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 

Black. Lurcher.

Hello again,

       I am aware that aspects of this latest post may seem quite familiar to the one I posted last month about Matins from Abbeydale Brewery. Not least because memories - or a distinct lack of the same - are once again involved. This time however, instead of just memories and guesstimations, the real reason for my post is to share praise. For a classic beer brewed by Abbetdale Brewery, previously only available at a single pub, and due to the insufferable national closure of pubs, now available to all.

Back in the nineties, soon after Abbeydale started, and possibly on only my second or third visit to the same, I tasted some Abbeydale Black Lurcher in the Three Stags Heads at Wardlow Mires in Derbyshire. On my first visit the beers were all, or all apart from one, from Hoskins and Oldfield Brewery in Leicestershire. There was a bitter, a strong ale and an even stronger ale if memory serves. But when I discovered that Abbeydale Brewery in sunny Sheffield were supplying all their beers, I also became aware of a beer called Black Lurcher.

The first issue comes from strength. Checking on the Abbeydale Brewery website Archive of beers, Black Lurcher is listed as 7.0%. I also currently have a mini keg of this wonderous product and it is once again shown as 7.0%. Strangely I seem to recall it being 8%. And this is something I have found, on the tinterweb as well - including a blog called Beertalk. That said its not actually the strength of this fine ale that matters. its just it's fabulous taste. And that is in abundance.

The other thing to point out is the name - numerous websites (on the tinterweb, where everything is true, remember) state that the beer is named after one of the many pub dogs, one of which was the very same, a black lurcher. On my first visit I distinctly remember the lurchers - who are very large, and very dosile, most of the time - as well as a small dog which used to sit quite often with or near landlord Geoff. I understand the dog passed away sadly many years ago, but it is one thing that I specifically recall on a number of visits. Not how to spell the landlord's name alas.....

So, the beer - it is black. And it is, despite it's strength, a very easy drinking tipple. There is bitterness in there as well as dark maltiness and there is sweetness in the taste, but it sits soulfully and carefully at the front of the sup, and the aftertaste is mostly malty bitterness. And to state once again - it is very easy to drink. If you want to read other thoughts of mine about this there is something here... a point in time (2012 it says) when it appears that the pub bottled the beer themselves, a fact proven by my brother WK's visit in that year and never actually confirmed by the fab folk at either the pub or at Abbeydale brewery. I recall finishing there with WK, Chala and Christingpher in 2010 or thereabouts after a lengthy trip around much of Derbyshire and Staffordshire before Chris went down to Bath to study before becoming a teacher. Chris, a man of strong wills, definitely had a whole pint of this. His description of the beer was of it being an immense undertaking. It's also the Three Stags Heads where me and him went in late December 1999 and absolutely loved it.     

The last point to make is that I also remember that around the same time that Black Lurcher - and indeed Last Rites - was produced, that Abbeydale produced a strong beer called King James the....third? Or James the....number. It was brewed especially for former brewer or employee James who had taken on the running of the New Barrack Tavern in Sheffield, also in the late nineties.  Unfortunately the brewery website Archive is a very long list of beers and so whilst it may well be on there, I did not find it before finding the reference to Black Lurcher.

Finally, its one of the few benefits of this awful undertaking of pub closures that Abbeydale had some Black Lurcher spare and were able to sell it, and both myself and Wee Keefy were able to purchase a mini keg of this fabulous brew.  Long may this beer last in my house - although am afraid to say it will probably all be gone by tomorrow. Meanwhile, long may Abbeydale continue to supply it to the excellent Three Stags Heads at Wardlow Mires after they reopen, and long may they continue to brew it. If it is still available I would strongly suggest that you purchase some......

A classic beer for a classic pub.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy.

Staffordshire trundle

Hello again,

          a few weeks ago WF's friend Cheryl from somewhere near St Albans came up to visit him, and to get some time away in the Peak district, before celebrating her 50th birthday. WF had intended us all to go out to the Ye Old Rock Inn at Upper Hulme, but that is currently closed.  Earlier this year we were shocked to find out that Mick, which may or equally may not, be the landlord's name, had put the pub up for sale. As WF had rather fallen out with the food at the Butchers, and as we intended to visit Cliff's, we suggested WF rang the now open and potentially not for sale pub, and to try and book us in.

The Friday in question posed some fairly grim weather, and after turning up at mine at 17.30 myself and WK quickly drove through the downpour to WF's where we picked him and Cheryl up, before we headed out through Bakewell to Monyash before heading down into the Dove Valley to meet up with the staff and customers at the Pack Horse Inn at Crowdecote.

When we arrived I mentioned to the gentleman behind the bar about the sale and he insisted that he would have bought and taken on another pub somewhere up north, but also that the brewery buying the pub off him withdrew their request at the last minute. This good news was improved as always by a choice of 4 real ales, two real ciders, and Moravka lager, unfiltered and brewed in nearby Taddington.

As we were there at about 19.15 we ordered drinks straight away, Cheryl on Cider, W's K and F on a Storm brewing beer, and I had, throughout our visit, three pints of beer from the Matlock Wolds Farm Brewery, a well kept and balanced bitter beer which was very enjoyable. Not a brewery I have come across before, but I have found out that they started brewing in 2014. We all stuck to just mains, WK had rare steak, WF something with Thyme in the dressing, and myself a fantastic piece of chicken breast in a sweet sauce and served with excellent tatties and veg. When we finally finished, and after one of WF's legendary time ending, glacial,  dawdles to the obviatorium, we were full up, so paid and thanked the pub before heading off up to Cliffs.

Its a short yomp up to Longnor, where there are now just two pubs open, Ye Old Cheshire Cheese and the Grapes Inn, before we headed out down the road onto the moorland and past mermaid's pool before arriving down the side road and parking in front of the Royal Cottage. The pub was quite busy when we arrived and once WF was on his Mans Brown Ale, me on a bottle of Old Speckled Hen and both WK and Cheryl were on J2o, we got comfy settled along the back. WF and Cliff got talking once more, whilst me and WK started up a chat with a young couple who were staying in their camper van nearby but actually lived somewhere near work in Sheffield.  

I was able to tell them stories of the unspoilt and alas, often now, closed pubs in Derbyshire and Staffordshire, and to find out details about their previous visits to unchanged Derbyshire pubs. Even after this, we all had to agree that there was nowhere else like Cliff's, and we stayed until 11.00PM before letting him get to bed and driving home through the heavy rain and thick fog back into Bakewell, before dropping Cheryl and WF off in siling rain, and then heading home to mine and then he to WKs.

What this trip has show is that uts another case of change in the area, with the Ye Olde Rock Inn being long term closed for a massive refurbishment whilst the family try to sell it, Ken am told still selling three real ales, not always in the best of form, in the Quiet Woman, the pub that is now known as the Knights Table still open but changed from the excellent free house it once was, and the excellent job carried out by Mick at the Pack Horse,  continuing ever more. Lets hope all this goodness continues, and the otherwise decline is fought off, for many more years to come.

Cheers

Wee Beefy

Wednesday evening wander

Hellall,

         a quick apology first of all for a noticeable lack of input throughout August - I am still going through training help and support in Sheffield following my brain injury in April. I am assured that my replenishment of skills and abilities is going well but, although its very likely down to gaps in the number of posts made, I am struggling to ignore the fear that my reduction in hits is down more to my injury caused typing and writing failures, as opposed to the way that stats drop when you find yourself out of the habit of making posts for a period of time....

I am aware incidentally, that I currently suffer noticable and indeed deal-able with problems with the way I currently write, however I also equally realise that this is more minor than it previously was, and also, to not misjudge my readers. If there are unavoidable issues am certain some of you would very kindly point such things out, but, crucially, you haven't. Therefore its only the nagging worries in the back of my mind which require any action, an event I propose undertaking over time.

So, with wild concerns aside, I have taken the opportunity to tell you about some recent events. Firstly, I have known my friend Mr G for about fifteen years. Current chums may know that I didn't talk to him for the first few weeks as I bizarrely assumed he had mutilated and buried his parents - as I am certain I have mentioned previously, I made my first attempt at conversation with him by asking to check his fingernails for soil. And we have remained strong friends ever since....

I left work about 17.15 and Mr G was on the busily trafficked road over the river. He parked up whilst I joined him and we then undertook a lengthy and fairly frustrating ten minute wait getting off that road and onto Derek Dooley Way to head for Gibraltar Street, and to park outside my Second home, the Shakespeares. As it was Wednesday, we were all too keenly aware of the upcoming horrors of the nidorous harridans the Mother Folkers, so having been bought an excellent pint of Anthology (or similar) low gravity IPA, and Mr G on Deception, we went and sat in the as yet unsoiled clock room for a very enjoyable pint. And it was here I suggested that given he unavoidable horrors ahead we should drive to the Blake Hotel. So we did.....

Arriving at the Blake to find an excellent range, we sat in the window of the room on the left with me supping a 5.5% Neepsend Pale and Mr G on a soft drink, washing down our wonderful Wateralls pork pies with English mustard. We were both in good moods and in a further moment of recklessness, and very much despite my enjoyment thus far, I suggested we now moved on yet again, this time to the Nags Head at Stacey Bank. Once more this idea seemed good and we arrived there thirteen minutes later using the Sat Nav. I dislike such devices in principal. but felt this was very helpful on this occasion.

The Nags Head was busy as always and the beer was well priced as always as well. I had a pint of the Pale Ale on cask from the past at £2.60 a go, possibly two of the same, and Mr G another Soft drink, and we sat outside in the warmth of the evening enjoying both our drinks and the atmosphere.

Taking us home via the village of Dungworth nearby am pleased to say that Mr G hasn't been to the Royal Hotel more than once, so in a surprise final stop we popped inside for finishers. I had a pint of Bradfield, I think, and Mr G a half of the same, and we sat in the area on the right enjoying, once again, both our selected drinks and the atmosphere around us. From here, using the Nav once again, it didn't in fact take long to get home and it was about 21.00 when I returned to open a finishing can, and to prepare for my meeting the next day. Thus far, all has gone well. And, crucially, it was great to catch up with and go out for drinks with Mister G.

Your very best health!

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.

Fiddichside Inn Craigellachie, Moray

Hello all,

     I wanted to write a few words about the above pub, and its landlord Joe Brandie. It may seem strange to pay such a tribute when you discover that I only went once, but that visit was special and affecting. I heard last month that Joe Brandie had sadly passes away at the age of 88 and that the future of the pub is unknown. Lets hope that someone can be found to purchase and run it for many more years.

I visited the pub about five or six years ago with Wee Fatha on a trip up to Aberdeenshire. We had visited the nearby Arbelour distillery and were heading, I think, for the West coast and Seil Island from Fortrose. At least some of the above statements are true....

We stopped first at the Highlander Inn which has an astoundingly large range of whiskies and two or three real ales, which we both enjoyed. I don't remember if the Fiddichside had a car park, but I do remember walking over the bridge and along the side of the road before walking down the steps to the tiny pub to find it open, and landlord Joe stood behind the bar.

Many references to Joe that I have read mention his enjoyment of welcoming visitors from all over the world, and that is one of the first things he said to me. He also didn't seem to mind being in my photos. Myself and WF got halves of Belhaven best and sat down at one end of the tiny, impeccably clean, basic bar room. Mr Brandie returned to his place, and stance, behind the bar. For five minutes we supped in silence before striking up a conversation about our route and destination. The silence, by the way, was easy and glorious.

The pub is on the National Inventory of Unspoilt Pub interiors and was likely unchanged inside for fifty or sixty years, maybe longer. The most amazing feature was just how small the boozer was. I recall the loos were near the entrance but can't remember there being a second room. The bar could probably hold about twenty people. There was a fantastic mirror on the wall facing the bar and a few small stools and tables and a bench that me and WF sat on, and that was it. Basic, unspoilt simplicity.

One thing that we didn't talk about was his wife Dorothy. Not that there was any reason why we should have done, having only just met. However whilst searching for info about the pub I learnt that she had been licensee for many years and had died in 2009 aged 89. The longevity of the couple is notable, but its quite sad to think that Joe would have run the pub by himself for seven or eight years.

I ended up buying some crisps and another drink, and found to my delight that he had started selling Cairngorm or Fyne Ales bottled beers, am fairly sure I had a bottle of Trade Winds to finish my visit.

The pub is in a fantastic rural location, sat in an idyllic spot just past the bridge next to the Fiddich outside the main part of Craigellachie. This factor may raise the price of the building and deter potential buyers from keeping it going as a pub. As yet there are no details of its future. I do hope it reopens, and remains as it appears to have done for so many years, unaltered.

Wee Beefy

Tuckers Grave Inn, Faulkland, Somerset

Hello,

        inspired largely by a photo on his Friendache profile by former pub photo blogger Dimpled Mug, this post aims in sketchy detail to provide memories of my visit to the pub way back in the Noughties.

The pub, sadly, is currently closed and is on the market, at least as a going concern, for £595,000.00. At present, I definitely have £5.95 of that sum available, so maybe could arrange to purchase it over a thousand years? After all, we will soon all be living for many centuries, in space, or similar. Anyway, its more likely that someone else has that kind of money available. The only concern is whether or not they have any interest in preserving its unique character.

Myself and Wee Keefy many moons ago visited Christingpher in Bath where was studying teacherings. He became a supply teachering soon after, eventually quitting as he felt the role required him being a parent, social worker, drug councillor and then a teacher, wrapped up in delivering a curriculum in a style which interested none of his pupils.

Whilst there, and on our way home, we visited many National Inventory pubs. This was one of them.

The Tuckers Grave is, lets face it, a strange name for a pub. I understand it relates to a suicide or hanging which took place nearby of a farm worker called Tucker who is buried under the crossroads outside. It is quite an unusual looking pub as you approach and we had been spoilt in the local countryside by chocolate box country pubs. We needn't have worried.

There is a passageway as you enter with white and pink paint and lots of wood and the bar and main rooms are on the left. The bar is basically in the bay window - although there are other bar free pubs in the UK (less than ten) this is the only such arrangement I have seen. In front of the bar is a long table in a narrow room with just enough space for patrons to sit down each side on large wooden settles.

There is a further room past that to the left where me and WK sat and off the corridor is the blue room. I went in and found it smoky and painted pink, a peachy light red if am to be more accurate, and found two old guys supping cider inside. I said hello, and they asked me if I had come to take photos since I had my rather large SLR camera with me. One then said "do yer know why they corl this the fuckin blue room? Esspecially as its painted pink? Its cos this is wur we come to swear!". It seemed that the swearing of the two drinkers was not tolerated in the bar. It was cider and profanity in here. I have no reason to doubt their tale from the half an hour I was in there....

I had been served earlier by the landlord, who spotted me standing near the bar looking thirsty. Its not actually as weird a set up as you may think - there are three barrels (maybe four?) including a cider, stillaged in the window and the till is on a small table to the side, with the glasses and tankards stacked and hung up on the rafters. I had a pint of Butcombe bitter and WK a half of Cheddar Valley cider, which I later got a pint of.

The folks on the long oak table offered us some roast potatoes from a giant platter and asked where we were from - I probably talked to them for fiteen minutes before returning to WK who was finding his cider all too easy to drink.  The pub was a wonderfully welcoming and busy place serving excellent beer and cider. There is a link here to the entry on the National Inventory pub website.

Incidentally, and am not saying this is contradictory evidence, but the pub is not mentioned as closed on Whatpub and the website says it was last checked in 2017. So is it definitely shut? The BBC reported that Ivan and Glenda Swift could not find a buyer in 2011 and were intending to close it and the NI website reports it for sale. If anyone knows if this pub remains open then please let me know!

Either way, the pub left an impression on me, and I still have my numerous photos which I took whilst inside. If it has closed that is a real shame. As you can see on the NI website the pub had a fantastic and in some ways unique interior.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy

Three Stags Heads Wardlow Mires

Hello,

       a couple of Sundays ago I was out with Tash, and Wee Fatha for post birthday celebrations. We met him at the Abbey after 12.00 and drove over to Ashford in the Water for a snack and hot drinks in a Tea room. From here we drove up to Monsal Head, through Wardlow and the long closed Bulls Head, and into the Car Park opposite the Three Stags.

I first went to the Three Stags Heads with Wee Fatha in 1994. We did a tour of GBG pubs in Derbyshire and finished there for a pint of Hoskins and Oldfield, this being before Abbeydale Brewery started. The pub was, as far as I can remember, exactly as it is now. Except there is a young bloke behind the bar,  whose name I can never remember(Robbie?), and his Missus, along with Geoff and Pat, and the dogs are all new in the intervening 22 years....

My next visit was with CAMRA when I was a member so still last century and they opened the room on the left for a massive spread - am guessing a pub of the month award. It was incredibly rammed, something that also hasn't changed, and I remember having a pint of Black Lurcher, the Abbeydale strong blend dark ale, which used to, and may stil be, 7.2%. Since then I have been in numerous times, most notably four or five with Tash. We had a proper good Saturday session in there on our first ever weekend away. Its fair to say I have been a trifle refreshed on more than one occasion. We have also eaten there, and the food is exceptional.

Don't go to the Three Sags Head if you don't like dogs. There are and always have been, numerous of them sat on chairs, sometimes venturing onto the tables, and sitting on the floor in front of the fire. Customers bring their own, and the lurchers or maybe whippets or others in the pub are well trained, even if they do, understandably bark, at strange hounds. The pub used to have two or three huge black lurchers who often took up the seat on the left by the bar, and when we were in earlier this month one of the snaller dogs got on the table and started drinking Tash's beer. She didn't mind, the dog seemed to like it (only a little bit was had) and the beer was replaced.

On my last four or five visits i have always drunk Abbeydale Absolution. A gloriously easy drinking 5.3% Sheffield brewed pale, in case you have been living in a cave for the last 20 years. Its not session strength but is always well kept and is very good (and easy) to have several pints of. That was true on this occasion, as I finished my third pint as the lights came on, after it had become almost dark except for the fire.

I understand the pub opens three days a week only - Friday from 18.00, and all day Saturday and Sunday. Its rumoured that he sells more real ale in those three sessions than most of the local pubs do in a week - I have never had less then two pints when I have gone in and most other drinkers follow suit so I imagine this could be true. There is cider, and there are some bottled beers as well, which may include a fruit beer and a lager - but I might have dreampt that. And please be aware that mobile phones that go off or make noise are very much frowned upon, so please respect the opinions of regulars and staff alike and turn yours off before entering....

It was good to see Geoff and Pat and the others and once again become immersed in an beautiful  traditional pub atmosphere with real fires, real ale, real opinions and great atmosphere. Very much a no nonsense boozer. And despite and because of his recent ill health, I wish Geoff, Pat, possibly Robbie and Mrs possibly Robbie, the very best for the future. Lets hope they spend many more years at the helm of this wonderful pub.

Cheers

Wee Beefy  

Unspoilt country pubs - a Sunday tour by car

Hello,

        on Sunday myself and Tash were taken out for the day by Wee Fatha on a tour of some classic unspoilt pubs in Derbyshire and Staffordshire. We started our journey travelling to Beauchief Abbey in Sheffield to meet WF who gave us a quick tour. We then got into the car in bright sunshine and set off.

We were soon heading through Chatsworth out on to the A6 and then down to Darley Dale, through Wensley and Winster via some absurd driving by fellow visitors, to arrive at Elton, and the Duke of York. It was shut. It only opens during the day on a Sunday but arriving at 13.55 it was firmly closed. Despite the maniac actions of drivers in Winster nearby we returned there and got parked to visit the Old Bowling Green pub.

I haven't been here for some time and was glad to find that not only was it open but the bar was open all day. We sat outside in bright sunshine supping a pint each of Peak Ales Chatsworth Gold for me and Tash and a half, of which he had less then half, of Abbeydale Daily Bread for WF. The pub serves food and three real ales, the other being Abbeydale Moonshine, and claims on its sign to be from the 15th century - I think it said 1472. Its slightly modernised inside, mainly to extend the amount of seating, but is still a pleasing old style inn.

Off next on a perplexing ramble via Newhaven, Biggin and Hartington to the Manifold Valley. A beautiful drive along the road and up brought us to Grindon and then finally to Wetton, followed by a trip down into Milldale and up onto the main road before finally heading through Thorpe for Ilam. here we took the beautiful road cum track to Throwley and on into Calton before arriving at Cauldon and the Yew Tree.

I can't remember how long it is since I last visited, maybe three or four years ago, and although the pub still retains its collection of amazing antiques, and still sells there real ales, some things have changed. For a start, although landlord Alan East is still on the premises the bar work is mainly carried out now by his son in law and, one assumes, Alan's daughter. They also now have a card machine - which made our visit longer and more thirsty and of course, more excellent.

I started with a pint of fresh on Burton Bridge Bitter, and bought halves of Rudgate Ruby Mild for Tash and WF.  I then went to buy another pint along with a large for WF and a small for me, pork pie. This took quite some time to eat and both were lovely, as was the Bitter. Having been for a wander round and nipped outside for a look at the garden, I then came back to use my card for a further two pints of the Burton Bridge, one of which I shared with Tash. It was good to spot Alan, standing almost transfixed by his ancient polyphon playing in the entrance. Be it bank holiday Sunday or not, the pub was packed throughout.

Our next stop was in Hanley a 40 minute of so drive away. The Coachmakers was threatened with demolition many years ago, despite its listing by English Heritage and CAMRA as a pub with a historically important interior. Since then the new bus station that its clearance was to bring about has been built, yet the pub remains standing. On our visit many locals were sat on the benches outside the pub and inside the beer range was reduced considerably, being just Bass and Black Hole Black rising or similar, a strong dark mild. I had a pint of Bass , Tash a half and Wee Fatha some of a half of the Black Hole.

We were sat on our own in the front bar room with the gentle hub-ub of conversation in the background and the sound of the barmaid serving customers to keep us occupied. It was good to relax in here, although disappointingly the wall of beer mats seems to have been changed into one painted dark grey. Despite this, little else has changed in this National Inventory pub - including the threat of demolition. Still well worth a look if you have or haven't visited already.

We had been planning on visiting the Quiet Woman but decide instead to return to Elton and made our way back to Alstonefield, then the same way from Milldale and then headed to Parwich. As I had a pressing need we stopped there at the Sycamore. This traditional Robinson's house is still very much part of the village and we had a half for me and Tash, one being Robinson's Double Hop, and a tomato juice for WF.

The pub has three or four rooms and serves fod and real ales, and Parwich is a great place to start or finish a walk in the area. I first went about twenty or more years ago and still enjoy a visit - alas we were heading off for our last stop so did not stay around long.

At gone 22.00 we arrived in Elton to find the Duke of York open. Whilst Tash and WF locked the car and got coats on I ran into the pub to order a pint and two halves of the only real ale on which was Marstons Bitter at £2.75 a pint. As is unsurprising, nothing has changed in the Duke of York since I first visited last century - apart form the main bar duties are now carried out by Mary's Nephew.

I discovered whilst there that at present the were not open Sunday lunchtimes because Mary had been very ll in hospital - there are no plans at this time to reopen Sunday lunchtimes, so its 20.30 til 22.30 (or later) most nights of the week.

The beer was also fresh on here and tasted lovely, so much so that I had another pint, and took Tash outside up the old sloping steps to see the toilets - an unusual feature to have outdoor toilets these days. Inside the fire was lit and the locals were chatting to each other about all sorts of things, and the barman as well. Lets hope Mary gets better soon and we see her behind the bar once more at this fantastic old boozer.

So ended a lengthy drive round five brilliant unspoilt or at the very least old pubs in Derbyshire and Staffordshire. Its difficult to pick out a favourite as all have distinctive characteristics but I think as a group we probably liked the Yew Tree at Cauldon best of all -  a cracking traditional pub that has managed to adapt to modern times whilst losing none of its considerable character.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy

Three different North Staffordshire pubs.

Hello,

        after a bit of a health shock on Thursday (now recovered, thankfully), it was nice to catch up with Wee Fatha, Tash and Matty last night for Matty's first trip out to the North Staffordshire Moorlands. As it was his first trip out there, WF planned a less than expedient but thankfully beautiful trip out to show off the sunny scenery, which if nothing else, meant we arrived at our first pub hungry.

We set off around 17.00 and after an unexpected stop at WF's we headed into Chesterfield and then down to Baslow. We drove through Chatsworth then Youlgreave, Lathkil Dale to Monyash and then through Crowdecote and Longnor and onto Reapsmoor. Here, lit by only a single light in crisp evening sunshine, was the Butchers Arms.

On the bar, Carl had gone mad and put 2 pumpclips onto demonstrate what beer was available. Its an in joke at the Butchers, that you either have no punpclips, and he does or doesn't know what is on, or you have one and its something different. This time, the two were Clarks Number 19, which he described as "sweeter" and Island Hopping, a hoppy pale ale. This turned out to be from Orkney based Highland Brewery - there is a link to their website here. Easily the better beer of the two. And quite a surprise to see. Also, a decent price as well - 2 and a half of that and a pint of Clarks came to £8.60.

We were here mainly for food and soon had a seat in an initially smokey back room, and a menu each. The pub is very busy for food Saturdays so we had to order quickly. Me and Wee Fatha went for a couple of Barnsley lamb chops with minted gravy, peas and salad and chips (new pots for WF), while Tash had homemade peppered pork and chips and veg and Matty had an absolute doorstep of a meat and tatties pie and chips. The food worked out about £10.75 each and it was delicious. A great start to the evening. To note, no dogs were in the room when we ate, and more shocking, Carl wasn't wearing shorts! He must be unwell bless him.

From here we carried on and followed our normal route, except for diverting via the Mermaid, the ex pub high on the Staffordshire moors before coming out on the A53. Past the Winking Man, our next destination was ahead of us - the Royal Cottage. We got in before 21.00 and there were two customers already in. I had a bottle of Speckled Hen as I always do, and WF a Manns and Tash and Matty a Newky Brown each.

Despite sporting a recently repainted sign, nothing has changed inside. The bar front is still carved wood, the odd brickwork wallpaper still sits over the fire with old pictures and news reports and details of land sales, Cliff's chair still has the same covers on it, and there is still a Tetley keg pump on the bar. Given that he only ever used to put it on for the monthly folk nights, from two weeks ago, I didn't risk any.

Soon the pub became busy - a couple came in, and sat where Cliff would, and a guy called Martin. The older gent next to us left about 22.00 but three ladies came in who were connected to (but I don't think lived at) a nearby hall. I swear, on a none folk night, there were 11 customers in the Royal Cottage. No word of a lie, I have never seen this except on folk nights.

We listened in on conversations about land sales and farmers and weddings and local pubs, including stories about Carl and his Dad from the Butchers, and me and Matty shared another Old Speckled Hen. However, soon it was 22.30 and we had to head off to Ken's - after all, we didn't want to find him closed. Arriving at 22.44....he very much was. We even knocked on the door but no answer came. WK is camping at the Quiet Woman next weekend, so I will warn him to get back early!

Our final stop was just down the hill at the Packhorse Inn at Crowdecote. Given that it was shut before 2300 last time I hurried in at 22.55 and got served. We had three pints of Leadmill Sheffield Wednesday beer, and WF had a half of Byards Hop Dog - I may have mis-remembered this as there appears to be no such brewery!

We also had a half of Moravka the unpasteurised pilsner form Taddington, and settled down to listen in on a farmer and 2 lads discussing the attendance - or none - at a local 18th Birthday party. The ale was well kept and slipped dwn very nicely as the conversation swung from why we had come here all the way from Sheffield, to what punishment must be inflicted on the younger of the three if he didn't pass his driving test by November.

We haven't been in for a year so this was a good chance to catch up and once again to enjoy a good range of real ales, of which there are four, with plenty of good beers coming on soon. Different, granted, to the older farmhouse style boozers of the Butchers and Royal Cottage, this is still an excellent pub, serving good food and ales. The only snag is, it may not, in fact, be in Staffordshire! Well worth a try anyway, despite.

So, a second trip in the area saw us once again miss the Quiet Woman, which is a real shame, but revisiting the Butchers and Packhorse was well worth the somewhat arduous drive. Having passed so many closed pubs en route, it was also good to see all three doing so well.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy

A North Staffordshire trio

Hello there,

           I realise, as some of you may also, that I have written a number of posts about a triumvirate of Staffordshire boozers. Well, I say Staffordshire, only the Quiet Woman and Packhorse are in Derbyshire, just. Anyhoo, whilst I realise this may indicate repetition, I like to provide details of these trips which always, apart from last time, include the Royal Cottage. Mainly, if nothing else, because no  other bloggers write about this pub.

On Saturday Wee Fatha picked me up and drove me through, and I quote him "unexpectedly busy" tea time traffic to Wee Keefy's. From here, we drove out via Rivelin to Bamford then up through Tideswell and Millers Dale over to join the A53, and down to Upper Hulme. We had booked in for food at Ye Olde Rock Inn, a 7 week early birthday celebration for me and a 3 week late one for WK.

There were three real ales on at Ye Old Rock, Bombardier, Wainwrights and Wincle Rambler. Two and  a half pints of the latter were ordered and enjoyed. We sat on the right near the fire and enjoyed sizeable portions of food -WK had lamb chops, WF a mixed grill and myself a rare 12oz steak with chips, peas and veg. To be fair, the food was lovely. Not that we wanted to sit staring at the plates we had it on for 35 minutes afterwards. Me and WK had tp and one more pints, whilst WF managed to eke his half out.

Up the A53 next and thankfully we got to visit the Royal Cottage. There was a customer already in when we arrived, which was a surprise, and we asked Cliffe why he hadn't opened back in February - he couldn't remember, but it didn't matter. We were just glad he was OK. Alas, after Keith had asked, it turned out Jessie was not, she had been put down in December. It felt bad asking Cliffe because he was obviously still missing her.

We supped bottles of Newky brown, Old Speckled Hen and J20 for Fatha, and then more regulars arrived, including a guy we had seen at Ken's last year. We talked to the guy near us whilst he and the other bloke and Cliffe discussed local history. With the exception of the I'm alright Jack politics discussed by the others, this was a fascinating conversation to listen n on.

Being stuffed from the meal meant we drank slower, but me and WK had a bottle of Manns each then shared a bottle,  whilst WF had another J20. Once more, this was a lovely visit to a pub which reminds, or at least suggests, how pubs used to be.

Arriving at Earl Sterndale at 22.59 the Quiet Woman seemed dark. Leaving the car to the chimes of the church bell, we found the pub closed. I know that bank holiday weekends are funny in terms of predicting numbers of customers, but this did seem a little strange.

Over to Hurdlow next and the Royal Oak was lit up and looked busy inside. However, on leaving the car and walking towards the pub the landlord told us he was now closed - although, when we asked, he did let us use the loos and recommended visiting our final stop.

Further up the road is Monyash and the Bulls Head. Four real ales to choose from, including Farmers Blonde, Hartington Bitter and Church End What the Fox Hat. WK had a pint of that and me the Hartington, with WF on a half of the same. In the end we stayed until gone 00.15 in the busy pub, listening in on the banter and chatting to a group from Woodhouse. The Bulls Head may not have the charm of the Quiet Woman or Royal Cottage but it opens late and serves a decent range of real ales.

So, not all 3 classic Staffordshire moorlands area pubs were tried. but this was once again a classic night out in excellent rural pubs. Will simply have to try again soon and get to see Ken.

Cheers!

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 stags, two sessions, one beer.

Hello,

             your oft absent blogger is back from another sojourn, this time only a short hop away to Litton in the peak district. I had made grand plans to visit Brizzle before coming to my senses and planning a short and more affordable trip away in Derbyshire.

The criteria was simple - I would select a National Inventory pub, and find a B and B nearby, thus enabling me to have a proper late night session in said pub. First idea The Royal Cottage, as well as not actually being on the N.I, isn't exactly surrounded by accommodation. Meanwhile everywhere in Elton or Winster (for the N.I listed Duke of York in Elton) was either full or far too expensive. Luckily, a place to stay 15 minutes walk from the Three Stags Heads at Wardlow Mires was found. And so began an epic stint sitting in and soaking up the atmosphere of this fantastic unspoilt pub.

Arriving in Litton at tea time and having dumped my stuff in my room the first thing to do was go to the pub. Obviously. Very little point being a beer blogger if you don't even venture to try the local pub. The Red Lion is a popular old boozer situated overlooking the village green, and serves good quality food and more importantly, real ale.

On the bar was a choice of Abbeydale Absolution, Acorn Forester, a mainstream national beer and my choice of tipple - Wincle Sir Phillip. At £3.30 for a 4.3% beer its a bit steep but it was the prefect accompaniment to my meal, and just to make sure I had three pints of it. A very satisfactory start to the night.

I then walked out of the village, diced with death walking along the A6 before visiting the Three Stags Heads. The pub was packed out when I got there and I ended up sitting in the Green Room with a couple who, much to my horror, were flagrantly ignoring the no mobile rule! That's two such incursions witnessed in just one year! Clearly the pub will be a themed sports bar by next week at this rate....

The beer range is Abbeydale and more Abbeydale - Brimstone, Deception, Absolution and Lurcher in order of strength. The Absolution is a more than reasonable £3.00 a pint (5.3%) and so it seemed daft to have anything but that. As the crowds thinned a little I ended up sat with the landlord who was talking about their upcoming (Saturday and Sunday 14th and 15th September) pottery and food festival.

Against a backdrop of a fire in the range, a tumult of dogs and good natured banter this was a fantastic session. So often when I visit the Stags I'm on borrowed time, waiting with bated breath to be informed by whoever was kind enough to drive me there that we needed to leave. Now I was sat in walking distance of a bed and constrained only by how late I thought I could realistically get to sleep and still make breakfast at 8.30. This was bliss.

Saturday saw me off down Cressbrook Dale below a canvas of cloud strewn skies and fleeting bursts of sunshine that changed the appearance of mt surroundings constantly. I came back into Litton via Tansley Dale and walked slowly back towards the Three Stags, passing the landlord on the way walking his dogs. Robbie the barman was on hand to dispense beer and conversation and so began another, perhaps even more enjoyable session on the Absolution.

Being there for 6 hours reveals the Stags' contradiction. The pub is a relaxing refuge from the madness of the modern world, yet it's simultaneously an ever changing scene, constantly filled and emptied by a steady flow of customers including walkers, cyclists, a family training for a Forth Bridge abseil, pottery fanatics, sightseers and locals. All washed in and out of the tiny bar, lit by the sun streaming in through the front door, and as ever almost overwhelmed by dogs of all shapes and sizes. To cap it all the Absolution was on great form and had it not been that I was off to Fluff's 40th birthday party I might have been walking back to Litton for the last bus - or contemplating another night away.

As it was, a possibly drink inspired cheeky request to a couple I hoped were Sheffield bound resulted in them giving me a lift back - they even dropped me at the Beauchief Hotel, the venue for the party! Well, after all, if you don't ask, you don't get.

In respect of which, what I got, as well as a helping hand, was a day of exercise and sloth, and excellent beer and company in a fabulous, unspoilt National Inventory pub, which was a fantastic end to my Summer holidays. AKA, exactly what I was after.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy

Past pints and future events

Ey up,

      am taking it easy this week, since the weekend is looking quite refreshing, and now i have to pay my significantly larger mortgage payment I need to be a bit more canny with the pennies. At 300 for a pint, that means I am probably going to have to take up a more traditionally British way of drinking. You know. Friday through Sunday. I'm sure I read somewhere that's really good for you...

Anyhoo, before I came to my senses I did a little bit of extra drinking over the last few days - here s some details and some gnus.

On Sunday I went to the Derbyshire (you've seen he Derbyshire) and walked along the latter stages of the Monsal Trail, AKA the good bit between Millers Dale Station and Blackwell Cottages. Wee Keefy drove us out at some point after dinner and we walked through the three tunnels we'd previously not been in before heading down into Chee Dale to walk back to the Station, near where we parked. Sunshine, fresh air, fauna and scenery is thirsty work. however. So we decided t go for a pint.

After much deliberation about the Anglers Rest or Red Lion at Litton, we decided to head a little nearer home and drop in at the Three Stags Heads at Wardlow Mires. It was rammed,  mainly due to there being a folk music session in the green room as it isn't called. Following the usual plan of stepping over dogs and falling over chair legs I hustled my way to the bar to order a pint of Abbeydale Absolution £3.00, 5.3%) and half a Brimstone for WK (£1.40).

I realise that repeatedly noting that I didn't remember the Stags being inexpensive and what good value it is may suggest to readers that I have begun my dotage already, but its worth repeating on the basis of it being true, and good to know. Perched on a table near the open door, with lilting airs wafting through from the room next door and the conversation bubbling along sociably around us, it was a perfect scenario. Improved only by my getting another pint and a half of Absolution for me and WK getting himself half a Deception. The Three Stags is a classic National Inventory pub, which keeps its beers in top condition and is well worth a visit.

Last night after an exhausting day of work (that's not sarcasm kids) I wandered round to Shakespeares to have a jar or two. I started on a pint of Blue Bee Light Blue, and sat in the Clock Room trying t get over the fact that I am smiling in the photo of me in a certain magazine. They must have taken 20 photographs and I don't remember smiling. I look like a slightly simple serial killer. Luckily the excellent but short-lived pint of Light Blue made up for it. A welcome return for this excellent brew.

Next up was another pint, which also didn't last long, although I had to have crisps due to an unacceptable paucity of pork pies, after which I had halves of the Toolmakers Fine Finish and anther half of Light Blue. I did try the Derventio stout and to be honest it was dreadful. Its testament to Chris' skills of tact and fairness that he managed to describe in a way that didn't involve saying it was crap. A thoroughly nice chap, Mr B.

The Fine Finish was also "eclectic" but not in a bad way, the same as which could be said for the half of Ashover Smoked that I followed it with, along with Abbeydale Tramlines Two. A great range of refreshing beers for a sunny evening. Just needs pork pies...

Off up the hill next to DAda, from being a real pub and nominated for pub of the month many times recently fame. Jamie was manfully running the show when I arrived, and I quickly organised buying a  couple of bottles of Kernel to take out using ny bottle discount card, and bought a pint of the Hawkshead Red. Things were looking good.

It was nice catching up with Jamie but alas the Hawkshead was a little underwhelming. Luckily I sorted this problem by having a p[int of Halcyon. Nothing to say really about one of my favourite beers....

Soon I was joining some students (they didn't run away quick enough see) from Sheffield Uni who studied bones and stuff. That's an actual academic discipline I'll have you know. In a surprising break with tradition I remember all of their names - Jordan, Lyndsey and Mike. Unfortunately for them I "helpfully" scribbled this blog's address (Shit, I'm such a stats whore) on a  piece of paper, a feat which worryingly illustrated that I was feeling "a little tired".

This was not helped by another half of Halcyon and half of the cask Thornbridge Three Beards (it may not have been on Keykeg before btw). A strangely drinkable brown bitter with almost no body, but in a refreshing way, for a darkish 5.0% plus beer. Intriguing..

Eventually I had to admit defeat and head home, leaving those more sober than me to speak clearly to each other. A great after work drink.

Finally a bit of noose. Its the Three Valleys Festival this Saturday. Its really rather good. Here is a link to their website, and everything. Its basically mandatory that you attend.

Also, a new Thornbridge beer is being launched at DAda - Melba has a surprise fruity ingredient (if you've never heard of any words associated with fruit) and is brewed by no less than Jamie himself. Obviously the Halcyon has made me forget which Friday,  but I think its the 14th June. Perhaps best you ring to check, or just go on both Fridays to make sure.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy

Going, gone, definitely gone.

Evenin

      yesterday's post focused mainly on the closure of the Hadfield in Sheffield. Not only because it was entirely topical, but also because I had quite a few other examples of closed and threatened pubs which were different from the Hadfield  in that they have or had certain classic, unspoilt characteristics.

I'm not suggesting that the Hadfield was in anyway the opposite - but I only went in when it was still really a pub when I was 17, and don't remember very much about it, apart from feeling simultaneously daring and conspicuous. In contrast, tonight's post is about pubs that I either knew, know, or you need to know about. All either closed for good, or under threat.

On Sunday I was in Salford visiting an unfathomably giant edifice of a pub. Monstrously dramatic in scale, built for an almost unimaginable heyday of buoyant patronage, with hoards of visitors thirsty for refreshment and entertainment of every kind, high on the drama of race days and gambling, and where all their identified leisure needs were met (I've rewritten this 3 times and it still sounds like I'm describing a brothel. That is absolutely not my intention!)

The Racecourse Hotel in Salford will close on Sunday 26th May. Admittedly its not guaranteed to be forever, but even putting on my most optimistic face, I just can't see anyone with the cash, the time, the dedication and sheer stubbornness to turn such a place round. It would be quite an undertaking to attempt to steer the pub away from the rocks - but if it goes, as seems inevitable since the pub is not listed, we will lose another great architectural accomplishment, and another National Inventory classic .

As an aside, the situation of its closing is complicated by the obfuscate business behavior of current owners Oakwell Brewery. All sorts of rumours have have surfaced re what is happening, but am not going to share them - because the only key factor here is their decision to close the Racecourse Hotel.

For your puzzlement, here's a link to their website "our pubs" section. You have to admire their unfussy process of removing the photo's of pubs they've given up on. Whilst simultaneously being baffled by the sheer grimness of so many of their acquisitions . (with thanks to Curmudgeon and Tyson and Dimpled Mug for links and info).

Next up is the Drovers Inn at Dallowgill near Ripon. Up on the moors and undoubtedly a welcome sight for winter walkers, I have been a couple of times only, but found its cosy traditional layout and friendly atmosphere highly enjoyable. It did occur to me that its isolated location on a quiet road meant it would struggle but it regularly appeared in the GBG so I figured it must have been getting by OK. And besides, even though only twice, it was rammed each time I visited, and Wee Fatha said he same on his visits. When I read in Whats Brewing that it had been deleted from the beer guide, closed I immediately raced to the conclusion it had been converted to a house or closed awaiting change of use consent.

In fact, a change of use had indeed taken place. It was now a burnt down pub. Luckily no-one was injured in the blaze, but its a tragedy nonetheless to see a great pub like the "little drovers"wiped off the map. Its quite a blow for local pub-goers as well, since the other Drovers at nearby Bishop Thornton is also all but destroyed itself.

Moving into West Yorkshire and you may have heard about the unfortunate state, and ongoing campaign to save, the Cock and Bottle in Bradford. Its fair to say this Grade 2 listed National Inventory pub has had a chequered and at times inglorious history, but the fact that its currently closed and appears to be having unapproved work done on its interior is a real cause for concern.

As fans of Tommy Ducks in Manchester will know, the punishment meted out for knocking down pubs when you haven't the authority to do so is a pittance, so God only knows what type of mild slap on the wrist the desecration of the rare interior of the Cock and Bottle will entail. The lack of any website for the campaign (so far) is a shame but for the twits among you there are updates, albeit in a slightly odd pub as human perspective, from the following account @ajheyes50.

Other recent examples have included the formerly village owned Drewe Arms in Drewesteington, Devon.  I visited in 2004 and it was probably about 10 years too late to appreciate at as a truly unspoilt country boozer but it was still interesting and aesthetically pleasing, and importantly, busy. The fact that Enterprise are looking for new tenants after the previous ones left after a rent price hike does not bode well - I don't have much faith in their selling it to an interested party at a reasonable price, but we'll see.

Closer to home and Sheffield encapsulates many different pub styles and designs in its now much reduced stock, and quite a few sad closures have happened in the last few years. Yet in contrast to blazing country pubs and unloved inner city boozers , almost all of Sheffield's pub losses of late have been squarely down to conversion into dwellings.

The Robin Hood in Little Matlock, Stannington, closed at the end of August 2011, after the owners tried to market it as a pub with high quality food and accommodation. Such a scheme would have been beautifully romantic had it come off, with the pub hiding at the end of a long tree lined lane, but it was alas, a bad judgement call. Once the owners realised their dream of making the huge building pay its way it was closed as a pub, and the plan was to convert it to apartments.

Interestingly, on my later visits I still considered it to be a traditional pub, with its huge central beam in the top bar and the downstairs bar linked by stairs, gloriously cool with its high ceilings. However, I recently discovered that as well as having changed its name at some point (clearly to capitalise on the nearby Loxley legend) having been called the Rock, it also previously had two rooms in the small top floor area with the back bar for darts above the fireplace. It seems likely the bottom bar would therefore have been domestic rooms, with the cellar beneath (given that he drop was on a steep slope running down into the valley, a very long way from the bar at the top).

Its lucky that I started walking in the Loxley valley area again or I might have never rediscovered the pub - I used to go there throughout the summer holidays with my parents for an al fresco coke (for me) and a clamber on the rocks on the bank which the path to the pub descends.

Another childhood pub that my Mum and Dad would take me and my brother to, usually whenever there was a promising sunset, was the Bell Hagg Inn, on Manchester Road. Although a fair walk from nearby housing it should really have been a success, based on its location alone (even if it did change its name to the John Thomas when it was acquired by Banks'....)

The other day I discovered this explanation for its closure on the rather excellent Lost pubs website. Its puzzling that Banks' Brewery seem to have no interest in securing the now perilously derelict building, even if they don't intend to reopen it as a pub. A sorry tale all round. Admittedly this is slightly off the theme having not been converted into flats, but its still a woeful fate to befall a good pub.

The final crop concerns both of the Freedoms in Walkley - most lately the House, converted into, um, flats  with the View having been cruelly sacrificed for crap student flats early in the century. Add to that the Albion, not exactly an unspoilt gem, but noted as selling more Stones than any other pub in Sheffield, if not the UK, which was "offloaded" by the pub-co and became, well, yet more student flats, likewise the Springfield on Broomspring lane, the Crown on Walkley Bank, and of course, the dear old Heavygate.

However, against this backdrop its nice to hear some good news! And its my public duty to share it with you pub lovers so you don't end up psychologically damaged by this post.

Firstly, the Commercial at Wheelock, according to Dimpled Mug, has reopened. Possibly one of the least prepossessing pubs from the outside, it didn't look exactly in rude health trade wise when I visited a few years ago, but it has an outstanding unspoilt interior. Make sure you go visit it and maybe it will stay open.

And finally  though this may be unsubstantiated, but I hear the Lower Turks Head on Shudehill in Manchester really really is going to open! A quick Google search leads to numerous similar claims and worries about its conversion over the years, but aside from all of that, if nothing else, this fantastic picture shows that the building appears to be in good nick (though am not sure about its neighbour...).

Having walked past its glorious frontage many times en route to the Hare and Hounds, I've always thought what a brilliant sight it would be to see the pub reopen. Lets hope the sun actually rises on this project, finally, and the pub is once more open to the public.

Cheers

Wee Beefy

A quick addition - have a butchers at this post on a similar theme from Alan Burnett. He's a big fan of traditional Yorkshire pubs, and now he's back blogging after a significant break you might like to give his site a look. WB

Cask-less wonders

Now then,

  it struck me writing about cask only pubs that as an aficionado of unspoilt boozers it was actually harder to think of those selling just real ale. Whether you like t or not, in pubs with restricted hours or that are well out of the way, a cask is a slightly dumb idea. Wastage. Disappointment. Ullage. Not good.

The thing is, many in the beer blogging fraternity consider that one of the central, if not the primary considerations for a pub being good, is that it sells the fine drink. Whilst I conceded there is a mix of criteria for greatness, I increasingly find myself visiting truly amazing pubs, both interior and atmosphere wise, that haven't a drop (I'd like) to drink.

Before I continue I must add the long closed Hop Pole at Risbury in Herefordshire to my list of none keg pubs. There was only room at the bar for the landlord. I saw bottles of cider, but his cask was kept in a pin under the stairs as you came in. Woods Parish Bitter, at £1.10 a pint. Very agreeable!

So here is a list of some cracking unmissable pubs that don't sell real ale. I think if you can get over that, you will be warmly rewarded.

The Royal Cottage Inn, A53 Leek Road,  near Upper Hulme. According to Ken at the Quiet Woman, Cliff's Dad used to serve Worthington from the barrel (more likely the jug) in this isolated moorland pub, where it is claimed that anyone in their 50's to 70's now would certainly have earned their drinking stripes. Cliff senior apparently used to be up and down the stairs to the cellar non stop fetching ale for throngs of customers. Now the restrictive opening hours means that even smooth flow Tetleys is a gamble - if it's not sold at the popular music nights on the last Friday of every month. Well worth a visit despite all of the above - Friday and Saturday, 20.00 til no-ones in.

The Duke Of York Leysters Herefordshire. A quintessential unspoilt pub with two rooms and an ancient bar, with just Bass Toby Ale for drinking, plus bottles. One of the longest established family pub ownerships in the UK, the unchanging pace and appearance of life here is something rare these days. Not too restricted opening hours, and always part of community events, its well worth popping in, especially if you are visiting the excellent Talbot at Knightwick for heady freshly hopped ales followed by the Sun at Leintwardine.

Railway Tavern, Kincardine, Scotland. An amazing pub the size of a matchbox, one doorway in with a room at each side (but mainly only the left hand used), with a tiny bar and a long table in the window. Room for about 16 in the main room. An amazing surviving small wet led pub that is well worth a visit, if nothing else to note the natural ebb and flow of conversation between regulars who I imagine have been drinking together for decades. Tennents Ale and Heavy  plus lager on here, plus a limited spirits choice. A full review from 2011 is here.

The Seven Stars, Halfway House, Shropshire (now closed). This is, or really, this was, a very unusual set up of a public bar adjoining a hotel in a separate building. Am not sure why the hotel would not have had a bar, but wonder if maybe the Seven Stars was the destination for a more down at heel traveler - maybe the hotel bar was ostentatiously exclusive?

Me and Wee Fatha visited in 2003 and it was one of a kind. The landlord and landlady were in the kitchen behind a closed door. We sat on giant settles just to the side of the fireplace and the door to the toilets to our right (a tiled bit of wall on the detached house next door, with a screen to hide you from the road, but no provision for sitting down!), and we listened in on the radio for a good few minutes before Wee Fatha went to order our drinks.

An old lady opened the door and said "Yes?" and WF responded that he would like a couple of beers. The landlady agreed but he wanted to know what the beer was. This was not a good question. Without a flicker of sarcasm or irony of the lack of information that repeating the same information provided, she reiterated that it was "beer". Three times. Only, it wasn't strictly beer. Like an odd under-mixed beer concentrate  it was hardly recognisable as the Burtonwood they served next door. And it didn't bloody matter. The place was completely unique.

Goat,  Llanfihangel Yng Ngwynfa, near Welshpool Wales. Recently a venue for Dimpled Mug, if anything the interior in the bar seems more modern than when me and Wee Fatha and Wee Keefy visited in 2001. The first room is unmistakably domestic, the second, now with a rashly installed bar (about 30 years ago?) is still barely a pub room. We only got to visit because when we called them the lady who answered the phone said that her cousin was coming in specially on the Saturday lunch to clean the pub, so even though they didn't usually open she would leave the door unlocked so we could come and visit. Bottles of Marstons with not a hand pump to be seen. And only one sign, on the right hand wall, proclaiming the word "Goat". Brilliant.

Vine, Tunstall ,Staffordshire. An amazing back street local in the Pitts Hill area, very hard to find if you are expecting to see it from the road, since its tucked away round a corner. A dwindling army of regulars attends mainly in the right hand bar room; sadly the older female customers have now passed away and the lounge on the left, which in 2001 was just that, is more prosaic in its appearance, whereas before it had table cloths,  doilies, cushion covers, curtains and tea pots.

So as this eulogy doesn't run forever I must also briefly make mention of the Fiddichside Inn at Craigallachie, near Abelour Aberdeenshire,  the now sadly long closed Colliers Arms at Mossley, the Lion Royal Hotel at Rhayader, Wales, The Mawson , Brunswick, Manchester, the Cornewall Arms, Clodock, Herefordshire, and in a cheeky move, am going to once again include the Cider House, Defford, Worcestershire. Coz it dunt sell beer at all.

All are stunning examples of pubs that stand out for being unusual, isolated, ultra traditional and interesting in equal measure. Anyone who knows me can vouch for my love of real ale, but these are venues that encapsulate the better features of pubs gone by. They are unswervingly tilling a course that means they remind people of what pubs used to be like, and indeed what they can be like.

A last special mention should go to the Red Lion in Wensley, Derbyshire. Now closed (as far as I can ascertain, although its been difficult to tell for years) the Red Lion was a unique pub. And that's borderline euphemistic. I went in once with Chala, and Wee Keefy has been in twice with Ralphus. When we went there was no draught beer (even the keg fonts were covered with towels, al-a the Station Hotel on the Wicker Sheffield) and the only canned beer other than Guinness seemed to be Youngers Tartan Special.

We walked in muddy from a climb down the dale and were immediately greeted with a sign insisting we removed our footwear and placed plastic bags round our feet. Once inside there were possibly two rooms plus toilets. The Ladies had no running water so having fallen on her arse down the hill Chala had to wash her hands behind the bar. The gents did at least have cold water.

A couple sat to our right with a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches, every flavour of which had beetroot in. There were formica tables and hollow cylinder chairs (made of bent metal pipe) and an old Mackeson sign, plus the smell of soup. And tea. And fear of photographs, as we discovered.  The pub struggled on until the last year or two, gaining notoriety for its "special" - half a pint of milk mixed with a can of Guinness, which, apparently, you had only 30 seconds to drink before it congealed. Ralphus was a fan. I cannot realistically explain why.

Irrespective of the odd tale above, I would still strongly urge you to seek out interesting and unspoilt pubs, even if they don't sell real ale. After all, you can always have a decent pint somewhere nearby afterwards. Though, chances are, you'll not find a glass of special....

Happy wandering

Wee Beefy

All hail to the Lodge!

Hello,

    there's been a pleasing upsurge of interest and coverage of the subject of unspoilt pubs recently. Paul Bailey kicked it all off with a post making reference to his Kent pub guide and the subject was covered on this blog here. The linchpin of this developing interest was the list of Classic Basic Unspoilt Pubs of Great Britain.

Rodney Wolf Coe's list only ever featured pubs that sold real ale, and was compiled, it seemed, largely as the result of tips and recommendations from throughout the UK. It got me thinking about 2 notable farmhouse pubs in Derbyshire - The Queen Adelaide at Snelston Common* and the Lodge, near Stretton, which never featured on the list versions I've seen. The problem was, there seemed to be a dearth of info about The Lodge (this info itself came about as a discussion in 2010 between Wee Fatha and a couple of blokes in a pub in Ashover!) so I tried to conduct a bit of research.

As far as me and WF could ascertain, The Lodge was a farmhouse pub, located up a road that soon became a track, near Stretton in Derbyshire. I only ever went there once (assuming I ever did!?) and I'm not even certain when that was. My mind tells me it had a barn door reminiscent of a hatch, and some sort of signage, and beer kegs outside. And that's it.

Frustratingly my visit wasn't even as a drinker - it never opened during the day and we just happened to be passing and wanted to know if I could get a soft drink.

Further uncertainty surrounds the name. Colloquially it was referred to as Bill and Ben's, a haunt for local farmers who'd gather after the work was done late into the night drinking probably keg Mansfield. WF described it as a "Mansfield house" but I think given the location of the pub I'm not so sure. Convinced that it wasn't a proper tied establishment, we tried to work out the pub, such as it was, name, based on a map of the area. There is a Handley Lodge farm in about the right place, linked to a road by a track, and there is another farm further up called Stretton hall farm, WF claims the pub had hall in the name but I think a more likely pub name was the Handley Lodge, shortened simply to "The Lodge". But is any of this true?

I have now received an early copy of the Ramblers Association guide to the fledgling Chesterfied Round Walk. It uses 1980's Ordnance Survey map fragments to assist walkers in interpreting its directions. There is a pub marked off New Road (as WF insisted) but on the A61 side of the railway - where the walk doesn't go. So to locate the pub I need to head off that way and knock on a door or two! Here's what I found.....

Ashover New Road isn't a joy to walk along since large stretches have no pavement. I joined the guides directions at the point the walk joins the road and first started up a bridleway that headed for Handley Lane and Handley Lodge farm. My plan was to also see if there was or had been a pub the other side of the railway, where its marked. Luckily, I bumped into a local couple out walking their dog, and despite my rather fractured picture and poorly sourced info, they knew where Bill and Ben's was. It was 3 miles away. And there had been a pub on the other side of the railway. Cue a walking history lesson!

The couple told me that Bill and Ben's was a farmhouse pub. However, it was called The Press, and is in the Alton and Press area of Ashover, near to Old Tupton and Wingerworth. Bill and Ben it seems have long since passed away, but there was agreement that a new license application was considered or even lodged in the last 5 years or so, possibly by a Mr Bigley. It was also suggested that Bill and Ben were quite old when they were running the pub, and that when it got late they'd retire to bed and leave a tin for the customers to put the money for their beer in.

There are a few candidates in Press, looking at the map, most notably Northedge Hall Farm and the higher of two Press Farm's. This, however, is still based on my farm up a track idea - and now I'm not so sure about that even! I will do a bit more searching and may even twist Wee Fatha's arm to drive out to Press and Alton one day for a neb, but the chances of getting a pic, either now or from the past seems slim.

One final point is that the 1980's Ordnance Survey map which I assumed had placed the PH sign on the wrong side of the railway due to a lack of space, is in fact correct, in that there really was a pub on Highstairs Lane called the Hideaway - now a much extended private house, but having a possibly 17th core, the front of which was the pub.

So, although not scientific, I think I trust local knowledge better than my fragmented memories, so am happy to have some certainty about the location of Bill and Ben's but disappointed that I have still not seen the building. And, the 1980's map also shows a no longer trading pub near Poplar Farm on Holmgate Lane at Henmoor, which is only just off the Chesterfield Round Walk route. Which makes me wonder - have I simply attached the idea of the farmhouse pub I visited being Bill and Ben's, when in fact it was Poplar farm?

There in lies another expedition.....


Wee Beefy

N.B : Nearby was another unusual licensed building, this one surviving until very recently (and one which I managed to visit one summers evening in 2008) , that being the New Napoleon, overlooking Ogston Reservoir. This presumably wasn't always a pub, obvious not least by its unusual interior layout, but also because when Ogston Reservoir flooded the valley, it covered the Ashover Light Railway and a pub, The Napoleons Home. And carrying on through Ashover, on Slack Hill, A632, a farm on one of the two left hand turns (Slack Lane being one, as you head towards Matlock) also used to be a pub. If anyone has any info on any of these pubs I'd love to hear about them.

*Update : I have finally found a picture of the Queen Adelaide (I just discovered that in a Freudian slip I called it the Quiet Woman...) - here's a link on the excellent Lost Pubs Project website .

Dronfield and Barlow pub crawl

I dunno readers,

     if am socialising theres no time to blog; if am not socialising there's nowt to blog about; if am blogging theres no time to socialise. A tawdry, ruddy nosed cycle of face drying monitor rays and nose reddening toxins that ends in RSI and liver damage. Merry Christmas!

Still, its not all bad you know, and one of the perks missing from that seemingly perpetual flowchart is those days when I get to do something new, in this case as a direct result of a tip off form other folk in the world of beer. Last month Dronfield CAMRA mentioned a pub that I ought to visit in Barlow Commonside, given my interest in unspoilt pubs. I thought I might have been before but if I had that would still have been ten years ago so it seemed prudent to construct a walk with it in the middle and head off into the countryside.

Christingpher and I arrived in Dronfield dan walked up to Hill Top, over the bypass and down towards Barlow Lees. Only 20 minutes from Dronfield you are in fantastic unspoilt countryside stretching for miles ahead with only the faintest echoes of the bypass in the background. We strode on through fields and woodland down ancient green lanes to Barlow Brook then up onto the road the Barlow Brewery is on, and finally into Barlow Commonside to our fist stop, the Hare and Hounds on Commonside Lane.

Despite my suspicions this was my first visit and it was perhaps better than I'd been expecting. With the greatest of respect tp Dronfield CAMRA, most people recommend "unspoilt" pubs to me that are simply old but which have been ripped out, expanded or had their age overemphasised. The Hare and Hounds is not such a pub.

I didn't get much sense for how old it was but the tap room on the right is very traditional, if only because of its small size, and the small snug that sits to the right of the bar. There are two further rooms to the left, front and back. The seating and tables are basic and, I mean this in a complimentary way, it seems to have been refurbished and furnished mainly in the 1960's or 70's, giving it a pleasing careworn feel.

There are two real ales on the bar (it may have been three, possibly I misunderstood). On this occasion we ha on pints of the Barlow Heath Robinson, £2.60 a pint and a great session beer to start. We were then kindly given free sandwiches (much appreciated!) before we went back for a pint each  of the Barlow IPA, which I think is the Three Valleys one at 5.0%, £3.00 a pint.

The pub was very busy when we arrived around 12.30 but was quieter by the time we left an hour later, and was a fantastic place to people watch, sup great beer and soak up the warmth and atmosphere. You'd especially appreciate this if you a dog lover, as there were nearly as many of them as humans. The beer was well kept, and no doubt had we wanted we could have sat in the back room and admired the views across towards Holmesfield - it must be a great spot in summer. Here's a link to their website .

We cracked on down past the puzzling shut Trout next and then off up Far Lane, in crisp wintry sunshine before heading across to Johnnygate Lane on dwindling quality paths before joining a path that was actually a stream, into Millthorpe. The Royal Oak was open and warm and welcoming and we got sat down chatting with the manager and a regular whilst supping pints of Gales Seafarers (£3.00). We were kindly given a lot of information about the pub - that it was a Berry's House, that Berry's only owned 6 pubs, how it was extended and what formed the original parts of the 17th C building, and lots more. To be honest, the rather basic style of the above detail reflects how unclear my recollections are, and since they don't have a website I recommend you pop along and find the facts out for yourself.

We slogged up Cartledge Lane into Holmesfield next and went straight to the Horns Inn. Three beers were on, Greedy King IPA, Bradfield Farmers Blonde and Ossett Nervous Turkey - my pint of the latter was £2.70. This was a busy pub with a warm welcome and well kept beer that was one of the unexpected stars (based on previous form) of the Three Valleys beer festival 2012. Well worth a visit at other times I'd suggest.

Along the slightly dangerous dark lanes to Northern Common next and the Hearty Oak. A slightly depressing sight to see only 2 out of 5 handpumps in use, even if it was a Sunday, and more so to spot more Greedy King, but the Sheffield Brewery Co NZPA 2 was a nice pint at around the £3.00 mark. There was also possibly another real ale about to come on.

Off down Carr Lane to the Talbot we caught the bus to the Coach and Horses for our penultimate stop. Great to see Buxton guest beers here, we had a pint of Buxton English Pale Ale and  a half of their American Red Rye Ale, plus a half of Halcyon - well - you had to. To finish we had another half of Halcyon, for Christingpher, and a bottle of Urthel Saisonairre, but not before I'd laboured to have the member of staff find or agree to the existence of said bottle. That said it was an exemplary range and all tasted fantastic, most notably the Buxton Rye.

Back in Sheffield we alighted the bus near the Rutland Arms so it would have been churlish not to have gone in. In true Beefy day out finishing style I had a whole damn pint of the Raw/Steel City Irresponsibly - it would have been irresponsible to have drunk it responsibly after all. It may not have been my finest decision though, given my rather lengthy sleep inspired trip home...

So this was a great trip out round some new and rarely visited pubs, coupled with some conveniently fantastic weather. Its well worth trying the walk for yourself and visiting some of the other pubs along the way - the Old Pump in Barlow, Rutland and Miners in Holmesfield and Victoria and Three Tuns in Dronfield for example.

Thanks to Dronfield CAMRA for the tip.

Cheers!

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.