we had to head home, and with very little traffic we were back in Crookes in 50 minutes, and back home a little further on for me I sat down with a bite to eat and a satisfied positive feeling of having been to two of the best pubs in the area.

All we need to do now is go back and visit the pub at Crowdecote - where rumour has it, an enterprising new landlord of this formerly Worthington or Tetley only pub, has gone mad and put on four guest real ales. Its just another excuse to go to the Royal Cottage of course, but why not?

Cheers!

Wee Beefy