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19-09-2022, 03:17
Visit the Paul Bailey's Beer Blog site (https://baileysbeerblog.blogspot.com/2022/09/when-youre-dying-for-pint-but-doom-bar.html)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMXPmDAWnNnUFHoQMZ7y93FWsXhVwFmLrl_OcimcG6y fM7MwI3P1-cv0HjTH1G2x1a8GUdu3h9-lZ9Q_OA0VqkdN5jigdj5eo-37ayDDPj6t6A9bFPCfop_GRrbXu9llcVlaGpdji4keachyeuPj 5nzBITcKPmwGiNibRC9xUIlS7QXjMtfG1Lux7/w400-h225/IMG_20220917_152930.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMXPmDAWnNnUFHoQMZ7y93FWsXhVwFmLrl_OcimcG6y fM7MwI3P1-cv0HjTH1G2x1a8GUdu3h9-lZ9Q_OA0VqkdN5jigdj5eo-37ayDDPj6t6A9bFPCfop_GRrbXu9llcVlaGpdji4keachyeuPj 5nzBITcKPmwGiNibRC9xUIlS7QXjMtfG1Lux7/s4000/IMG_20220917_152930.jpg)
There are times when you just want a beer, regardless of what it is, or who brews if. You’ve been keeping yourself busy and working hard or, as in my case, been out for lengthy country walk in the autumn sunshine, along a stretch of the North Downs Way.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvDLkdhRFxfNo6ox4HXXVnkUf9xf62_07tFIAo88gSJ KIH4_ZhBIWzYt9KncUA4G3GopRRO-YMUZ_Iqf_23vOqrihxNsp2CuvocOloT_rq5bhchiMedA80ubRK LqmpLuuNUM2BQ2j8fJz8cdqg5A-oQpauHidS3QjfjWNy7XwNe7PKHy2AKjAhgtj/w400-h225/IMG_20220917_135627.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvDLkdhRFxfNo6ox4HXXVnkUf9xf62_07tFIAo88gSJ KIH4_ZhBIWzYt9KncUA4G3GopRRO-YMUZ_Iqf_23vOqrihxNsp2CuvocOloT_rq5bhchiMedA80ubRK LqmpLuuNUM2BQ2j8fJz8cdqg5A-oQpauHidS3QjfjWNy7XwNe7PKHy2AKjAhgtj/s4000/IMG_20220917_135627.jpg)
Three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon was such a time when, having walked from Shepherdswell station to Waldershare House, and then back to Shepherdswell village green, I was gagging for a pint. I was also in a hurry, because I had a train to catch, and as services back to Dover, and then home, were only hourly, time was of the essence.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBh1ICVjgr8T8C6QTg-xrgSvYZgZAzIdtwxJoextXyet8-Xghg2cQAq3NbSyymmJYg3WpVfMC1bwTKvBVs7NYsDPWWj8LZLh 0P0IR2K3uc-v5cdmNRKH8oYBlOg1UPtS6pMgn2AV1uNqW5TzWSMLg70Fe4QbH ktcBsqZPSXvTudbJb6tACXuQNqMp/w400-h230/Ornate%20seat.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBh1ICVjgr8T8C6QTg-xrgSvYZgZAzIdtwxJoextXyet8-Xghg2cQAq3NbSyymmJYg3WpVfMC1bwTKvBVs7NYsDPWWj8LZLh 0P0IR2K3uc-v5cdmNRKH8oYBlOg1UPtS6pMgn2AV1uNqW5TzWSMLg70Fe4QbH ktcBsqZPSXvTudbJb6tACXuQNqMp/s3611/Ornate%20seat.jpg)
For some reason, I was convinced there were no pubs remaining in Shepherdswell, an assumption that wasn’t entirely without foundation, thanks to What Pub. This normally reliable source has no pubs listed in the village, and it was only after a quick peep on my phone, when I stopped to eat my sandwiches, and take a much-needed break, that I discovered that What Pub isn’t always infallible.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qZlD7Ns3Xt1AQghJrVGD8FYjzo3ksO1VcLC40UL0Qw LWWJJEXVU5y-0oEOyw_Pwd3XczrO-bo583RkXqdgW4f28yyLGhpGawN_bfdx-_oUwb7TbC3C8sHaazjeKoUqbd9F4Fx096YZGrdN4rEf6uTs-jxE1BkSCX2GjSmATwjmyuDRBFR96kqixg/w400-h233/Bell%20Inn.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qZlD7Ns3Xt1AQghJrVGD8FYjzo3ksO1VcLC40UL0Qw LWWJJEXVU5y-0oEOyw_Pwd3XczrO-bo583RkXqdgW4f28yyLGhpGawN_bfdx-_oUwb7TbC3C8sHaazjeKoUqbd9F4Fx096YZGrdN4rEf6uTs-jxE1BkSCX2GjSmATwjmyuDRBFR96kqixg/s3812/Bell%20Inn.jpg)
The spot chosen for my lunchtime break was less than a mile away from the small settlement of Coldred, and for this reason I’d been checking on the Carpenter’s Arms - an unspoilt pub of some repute. I had only been to the Carpenter’s once before, and seeing as I was close by, it would have been remiss not to have made a return visit. Unfortunately, and as is often the wont with “unspoiled pubs,” the Carpenter’s has limited hours of trading and, even on a Saturday, doesn’t open its doors until 5pm.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nLXysls0PwRxfuLCYkYLAGK2I9QpYoSlwE4GB9p2Az 4amgih0L2LmBovXSIVlkqK2h-2T-treHfS-RDPI4aVUqFenTjTe6noRSFv59AOElp2kGPeBuOg-TMKOBvkgpkqDTLjFKszQnOgoAdRpTOVU_sDv78SsYjSfDQMHUM mmd9Qqet42WneNnWK/w400-h216/Bell%20Inn%20-%20green.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nLXysls0PwRxfuLCYkYLAGK2I9QpYoSlwE4GB9p2Az 4amgih0L2LmBovXSIVlkqK2h-2T-treHfS-RDPI4aVUqFenTjTe6noRSFv59AOElp2kGPeBuOg-TMKOBvkgpkqDTLjFKszQnOgoAdRpTOVU_sDv78SsYjSfDQMHUM mmd9Qqet42WneNnWK/s3661/Bell%20Inn%20-%20green.jpg)
It was then that I came across the Bell Inn, also listed under Coldred, although a glance at the map indicates the pub is well and truly in Shepherdswell, which is a much larger settlement. So, the village wasn’t pub-less after all, but what on earth is What Pub playing at, and why hasn’t the local CAMRA branch corrected this obvious error?
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BtLZEiX1YvRdc1rZM3efzQQ83BYraPbL51bLIWxf58 alSlR_hAHADdyAcUgFsCRrvR9UljjsaE6zKu9fFRNfiaoBvMc9 L41UsIge6En_m85Kb8Mzzgusy249fNmJeNunYbvn0NlaKtY_yD 2NCvwYkE13yDAQN6Ab6vO5dPW2GNTw2ru833jpY70_/w400-h213/Shepherdswell%20station.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BtLZEiX1YvRdc1rZM3efzQQ83BYraPbL51bLIWxf58 alSlR_hAHADdyAcUgFsCRrvR9UljjsaE6zKu9fFRNfiaoBvMc9 L41UsIge6En_m85Kb8Mzzgusy249fNmJeNunYbvn0NlaKtY_yD 2NCvwYkE13yDAQN6Ab6vO5dPW2GNTw2ru833jpY70_/s3752/Shepherdswell%20station.jpg)
The next question was where exactly was the pub, and would I be able to locate it on my way back to Shepherdswell station? What Pub has the Bell located in Church Hill, overlooking the green so the presence of a church was the obvious clue as to its whereabouts, but it wasn’t that obvious. This was because on my outward journey from the station, I had followed the route of the NDW, but once back in the village I’d be able to return along the road, which was shorter and more direct.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_b6xG4hKkJAosK8YydsIw0UTSC4tQeUMJQ-fi5ZN0dYBSVMqxpUOIGccp_N6AbokMvkzXePNXgkxKSh9KybUs gbKK4-jiAVggDAQpdSBd8_YpKCZC3Kft2HmS6Zh8UkOcLtudhX_rtsH2 Z0bh2hfieJPYTwX-tVN4xzigq_bHdsSWNU5VtobCV33_/w400-h225/IMG_20220917_151511.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_b6xG4hKkJAosK8YydsIw0UTSC4tQeUMJQ-fi5ZN0dYBSVMqxpUOIGccp_N6AbokMvkzXePNXgkxKSh9KybUs gbKK4-jiAVggDAQpdSBd8_YpKCZC3Kft2HmS6Zh8UkOcLtudhX_rtsH2 Z0bh2hfieJPYTwX-tVN4xzigq_bHdsSWNU5VtobCV33_/s4000/IMG_20220917_151511.jpg)
I noticed the church, as I emerged from the footpath, so stopped to ask a couple, out walking their dog, as to the whereabouts of the Bell. Just there, across the green, was the reply, and turning to my left I could indeed see the Bell Inn, a charming, flint building, on the opposite side. I thanked this couple, and hurriedly made my way across the green, as hinted at previously, I was dying for a pint.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbt3dLvzhUQB92H9XNQol_NHtmoUcHP56wQBr878rjP4 KGTRc7YFLi9LnUXc1uWWWDYxboN-Ugo8lrLbnsvUyS9QkAdZoYdgIqMFUGETjHohDwxZYcgXL15aVY OD-Ioj_OW1h0Mu6sk5xlCnkty9SvjAPauatGP-e5EIjTax05oTilx2_V_oBZAlhF/w400-h234/Bell%20Fireplace.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbt3dLvzhUQB92H9XNQol_NHtmoUcHP56wQBr878rjP4 KGTRc7YFLi9LnUXc1uWWWDYxboN-Ugo8lrLbnsvUyS9QkAdZoYdgIqMFUGETjHohDwxZYcgXL15aVY OD-Ioj_OW1h0Mu6sk5xlCnkty9SvjAPauatGP-e5EIjTax05oTilx2_V_oBZAlhF/s3847/Bell%20Fireplace.jpg)
I made my way inside, and found a small group of mainly male drinkers, gathered in front of the bar. I quickly looked back and forth along the counter, disappointed that Doom Bar appeared o be the sole cask offering. It looked as if London Pride had also been on sale, but with the pump clip turned around, it would have to be "Cornwall’s finest." Actually, that should read Burton’s finest, because for many years now, Sharp’s brewery, in Rock Cornwall, has not possessed the capacity necessary to turn out the volumes associated with Britain’s best-selling cask ale. This position goes hand in glove with the acquisition of Sharp’s, by global giant, Molson Coors, who turned Doom Bar into the national brand it is today, but in doing so the new owners invariably cut corners and dumbed what had once been a characterful and enjoyable beer into blandness personified.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYewlgRLXZgY9_QsV0poO0BPhe9egeia6qQlqDHWx5U H447YRJS9a4FpX385bAQHa--ygN_wAhubF8HslilgmR1ar5pvz2lu9AR4qN534PHQGtbc-cDRGnqBCLKZtiAn3uI1SONlYlpf44hic7jH9g06pCHbhGCKb19 mq7oy_qYvOM2c7RDS-nhYL/w300-h400/Doom%20Bar.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYewlgRLXZgY9_QsV0poO0BPhe9egeia6qQlqDHWx5U H447YRJS9a4FpX385bAQHa--ygN_wAhubF8HslilgmR1ar5pvz2lu9AR4qN534PHQGtbc-cDRGnqBCLKZtiAn3uI1SONlYlpf44hic7jH9g06pCHbhGCKb19 mq7oy_qYvOM2c7RDS-nhYL/s4000/Doom%20Bar.jpg)
Determined not to let my prejudices cloud my appreciation of what would almost certainly be my only pint of the afternoon, I placed my order, although not without first asking whether the Pride might be on. It wasn’t, but the landlady assured me the Doom Bar was fresh on. I paid for my pint, £4.70, and then sat myself down at a table overlooking the large open fireplace, to the right of the bar. The landlady was right about the beer being in good condition, but you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, and whilst my drink was refreshing, and definitely needed after a long walk, it was definitely lacking something, and a few more hops would have been a good start. Rather puzzlingly, it was served in a Courage glass, but that’s an aside really, as everything else about the Bell, ticked all the right boxes. A lively and attractive village local, in a picturesque location, that seemed to enjoy the support of the local community, and for a weary and thirsty traveller like me, a most welcome stop on my way back to the station.
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More... (https://baileysbeerblog.blogspot.com/2022/09/when-youre-dying-for-pint-but-doom-bar.html)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMXPmDAWnNnUFHoQMZ7y93FWsXhVwFmLrl_OcimcG6y fM7MwI3P1-cv0HjTH1G2x1a8GUdu3h9-lZ9Q_OA0VqkdN5jigdj5eo-37ayDDPj6t6A9bFPCfop_GRrbXu9llcVlaGpdji4keachyeuPj 5nzBITcKPmwGiNibRC9xUIlS7QXjMtfG1Lux7/w400-h225/IMG_20220917_152930.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMXPmDAWnNnUFHoQMZ7y93FWsXhVwFmLrl_OcimcG6y fM7MwI3P1-cv0HjTH1G2x1a8GUdu3h9-lZ9Q_OA0VqkdN5jigdj5eo-37ayDDPj6t6A9bFPCfop_GRrbXu9llcVlaGpdji4keachyeuPj 5nzBITcKPmwGiNibRC9xUIlS7QXjMtfG1Lux7/s4000/IMG_20220917_152930.jpg)
There are times when you just want a beer, regardless of what it is, or who brews if. You’ve been keeping yourself busy and working hard or, as in my case, been out for lengthy country walk in the autumn sunshine, along a stretch of the North Downs Way.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvDLkdhRFxfNo6ox4HXXVnkUf9xf62_07tFIAo88gSJ KIH4_ZhBIWzYt9KncUA4G3GopRRO-YMUZ_Iqf_23vOqrihxNsp2CuvocOloT_rq5bhchiMedA80ubRK LqmpLuuNUM2BQ2j8fJz8cdqg5A-oQpauHidS3QjfjWNy7XwNe7PKHy2AKjAhgtj/w400-h225/IMG_20220917_135627.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvDLkdhRFxfNo6ox4HXXVnkUf9xf62_07tFIAo88gSJ KIH4_ZhBIWzYt9KncUA4G3GopRRO-YMUZ_Iqf_23vOqrihxNsp2CuvocOloT_rq5bhchiMedA80ubRK LqmpLuuNUM2BQ2j8fJz8cdqg5A-oQpauHidS3QjfjWNy7XwNe7PKHy2AKjAhgtj/s4000/IMG_20220917_135627.jpg)
Three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon was such a time when, having walked from Shepherdswell station to Waldershare House, and then back to Shepherdswell village green, I was gagging for a pint. I was also in a hurry, because I had a train to catch, and as services back to Dover, and then home, were only hourly, time was of the essence.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBh1ICVjgr8T8C6QTg-xrgSvYZgZAzIdtwxJoextXyet8-Xghg2cQAq3NbSyymmJYg3WpVfMC1bwTKvBVs7NYsDPWWj8LZLh 0P0IR2K3uc-v5cdmNRKH8oYBlOg1UPtS6pMgn2AV1uNqW5TzWSMLg70Fe4QbH ktcBsqZPSXvTudbJb6tACXuQNqMp/w400-h230/Ornate%20seat.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBh1ICVjgr8T8C6QTg-xrgSvYZgZAzIdtwxJoextXyet8-Xghg2cQAq3NbSyymmJYg3WpVfMC1bwTKvBVs7NYsDPWWj8LZLh 0P0IR2K3uc-v5cdmNRKH8oYBlOg1UPtS6pMgn2AV1uNqW5TzWSMLg70Fe4QbH ktcBsqZPSXvTudbJb6tACXuQNqMp/s3611/Ornate%20seat.jpg)
For some reason, I was convinced there were no pubs remaining in Shepherdswell, an assumption that wasn’t entirely without foundation, thanks to What Pub. This normally reliable source has no pubs listed in the village, and it was only after a quick peep on my phone, when I stopped to eat my sandwiches, and take a much-needed break, that I discovered that What Pub isn’t always infallible.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qZlD7Ns3Xt1AQghJrVGD8FYjzo3ksO1VcLC40UL0Qw LWWJJEXVU5y-0oEOyw_Pwd3XczrO-bo583RkXqdgW4f28yyLGhpGawN_bfdx-_oUwb7TbC3C8sHaazjeKoUqbd9F4Fx096YZGrdN4rEf6uTs-jxE1BkSCX2GjSmATwjmyuDRBFR96kqixg/w400-h233/Bell%20Inn.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qZlD7Ns3Xt1AQghJrVGD8FYjzo3ksO1VcLC40UL0Qw LWWJJEXVU5y-0oEOyw_Pwd3XczrO-bo583RkXqdgW4f28yyLGhpGawN_bfdx-_oUwb7TbC3C8sHaazjeKoUqbd9F4Fx096YZGrdN4rEf6uTs-jxE1BkSCX2GjSmATwjmyuDRBFR96kqixg/s3812/Bell%20Inn.jpg)
The spot chosen for my lunchtime break was less than a mile away from the small settlement of Coldred, and for this reason I’d been checking on the Carpenter’s Arms - an unspoilt pub of some repute. I had only been to the Carpenter’s once before, and seeing as I was close by, it would have been remiss not to have made a return visit. Unfortunately, and as is often the wont with “unspoiled pubs,” the Carpenter’s has limited hours of trading and, even on a Saturday, doesn’t open its doors until 5pm.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nLXysls0PwRxfuLCYkYLAGK2I9QpYoSlwE4GB9p2Az 4amgih0L2LmBovXSIVlkqK2h-2T-treHfS-RDPI4aVUqFenTjTe6noRSFv59AOElp2kGPeBuOg-TMKOBvkgpkqDTLjFKszQnOgoAdRpTOVU_sDv78SsYjSfDQMHUM mmd9Qqet42WneNnWK/w400-h216/Bell%20Inn%20-%20green.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nLXysls0PwRxfuLCYkYLAGK2I9QpYoSlwE4GB9p2Az 4amgih0L2LmBovXSIVlkqK2h-2T-treHfS-RDPI4aVUqFenTjTe6noRSFv59AOElp2kGPeBuOg-TMKOBvkgpkqDTLjFKszQnOgoAdRpTOVU_sDv78SsYjSfDQMHUM mmd9Qqet42WneNnWK/s3661/Bell%20Inn%20-%20green.jpg)
It was then that I came across the Bell Inn, also listed under Coldred, although a glance at the map indicates the pub is well and truly in Shepherdswell, which is a much larger settlement. So, the village wasn’t pub-less after all, but what on earth is What Pub playing at, and why hasn’t the local CAMRA branch corrected this obvious error?
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BtLZEiX1YvRdc1rZM3efzQQ83BYraPbL51bLIWxf58 alSlR_hAHADdyAcUgFsCRrvR9UljjsaE6zKu9fFRNfiaoBvMc9 L41UsIge6En_m85Kb8Mzzgusy249fNmJeNunYbvn0NlaKtY_yD 2NCvwYkE13yDAQN6Ab6vO5dPW2GNTw2ru833jpY70_/w400-h213/Shepherdswell%20station.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BtLZEiX1YvRdc1rZM3efzQQ83BYraPbL51bLIWxf58 alSlR_hAHADdyAcUgFsCRrvR9UljjsaE6zKu9fFRNfiaoBvMc9 L41UsIge6En_m85Kb8Mzzgusy249fNmJeNunYbvn0NlaKtY_yD 2NCvwYkE13yDAQN6Ab6vO5dPW2GNTw2ru833jpY70_/s3752/Shepherdswell%20station.jpg)
The next question was where exactly was the pub, and would I be able to locate it on my way back to Shepherdswell station? What Pub has the Bell located in Church Hill, overlooking the green so the presence of a church was the obvious clue as to its whereabouts, but it wasn’t that obvious. This was because on my outward journey from the station, I had followed the route of the NDW, but once back in the village I’d be able to return along the road, which was shorter and more direct.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_b6xG4hKkJAosK8YydsIw0UTSC4tQeUMJQ-fi5ZN0dYBSVMqxpUOIGccp_N6AbokMvkzXePNXgkxKSh9KybUs gbKK4-jiAVggDAQpdSBd8_YpKCZC3Kft2HmS6Zh8UkOcLtudhX_rtsH2 Z0bh2hfieJPYTwX-tVN4xzigq_bHdsSWNU5VtobCV33_/w400-h225/IMG_20220917_151511.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_b6xG4hKkJAosK8YydsIw0UTSC4tQeUMJQ-fi5ZN0dYBSVMqxpUOIGccp_N6AbokMvkzXePNXgkxKSh9KybUs gbKK4-jiAVggDAQpdSBd8_YpKCZC3Kft2HmS6Zh8UkOcLtudhX_rtsH2 Z0bh2hfieJPYTwX-tVN4xzigq_bHdsSWNU5VtobCV33_/s4000/IMG_20220917_151511.jpg)
I noticed the church, as I emerged from the footpath, so stopped to ask a couple, out walking their dog, as to the whereabouts of the Bell. Just there, across the green, was the reply, and turning to my left I could indeed see the Bell Inn, a charming, flint building, on the opposite side. I thanked this couple, and hurriedly made my way across the green, as hinted at previously, I was dying for a pint.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbt3dLvzhUQB92H9XNQol_NHtmoUcHP56wQBr878rjP4 KGTRc7YFLi9LnUXc1uWWWDYxboN-Ugo8lrLbnsvUyS9QkAdZoYdgIqMFUGETjHohDwxZYcgXL15aVY OD-Ioj_OW1h0Mu6sk5xlCnkty9SvjAPauatGP-e5EIjTax05oTilx2_V_oBZAlhF/w400-h234/Bell%20Fireplace.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbt3dLvzhUQB92H9XNQol_NHtmoUcHP56wQBr878rjP4 KGTRc7YFLi9LnUXc1uWWWDYxboN-Ugo8lrLbnsvUyS9QkAdZoYdgIqMFUGETjHohDwxZYcgXL15aVY OD-Ioj_OW1h0Mu6sk5xlCnkty9SvjAPauatGP-e5EIjTax05oTilx2_V_oBZAlhF/s3847/Bell%20Fireplace.jpg)
I made my way inside, and found a small group of mainly male drinkers, gathered in front of the bar. I quickly looked back and forth along the counter, disappointed that Doom Bar appeared o be the sole cask offering. It looked as if London Pride had also been on sale, but with the pump clip turned around, it would have to be "Cornwall’s finest." Actually, that should read Burton’s finest, because for many years now, Sharp’s brewery, in Rock Cornwall, has not possessed the capacity necessary to turn out the volumes associated with Britain’s best-selling cask ale. This position goes hand in glove with the acquisition of Sharp’s, by global giant, Molson Coors, who turned Doom Bar into the national brand it is today, but in doing so the new owners invariably cut corners and dumbed what had once been a characterful and enjoyable beer into blandness personified.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYewlgRLXZgY9_QsV0poO0BPhe9egeia6qQlqDHWx5U H447YRJS9a4FpX385bAQHa--ygN_wAhubF8HslilgmR1ar5pvz2lu9AR4qN534PHQGtbc-cDRGnqBCLKZtiAn3uI1SONlYlpf44hic7jH9g06pCHbhGCKb19 mq7oy_qYvOM2c7RDS-nhYL/w300-h400/Doom%20Bar.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYewlgRLXZgY9_QsV0poO0BPhe9egeia6qQlqDHWx5U H447YRJS9a4FpX385bAQHa--ygN_wAhubF8HslilgmR1ar5pvz2lu9AR4qN534PHQGtbc-cDRGnqBCLKZtiAn3uI1SONlYlpf44hic7jH9g06pCHbhGCKb19 mq7oy_qYvOM2c7RDS-nhYL/s4000/Doom%20Bar.jpg)
Determined not to let my prejudices cloud my appreciation of what would almost certainly be my only pint of the afternoon, I placed my order, although not without first asking whether the Pride might be on. It wasn’t, but the landlady assured me the Doom Bar was fresh on. I paid for my pint, £4.70, and then sat myself down at a table overlooking the large open fireplace, to the right of the bar. The landlady was right about the beer being in good condition, but you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, and whilst my drink was refreshing, and definitely needed after a long walk, it was definitely lacking something, and a few more hops would have been a good start. Rather puzzlingly, it was served in a Courage glass, but that’s an aside really, as everything else about the Bell, ticked all the right boxes. A lively and attractive village local, in a picturesque location, that seemed to enjoy the support of the local community, and for a weary and thirsty traveller like me, a most welcome stop on my way back to the station.
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