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07-05-2024, 21:30
Visit the Paul Bailey's Beer Blog site (https://baileysbeerblog.blogspot.com/2024/05/my-locals-over-years.html)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6dP1cjctBDiWHJugyCUnGg5-_uHi8_sgS5ZMqQZ4IMXIsi_DZ8LLdY-6ErIAW3ksVxQs5q_gJAYBKwkVTL3GSLA8XEBwDaoQhQfrzhbTS jyxPjL-NxBV7PvhPX3sIhQkJKfQbiqnJFAbr3cA5DVxa4D8kr4YbovLRP odwgnXtIXjkw5EzAYkHTqzgm4U/w258-h400/The%20local.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6dP1cjctBDiWHJugyCUnGg5-_uHi8_sgS5ZMqQZ4IMXIsi_DZ8LLdY-6ErIAW3ksVxQs5q_gJAYBKwkVTL3GSLA8XEBwDaoQhQfrzhbTS jyxPjL-NxBV7PvhPX3sIhQkJKfQbiqnJFAbr3cA5DVxa4D8kr4YbovLRP odwgnXtIXjkw5EzAYkHTqzgm4U/s1000/The%20local.jpg)
Back in February I reviewed one of the best books I haveread about pubs, for a long, long time. This followed The Local – A History of the English Pub, researched and written by historian Paul Jennings, findingits way into my Christmas stocking. Author, Paul Jennings isa history tutor at the University of Bradford, and his bookdeservesto be recognised as one of the best, and most accurate volumes on the uniqueinstitution that is the English Pub. Rather than repeat what I wrote just a few months ago, (https://baileysbeerblog.blogspot.com/2024/02/a-couple-more-books-at-bedtime.html) I will refer you back to that review, so you can make your ownminds up on the claims I have made above.I also strongly recommend you buy a copy, especially if you likeand care about pubs, but the real reason for my referring back to a post thatis barely 12 weeks old, is to ask the question what actually constitutes alocal? This is particularly poignant as we approach the end of the firstquarter of the 21st century.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjofhhf984QRmVNHY-nvQXDilU1xWyxm_Dc92USNs5UZ_otVzE60KmzBr3m7YkK0Br5z RhzIPcJvP9dTw45PFObABcSfgKsyq_PJyNoh3WzVSgPrnbMxkW U56kLIFuqBmKCkSDeMv6FsQvvOVJ_XJOMzpRhE64L0K1U5oiJ-yfu0kxp7nWHyoc1G4NEk/w251-h400/The%20local%20alternative.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjofhhf984QRmVNHY-nvQXDilU1xWyxm_Dc92USNs5UZ_otVzE60KmzBr3m7YkK0Br5z RhzIPcJvP9dTw45PFObABcSfgKsyq_PJyNoh3WzVSgPrnbMxkW U56kLIFuqBmKCkSDeMv6FsQvvOVJ_XJOMzpRhE64L0K1U5oiJ-yfu0kxp7nWHyoc1G4NEk/s1500/The%20local%20alternative.jpg)
So, what exactly makes it pub a local in these changingtimes and what is it about such places that make us feel comfortable, at ease andalmost at home there. In fact, that analogy with home it's very appropriate,because away from the confines of our own houses and dwelling places, the localpub I still for many people, home from home. A second home if you like.The trouble is that after half a century of thumbing my waythrough umpteen pub guides and having personal experience of a least a dozen pubs which I wasconfident enough to describe as my local, I still don't know the answer, to thatquestion. In addtion, despite all the research, learned papers and umpteen wordswritten on the subject, I don't think historian and author Paul Jennings doeseither.
What I'm going to do now is describe some of the many andvaried pubs which, over the years, ended up becoming my local. Some mightsurprise you, whilst others might not but after I've introduced you today'sdoesn't have so pubs and told you what about them actually appealed to me, I'mgoing to end up explaining why, in 2024, I don't have a local. More to thepoint I haven't had one for many years although I do have a small number of pubs,where I prefer to spend my time and hard and cash.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ48BqK5NahY7k3yWDMPOJZem8kW5Yy4uQky1DgNItx-yCaeyhywvXPz0_g0e6Ep-SoZDAiH5POqEoQtJfbbAGU78mRhhcdb7KHFPkvCXMe80tenLSf 023HxJEWMCYdWd_slZbCanDfD8zz881Ft9obr5tYmKUEawDMie-Vser6lCaRv5zyfkyv2c0gWk/w400-h268/The_Honest_Miller,_Brook_-_geograph.org.uk_-_4272381.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ48BqK5NahY7k3yWDMPOJZem8kW5Yy4uQky1DgNItx-yCaeyhywvXPz0_g0e6Ep-SoZDAiH5POqEoQtJfbbAGU78mRhhcdb7KHFPkvCXMe80tenLSf 023HxJEWMCYdWd_slZbCanDfD8zz881Ft9obr5tYmKUEawDMie-Vser6lCaRv5zyfkyv2c0gWk/s640/The_Honest_Miller,_Brook_-_geograph.org.uk_-_4272381.jpg)
The Honest Miller, Brook by Robin Webster, CC BY-SA 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons
My first true “local” was the Honest Miller, situated in thesmall village of Brook to theeast of Ashford, which nestles at the foot of the North Downs, overlooking the gap made through these hills by the riverStour. I spent my teenage years living in the village, and both settlement andpub, still retain fond memories for me. The Honest Miller was a handsome,typically white-painted Kentish building with a weather boarded upper half,topped with a peg-tiled roof. It dated back to the reign of Queen Anne,although exactly when it became an alehouse is uncertain. Up until the late1960's it served ales brewed at the Mackeson's Brewery in Hythe, but when Ifirst started drinking there the beer was brewed by Whitbread Fremlin’s,initially at Maidstone, and latterly at Faversham.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6KFDK5w1alDqM679kMstQESS2i2Oq9pGtB-8b75kIMRRezFH703dBbQZfqCda929zqAnJ5VevqcBwNWUNPScu UVucT1ga9cb84A1UaiZ4c0Td1BTLMVP6xY7pUQV5DzCr-qsdDjKy0EIyipZhDib-z21gEJkCgOKnKSgy8EFwfK62e3Rm5zYxjQbdT8/w400-h249/Salford%20Uni%20sign.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6KFDK5w1alDqM679kMstQESS2i2Oq9pGtB-8b75kIMRRezFH703dBbQZfqCda929zqAnJ5VevqcBwNWUNPScu UVucT1ga9cb84A1UaiZ4c0Td1BTLMVP6xY7pUQV5DzCr-qsdDjKy0EIyipZhDib-z21gEJkCgOKnKSgy8EFwfK62e3Rm5zYxjQbdT8/s2434/Salford%20Uni%20sign.jpg)
Now that’s all I’m going to say about the pub for the timebeing, as the Honest Miller, which is currently closed, is worthy of a post ofits own. So, moving swiftly on, I left both the village and my family home in theautumn of 1973, after obtaining a place at the University Salford, to study for an honours degree inBiology. Moving from a small village to live in a big city (Manchester) wassomething of a culture shock and, for a while, left me rather homesick. As wellas missing family and friends, I missed the evenings in the Honest Miller, andit was to be quite some time before I found a pub with the same appeal.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkU666ey1FIy6awxo9sfAmnoptcQD3w35YJtSXXEyLt2 IiI-tzfhXR5il3pReDTy-4H_QZbQRVrTxw27TFYCFmuBFxnzo0SIC9yTzzHH0hGr18SiEW5 waXqKAqbQIXhuoksFFl875uPRsy5aoJ7Lap3C2CvS8-2PbFLz_caRuRkllQvQp3VE4CW9udyP0/w400-h225/Salford%20maxwell.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkU666ey1FIy6awxo9sfAmnoptcQD3w35YJtSXXEyLt2 IiI-tzfhXR5il3pReDTy-4H_QZbQRVrTxw27TFYCFmuBFxnzo0SIC9yTzzHH0hGr18SiEW5 waXqKAqbQIXhuoksFFl875uPRsy5aoJ7Lap3C2CvS8-2PbFLz_caRuRkllQvQp3VE4CW9udyP0/s4000/Salford%20maxwell.jpg)
I’d ended up at Salford, thanks to UCCA (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Universities_Central_Council_on_Admissions) clearing, havingfailed to obtain the requisite grades at A level, and arriving late, struggledto find suitable student accommodation close to the university. I ended up spendingthe first term living with my aunt and her family in the town of Romiley, a fewmiles outside of Stockport. The next two terms were spent in lodgings – “digs” as theyused to call them, close to the town of Eccles. It wasn’t until the start of mysecond year at Salford that things became more settled, and I obtained a roomat the university halls of residence. These were located a couple of miles fromthe university campus, on high ground overlooking the river Irwell. They weremodern, bright, and all inclusive, but most of all they were warm, unlike myprevious dwelling place on the edge of Eccles.Although there was a large Boddington’s house called the KersalHotel, almost opposite the residences, it wasn't particularly welcoming tostudents. This was evidenced by its "male only" Vault (public bar). Instead, togetherwith a student friend, who lived nearby, I started going to the Star Inn (https://staronthecliff.co.uk/), asmall back street Robinson’s pub, about 30 minutes’ walk away. Despite its size,the Star still had two bars and we would normally frequent the lounge, which wasthe larger of these. Somewhat unusuallyfor a Robinson’s pub back then, the cask beer was dispensed by hand pull,rather than the more usual electric pumps.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4Zzdgp3OxTo4DLHAm80KZBgWTsXGWpgYVny0wskt6T 2YL-eN-QxFmXAZsdp0c22AwpbdZc4H2tNqEY6q_nCk1XNO8NaVokXHBOK nJbTI8CIueH0s04-b35IiTJhU4ZyJNHctSirrJsz5PgMnP-64VCS-pu_AYkD5uTqh2kw-hxYTGm9qRWzIFyeZ_TQ/w400-h300/MAN-10002-22789-star-inn-higher-broughton.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4Zzdgp3OxTo4DLHAm80KZBgWTsXGWpgYVny0wskt6T 2YL-eN-QxFmXAZsdp0c22AwpbdZc4H2tNqEY6q_nCk1XNO8NaVokXHBOK nJbTI8CIueH0s04-b35IiTJhU4ZyJNHctSirrJsz5PgMnP-64VCS-pu_AYkD5uTqh2kw-hxYTGm9qRWzIFyeZ_TQ/s800/MAN-10002-22789-star-inn-higher-broughton.jpg)
The Star was popular with students and was also home to a folkclub. My friend Nick and I spent many evenings there, enjoying the excellentRobinson’s beer whilst soaking up the atmosphere of this tucked-away, back streetlocal. Following my graduation, I moved to a rented house overlooking Salford’sAlbert Park, which I shared with my then girlfriend who later became the firstMrs Bailey. The Star continued to be our local, until we had to leave the propertya year later, following her own graduation. This was because our landlord had a contract withSalford Uni, that restricted him to let the property only to students registeredthere.After several weeks of searching, we found a two-bedroom flatabove a butcher’s shop, in Romiley, of all places. So, somewhat ironically the town that providedmy first place to stay in Greater Manchester, turned out to be my last, after mythen wife secured a well-paid, permanent post in London. That was severalmonths down the line, so in between we enjoyed six months living in thispleasant north Cheshire town, with the foothills of the Pennines a short trainride away, and the picturesque Peak Forest Canal even closer.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKl4-bNPoUfOh6rO9O46sDcMxfnI9QXHhrKKB8o31k7A1oEPtKSEsPI AXX4G6I1Fr3scPWmDl9_rrXcS11xFBf376cgJNe-_nRxIs7a3I-wngAkaCTrQIB1_E45J9HSwI1GW214QVExorEHCo5m-vMW2LobSlLs4gQIPsSt8_jU46VVLwbHQ2JbP5I98/w400-h217/Friendship%20Inn.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKl4-bNPoUfOh6rO9O46sDcMxfnI9QXHhrKKB8o31k7A1oEPtKSEsPI AXX4G6I1Fr3scPWmDl9_rrXcS11xFBf376cgJNe-_nRxIs7a3I-wngAkaCTrQIB1_E45J9HSwI1GW214QVExorEHCo5m-vMW2LobSlLs4gQIPsSt8_jU46VVLwbHQ2JbP5I98/s1345/Friendship%20Inn.jpg)
When we first moved to Romiley, we tried out a number of thelocal pubs, before settling on the Friendship Inn (https://www.robinsonsbrewery.com/pubs/the-friendship-romiley/) about 15 minutes’ walk from theflat we were renting. This white-painted, and attractive-looking pub was anotherRobinson’s house, sited on the main road through the town. It certainly livedup to its name and provided a welcoming and warm refuge, particularly duringthe winter months when our flat, which was electrically heated only, resembledan ice box. The licensees and their staff went out of their way to make us feelwelcome, so it was quite a wrench when we had to say goodbye to yet another local.If Greater Manchester had been difficult to findaccommodation, the capital proved doubly so, and although my wife moved down tothe "Smoke" first – to start her new job and also look for somewhere to live, Iended up joining her at her parent’s property in Earlsfield. Eventually we strucklucky and moved into an apartment, occupying the upstairs floor of a large,1930’s semi-detached property in Norbury (between Croydon and Streatham).
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFm1_HULecdDBRCAn_rY6pN7mKudmFRfl9JMdPKLxiP piwi2Dt_yuVO5p8fxWS0bLE5lAX6ozTZBbJ4UGW_z6YBkNWU4V aWpdYG2aWWB7VTEcuAXT7BEsyn0k3dzKjVtATbWZw432qmHUai 3gvMfGYJRPxcAjxBmsIaGA8r9Kge_cREMQcgERZ9-F-NM/w400-h300/SWL-3965-149042-bull-streatham.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFm1_HULecdDBRCAn_rY6pN7mKudmFRfl9JMdPKLxiP piwi2Dt_yuVO5p8fxWS0bLE5lAX6ozTZBbJ4UGW_z6YBkNWU4V aWpdYG2aWWB7VTEcuAXT7BEsyn0k3dzKjVtATbWZw432qmHUai 3gvMfGYJRPxcAjxBmsIaGA8r9Kge_cREMQcgERZ9-F-NM/s800/SWL-3965-149042-bull-streatham.jpg)
1930’s suburbia, has never been that well endowed with publichouses, and whilst there was a large, Whitbread house close by, it was a kegonly place. Further afield, and well worth the walk, was the Pied Bull (https://www.thebullstreatham.co.uk/), onStreatham High Road, overlooking the common of the same name. This large, sprawling,landmark Victorian pub belonged to Young’s Brewery, but whilst the beer wasvery good (as Young’s always was before the closure of the Wandsworth Brewery),the place was too large and impersonal to have the feel of a proper local. Despitethis, the Pied Bull was still worthy of a visit. Today, the pub is just called theBull, the "Pied" part of the name having been dropped, for reasons unknown.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbQqLHXyo1ZnmjSGIU36gQJNIn6WICHvEA2k32o_WG-43eV0sVFRXCcyATbayYrgR_8IgfbxZd6KbBQjxkZIHvz2Z1ND_ GK0KoRE7zGo75PEXbOpQaAa5029mySBN63jnODUnYK-38BcivA0Zdhohk73rxIW_CEdRoxqeIJ8QEC93gPvc359tl5Rlc Hw/w400-h263/Grecian%20Street.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbQqLHXyo1ZnmjSGIU36gQJNIn6WICHvEA2k32o_WG-43eV0sVFRXCcyATbayYrgR_8IgfbxZd6KbBQjxkZIHvz2Z1ND_ GK0KoRE7zGo75PEXbOpQaAa5029mySBN63jnODUnYK-38BcivA0Zdhohk73rxIW_CEdRoxqeIJ8QEC93gPvc359tl5Rlc Hw/s3005/Grecian%20Street.jpg)
We only spent a couple of years in Norbury, as at the end ofthe 70’s our aspirations to get on the property ladder, came to fruition.Despite the previous Mrs Bailey earning a good salary, and me an acceptable one,we were still unable to afford a property in south east London, or indeedanywhere in the capital, so after looking at locations where house prices werecheaper, but still within easy commuting distance of London, we purchased a two-up,two-down Victorian terraced property in Maidstone. The house needed a lot ofwork to bring it up to modern standards, including a proper kitchen and modernbathroom. The necessary improvement work took a couple of years to finance andexpedite, but in the meantime, there was plenty of opportunity to explore ournew surroundings.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24DcoWgsYszsoCfc7C6NXU_jQrHbDn25HA2d_brJmU3 BRHOYnvx4tSCUR0nEfWj-uTNpXlJVM6mF99huxT9HhC4EFGKZLlUp6I75SrUaNYk-aLICEGeH1VfnQu5S-j56-p86_-pG-w2SEplBxSl167oXQjiowirZ8yzDryLvUS7MZxZtYpt6GJUhof9 M/w400-h217/Dog%20&%20Gun.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg24DcoWgsYszsoCfc7C6NXU_jQrHbDn25HA2d_brJmU3 BRHOYnvx4tSCUR0nEfWj-uTNpXlJVM6mF99huxT9HhC4EFGKZLlUp6I75SrUaNYk-aLICEGeH1VfnQu5S-j56-p86_-pG-w2SEplBxSl167oXQjiowirZ8yzDryLvUS7MZxZtYpt6GJUhof9 M/s3611/Dog%20&%20Gun.jpg)
At the end of our street, and on the opposite corner, was theDog & Gun, and imposing, red-brick two-bar local owned by Shepherd Neame.With its small and cosy lounge, plus larger and more brash public bar, the Dog& Gun quickly became our local, and we were in there most evenings.Shepherd Neame beers were much better back then, and very drinkable, whichmakes me wonder what on earth the brewery did to them. Shep’s also produced acask mild, in the 70’s, and that too was well worth drinking.
Apart from selling good beer, the Dog & Gun had anotherclaim to fame in that Barry, the pub landlord, had been a member of early 70’spop group, Chicory Tip. The band were one of the first acts to use a synthesizer, which featured heavily on their hit, Son of my Father, and thestory was that Barry’s father had financed the group and their equipment. Inwitness to Chicory Tip’s success, Barry’s Gold Disc for SOMF, was displayed prominentlyon the saloon bar wall. Inexplicably, the Dog & Gun is no longer trading, but you can get some idea what it was like, from the photo, above.
It's probably best to stop the narrative at this point, andcontinue another time, as six years later, I moved again, to a new town, and anew wife as well. I also need to explain the lack of contemporary photos, as withno Smartphones, and digital cameras still in their infancy, people just didn’ttake photos with the frequency we do now.
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More... (https://baileysbeerblog.blogspot.com/2024/05/my-locals-over-years.html)
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6dP1cjctBDiWHJugyCUnGg5-_uHi8_sgS5ZMqQZ4IMXIsi_DZ8LLdY-6ErIAW3ksVxQs5q_gJAYBKwkVTL3GSLA8XEBwDaoQhQfrzhbTS jyxPjL-NxBV7PvhPX3sIhQkJKfQbiqnJFAbr3cA5DVxa4D8kr4YbovLRP odwgnXtIXjkw5EzAYkHTqzgm4U/w258-h400/The%20local.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6dP1cjctBDiWHJugyCUnGg5-_uHi8_sgS5ZMqQZ4IMXIsi_DZ8LLdY-6ErIAW3ksVxQs5q_gJAYBKwkVTL3GSLA8XEBwDaoQhQfrzhbTS jyxPjL-NxBV7PvhPX3sIhQkJKfQbiqnJFAbr3cA5DVxa4D8kr4YbovLRP odwgnXtIXjkw5EzAYkHTqzgm4U/s1000/The%20local.jpg)
Back in February I reviewed one of the best books I haveread about pubs, for a long, long time. This followed The Local – A History of the English Pub, researched and written by historian Paul Jennings, findingits way into my Christmas stocking. Author, Paul Jennings isa history tutor at the University of Bradford, and his bookdeservesto be recognised as one of the best, and most accurate volumes on the uniqueinstitution that is the English Pub. Rather than repeat what I wrote just a few months ago, (https://baileysbeerblog.blogspot.com/2024/02/a-couple-more-books-at-bedtime.html) I will refer you back to that review, so you can make your ownminds up on the claims I have made above.I also strongly recommend you buy a copy, especially if you likeand care about pubs, but the real reason for my referring back to a post thatis barely 12 weeks old, is to ask the question what actually constitutes alocal? This is particularly poignant as we approach the end of the firstquarter of the 21st century.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjofhhf984QRmVNHY-nvQXDilU1xWyxm_Dc92USNs5UZ_otVzE60KmzBr3m7YkK0Br5z RhzIPcJvP9dTw45PFObABcSfgKsyq_PJyNoh3WzVSgPrnbMxkW U56kLIFuqBmKCkSDeMv6FsQvvOVJ_XJOMzpRhE64L0K1U5oiJ-yfu0kxp7nWHyoc1G4NEk/w251-h400/The%20local%20alternative.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjofhhf984QRmVNHY-nvQXDilU1xWyxm_Dc92USNs5UZ_otVzE60KmzBr3m7YkK0Br5z RhzIPcJvP9dTw45PFObABcSfgKsyq_PJyNoh3WzVSgPrnbMxkW U56kLIFuqBmKCkSDeMv6FsQvvOVJ_XJOMzpRhE64L0K1U5oiJ-yfu0kxp7nWHyoc1G4NEk/s1500/The%20local%20alternative.jpg)
So, what exactly makes it pub a local in these changingtimes and what is it about such places that make us feel comfortable, at ease andalmost at home there. In fact, that analogy with home it's very appropriate,because away from the confines of our own houses and dwelling places, the localpub I still for many people, home from home. A second home if you like.The trouble is that after half a century of thumbing my waythrough umpteen pub guides and having personal experience of a least a dozen pubs which I wasconfident enough to describe as my local, I still don't know the answer, to thatquestion. In addtion, despite all the research, learned papers and umpteen wordswritten on the subject, I don't think historian and author Paul Jennings doeseither.
What I'm going to do now is describe some of the many andvaried pubs which, over the years, ended up becoming my local. Some mightsurprise you, whilst others might not but after I've introduced you today'sdoesn't have so pubs and told you what about them actually appealed to me, I'mgoing to end up explaining why, in 2024, I don't have a local. More to thepoint I haven't had one for many years although I do have a small number of pubs,where I prefer to spend my time and hard and cash.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ48BqK5NahY7k3yWDMPOJZem8kW5Yy4uQky1DgNItx-yCaeyhywvXPz0_g0e6Ep-SoZDAiH5POqEoQtJfbbAGU78mRhhcdb7KHFPkvCXMe80tenLSf 023HxJEWMCYdWd_slZbCanDfD8zz881Ft9obr5tYmKUEawDMie-Vser6lCaRv5zyfkyv2c0gWk/w400-h268/The_Honest_Miller,_Brook_-_geograph.org.uk_-_4272381.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ48BqK5NahY7k3yWDMPOJZem8kW5Yy4uQky1DgNItx-yCaeyhywvXPz0_g0e6Ep-SoZDAiH5POqEoQtJfbbAGU78mRhhcdb7KHFPkvCXMe80tenLSf 023HxJEWMCYdWd_slZbCanDfD8zz881Ft9obr5tYmKUEawDMie-Vser6lCaRv5zyfkyv2c0gWk/s640/The_Honest_Miller,_Brook_-_geograph.org.uk_-_4272381.jpg)
The Honest Miller, Brook by Robin Webster, CC BY-SA 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons
My first true “local” was the Honest Miller, situated in thesmall village of Brook to theeast of Ashford, which nestles at the foot of the North Downs, overlooking the gap made through these hills by the riverStour. I spent my teenage years living in the village, and both settlement andpub, still retain fond memories for me. The Honest Miller was a handsome,typically white-painted Kentish building with a weather boarded upper half,topped with a peg-tiled roof. It dated back to the reign of Queen Anne,although exactly when it became an alehouse is uncertain. Up until the late1960's it served ales brewed at the Mackeson's Brewery in Hythe, but when Ifirst started drinking there the beer was brewed by Whitbread Fremlin’s,initially at Maidstone, and latterly at Faversham.
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Now that’s all I’m going to say about the pub for the timebeing, as the Honest Miller, which is currently closed, is worthy of a post ofits own. So, moving swiftly on, I left both the village and my family home in theautumn of 1973, after obtaining a place at the University Salford, to study for an honours degree inBiology. Moving from a small village to live in a big city (Manchester) wassomething of a culture shock and, for a while, left me rather homesick. As wellas missing family and friends, I missed the evenings in the Honest Miller, andit was to be quite some time before I found a pub with the same appeal.
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I’d ended up at Salford, thanks to UCCA (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Universities_Central_Council_on_Admissions) clearing, havingfailed to obtain the requisite grades at A level, and arriving late, struggledto find suitable student accommodation close to the university. I ended up spendingthe first term living with my aunt and her family in the town of Romiley, a fewmiles outside of Stockport. The next two terms were spent in lodgings – “digs” as theyused to call them, close to the town of Eccles. It wasn’t until the start of mysecond year at Salford that things became more settled, and I obtained a roomat the university halls of residence. These were located a couple of miles fromthe university campus, on high ground overlooking the river Irwell. They weremodern, bright, and all inclusive, but most of all they were warm, unlike myprevious dwelling place on the edge of Eccles.Although there was a large Boddington’s house called the KersalHotel, almost opposite the residences, it wasn't particularly welcoming tostudents. This was evidenced by its "male only" Vault (public bar). Instead, togetherwith a student friend, who lived nearby, I started going to the Star Inn (https://staronthecliff.co.uk/), asmall back street Robinson’s pub, about 30 minutes’ walk away. Despite its size,the Star still had two bars and we would normally frequent the lounge, which wasthe larger of these. Somewhat unusuallyfor a Robinson’s pub back then, the cask beer was dispensed by hand pull,rather than the more usual electric pumps.
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The Star was popular with students and was also home to a folkclub. My friend Nick and I spent many evenings there, enjoying the excellentRobinson’s beer whilst soaking up the atmosphere of this tucked-away, back streetlocal. Following my graduation, I moved to a rented house overlooking Salford’sAlbert Park, which I shared with my then girlfriend who later became the firstMrs Bailey. The Star continued to be our local, until we had to leave the propertya year later, following her own graduation. This was because our landlord had a contract withSalford Uni, that restricted him to let the property only to students registeredthere.After several weeks of searching, we found a two-bedroom flatabove a butcher’s shop, in Romiley, of all places. So, somewhat ironically the town that providedmy first place to stay in Greater Manchester, turned out to be my last, after mythen wife secured a well-paid, permanent post in London. That was severalmonths down the line, so in between we enjoyed six months living in thispleasant north Cheshire town, with the foothills of the Pennines a short trainride away, and the picturesque Peak Forest Canal even closer.
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When we first moved to Romiley, we tried out a number of thelocal pubs, before settling on the Friendship Inn (https://www.robinsonsbrewery.com/pubs/the-friendship-romiley/) about 15 minutes’ walk from theflat we were renting. This white-painted, and attractive-looking pub was anotherRobinson’s house, sited on the main road through the town. It certainly livedup to its name and provided a welcoming and warm refuge, particularly duringthe winter months when our flat, which was electrically heated only, resembledan ice box. The licensees and their staff went out of their way to make us feelwelcome, so it was quite a wrench when we had to say goodbye to yet another local.If Greater Manchester had been difficult to findaccommodation, the capital proved doubly so, and although my wife moved down tothe "Smoke" first – to start her new job and also look for somewhere to live, Iended up joining her at her parent’s property in Earlsfield. Eventually we strucklucky and moved into an apartment, occupying the upstairs floor of a large,1930’s semi-detached property in Norbury (between Croydon and Streatham).
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1930’s suburbia, has never been that well endowed with publichouses, and whilst there was a large, Whitbread house close by, it was a kegonly place. Further afield, and well worth the walk, was the Pied Bull (https://www.thebullstreatham.co.uk/), onStreatham High Road, overlooking the common of the same name. This large, sprawling,landmark Victorian pub belonged to Young’s Brewery, but whilst the beer wasvery good (as Young’s always was before the closure of the Wandsworth Brewery),the place was too large and impersonal to have the feel of a proper local. Despitethis, the Pied Bull was still worthy of a visit. Today, the pub is just called theBull, the "Pied" part of the name having been dropped, for reasons unknown.
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We only spent a couple of years in Norbury, as at the end ofthe 70’s our aspirations to get on the property ladder, came to fruition.Despite the previous Mrs Bailey earning a good salary, and me an acceptable one,we were still unable to afford a property in south east London, or indeedanywhere in the capital, so after looking at locations where house prices werecheaper, but still within easy commuting distance of London, we purchased a two-up,two-down Victorian terraced property in Maidstone. The house needed a lot ofwork to bring it up to modern standards, including a proper kitchen and modernbathroom. The necessary improvement work took a couple of years to finance andexpedite, but in the meantime, there was plenty of opportunity to explore ournew surroundings.
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At the end of our street, and on the opposite corner, was theDog & Gun, and imposing, red-brick two-bar local owned by Shepherd Neame.With its small and cosy lounge, plus larger and more brash public bar, the Dog& Gun quickly became our local, and we were in there most evenings.Shepherd Neame beers were much better back then, and very drinkable, whichmakes me wonder what on earth the brewery did to them. Shep’s also produced acask mild, in the 70’s, and that too was well worth drinking.
Apart from selling good beer, the Dog & Gun had anotherclaim to fame in that Barry, the pub landlord, had been a member of early 70’spop group, Chicory Tip. The band were one of the first acts to use a synthesizer, which featured heavily on their hit, Son of my Father, and thestory was that Barry’s father had financed the group and their equipment. Inwitness to Chicory Tip’s success, Barry’s Gold Disc for SOMF, was displayed prominentlyon the saloon bar wall. Inexplicably, the Dog & Gun is no longer trading, but you can get some idea what it was like, from the photo, above.
It's probably best to stop the narrative at this point, andcontinue another time, as six years later, I moved again, to a new town, and anew wife as well. I also need to explain the lack of contemporary photos, as withno Smartphones, and digital cameras still in their infancy, people just didn’ttake photos with the frequency we do now.
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