Category: pubs

pubs

Cycling and drinking across Dartmoor

Post author By Jess
Post date 12th September 2024
4 Comments on Cycling and drinking across Dartmoor

The Big Bike Ride is becoming an annual tradition for me – a 3 to 4 day cycle trip on my own, because Ray can’t ride a bike.

This year I did most of the Devon Coast to Coast, which I can heartily recommend, from Barnstaple to Plymouth.

Personally, I don’t ever drink and cycle, even if it’s just a half and I’m on a traffic-free route.

I really notice the drop in cognitive ability and I don’t feel comfortable being less than 100% in control of myself.

However, the itinerary I planned left plenty of time for visiting pubs in the evenings, and everything mentioned in this post was by way of a post-cycling reward and refreshment.

My first observation, based on the seven pubs I visited, was that the Devon preference for brown bitters continues.

All the pubs I visited had an ale selection, most of which were the likes of Dartmoor Best, or similar beers from less-established local breweries.

Nice enough, I suppose, especially if you’re one of those people who thinks “you can’t get bitter anywhere these days”.

But it seems a pity that my standout beer of the weekend was St Austell Proper Job from Cornwall.

A related observation: St Austell is saturating ever more of Devon and seems to have brought the quality control with them. I had Proper Job in three pubs and it was excellent every time.

It was also really interesting being in Devon and observing hospitality businesses at the changeover point between summer holidays and the autumn ‘shoulder’ season. Menus were being changed, and opening hours reduced.

Finally, perhaps for the reasons above, I didn’t actually discover a standout pub on this visit – one that made me think “I must bring Ray here.”

This isn’t to say I didn’t like any of them. I had some very nice sessions, and few complaints.

It’s just that pubs in this part of the world – and, indeed, anywhere sparsely populated but also dependent on tourism – have to work hard to appeal to everybody.

So, you end up with a fairly inoffensive but unexciting offer. This applies to food, booze selection, and decor.

We’re still in faux-half-timbering and by-the-kilo horse brasses territory here.

I’m sounding rather negative about the whole thing and that isn’t my intention.

I think if you didn’t overthink beer and pubs like we tend to, you would have been utterly charmed by all of the pubs.

I observed groups of German and American tourists who were absolutely delighted by what they’d found. You will certainly find plenty to eat and drink, and the ale will be decent.

Anyway, I did get to fulfil a long held ambition and do a crawl (on foot) between the twin pubs of Mary Tavy and Peter Tavy.

I read about these two villages decades ago and was intrigued. They’re about a 25 to 30 minute walk apart through a beautiful wooded valley.

The Mary Tavy Inn is slightly away from the village, on an A road, and would be an excellent pitstop with its enormous garden and view across the moor.

It’s also quite down to earth with football screens everywhere. That felt quite unusual for this part of the world.

I got in five minutes before closing – the reducing opening hours I mentioned earlier – which gave me enough time for a quick half of Jail Ale and no more.

In contrast, The Peter Tavy Inn is up a dirt track in the middle of the village, and leans heavily into rustic charm, with a fancier menu.

While I enjoyed both pubs, it’s the walk between them that will linger with me, with the first brown leaves and a late summer breeze between the trees.

Tags devon

bristol pubs

The Crown has been revived and still has Bass

Post author By Boak & Bailey
Post date 25th August 2024
1 Comment on The Crown has been revived and still has Bass

The Crown Tavern is a Bristol landmark but its future seemed uncertain when the former publicans retired. But it has been saved and revived.

We first noticed The Crown when… Well, you couldn’t help but notice it. It’s a big, hulking Victorian building surrounded by small ones.

And, until quite recently, it had trees growing out of its brickwork, and a general air of intimidating dilapidation.

It took us a while to summon the courage to go inside. When we did, we found that it was just a neighbourhood boozer, with a mostly older clientele. The atmosphere wasn’t scary so much as sleepy.

It had all the signs of being doomed, though. The building was crumbling, for one thing.

For another, the publicans, Gloria O’Connor and her husband Dominic, were in their eighties.

And, finally, there was its location: a pub desert to the south and east, and rampant development to the north and west.

The Crown Tavern in 2021, before its refurb.

When it closed early in 2023, we assumed that was it. Demolition or redevelopment was sure to follow.

Then people who are much more clued into Bristol pub gossip than us told us they’d heard Sam Gregory, landlord of The Bank Tavern, was interested in taking it on.

You might have heard of The Bank, even if you don’t know Bristol: it’s the one with the four-year waiting list for reservations for Sunday lunch.

We filed this news under “We’ll believe it when we see it”. So much can go wrong with plans to revive pubs, as we’ve seen with successive attempts to take on The Rhubarb.

But scaffolding went up, workmen came in, and by spring this year, there were clear signs of a refurb underway. We’d walk past on our way to the nearby Swan With Two Necks and peer in, trying to catch glimpses of what might be going on.

“It’s opening next week,” someone told us several months ago. It didn’t, which seemed a worrying sign. Then, last Friday, in mid-August, it did.

The bar at The Crown Tavern – the same as before but with fresh paint.

We wandered in yesterday, unable to resist the lure of a wide open door and the sound of clinking glasses. This is already a contrast to The Crown of old with its opaque entranceway, all frosted glass and net curtains, guarded by smokers.

Sam Gregory himself was behind the bar, beaming as he welcomed us. The first thing we noticed was something that had not changed: cask Bass on the bar.

“It’s controversial, though,” he told us. “Because it’s on handpump, served with a head. Whereas a lot of Bristol pubs serve it through electric pumps, completely flat.” (It’s true.)

Honestly, much as we appreciate that local tradition, the pint he presented looked all the more attractive for its inch of tight white foam.

“They’d only sell it to me if I promised to keep it as a pub,” he added, when we complimented the refurb. Was that also the reason for the presence of Bass? He nodded slowly. “But it’s selling very well.”

The refurb is good. In many ways it feels like the same pub – basic to the point of austerity, neither fussy nor trendy. There are some shiny, jewel-like tiles on the walls, and a few plants here and there, but not much that would startle a customer from the 1920s.

The main thing is that everything is clean, fresh, sharp and new. The windows are clear and clean, allowing light to stream in. And where there used to be gloom and shadows, there are warm, subtle lamps.

The beer range isn’t designed to attract craft beer types, although four cask ales, including Bass, might be a draw for the CAMRA crowd. The guest ales on our visit were from Twisted Oak and Hop Union.

It’s not quite the same type of pub it was before but, frankly, how could it be? Where is the business model that supports selling £2 pints of Bass or cans of lager to a dwindling cohort of ageing drinkers?

But it’s not pretentious, hipsterfied, or unwelcoming, and seems to have sidestepped gentrification controversies.

The most exciting thing for us is that there is now another decent pub within walking distance of our house, a full two minutes closer than The Swan With Two Necks.

And that a small run of decent pubs is emerging in St Judes. You could have a very happy afternoon or evening wandering between The Crown, The Swan With Two Necks, and The Volunteer.

Throw in The Phoenix (it has its attractions) or The Coach & Horses (more Bass) and you could keep going, too.

The Crown Tavern is at 17 Lawfords Gate, Bristol BS2 0DY.

Tags bass

bristol pubs

A tale of three pubs on the day of the big match

Post author By Boak & Bailey
Post date 15th July 2024
1 Comment on A tale of three pubs on the day of the big match

By 4pm somebody has already set off a flare on King Street enveloping the gathered drinkers in red smoke.

Almost everyone is wearing an England football shirt – white, red, grey, blue – and some have fashioned flags of St George into capes.

They’re drinking lager or cider from plastic glasses, bought at The Llandoger Trow or The Old Duke, or cans from the convenience store round the corner.

Those drinks get lifted in the air every couple of minutes as one group or another kicks off a round of singing.

It’s like flirting, the initiation of a song: a burly lad will make eye contact with another lad across the square and bellow “Heeeeeeey Juuuuude!” The other lad and his mates will join in, then a third group, then a fourth…

It’s generous to call it singing. It’s passionate one-note yelling, really.

One thing is clear, though: it’s coming home.

The Kings Head is empty and silent apart from the sound of an indie playlist from Spotify.

The bearded barman has the softly spoken manner of a scholar or perhaps a spiritual hermit. “I’m not interested in sport at all,” he mutters.

Outside on Victoria Street, gangs of football fans pass, yelling tunelessly, wobbling around on eScooters, flag-capes flying.

A grey-haired man comes in and asks, anxiously: “Do you have a screen?”

The barman shakes his head.

“Oh, good,” says the customer, then finds a dark corner in which to drink his pint while reading a magazine.

A spirit of contrariness has overtaken The Barley Mow.

There is a big screen set up for the match but one barman is wearing a red and yellow Barça shirt and there is flamenco music playing over the speakers.

A bunch of England lads stumble in (vintage shirts, flags) and order “whatever normal lager you’ve got”.

One of them tries to get some singing going and the volume of the flamenco music seems to increase.

Tags football

20th Century Pub pubs

Does The Vulcan Hotel belong in a museum?

Post author By Boak & Bailey
Post date 11th June 2024
9 Comments on Does The Vulcan Hotel belong in a museum?

The Vulcan is a Cardiff pub that’s been relocated to a museum. Is this a good way to preserve pubs or just another way of destroying them?

The Vulcan reopened for business at St Fagans National Museum of History about a month ago, after several years of “Coming soon!” updates.

We visited on a busy Saturday expecting a sterile exhibit, based on the photos we’ve seen online. The very act of rebuilding and restoration means the building looks too neat and bright, like something from Poundbury.

In its original location it was covered in soot, urban grot, and layer upon layer of paint. It was surrounded by railings, billboards, street furniture and litter. At St Fagans, it’s all fresh bare brick and fresh country air.

We’re not the only ones with concerns. When Martin Taylor wrote about this project a while ago he said:

The Vulcan was to Cardiff what the Laurieston is to Glasgow (or the Charlie Chaplin was to the Elephant & Castle if I’m honest), that “was” telling you that the pub closed a decade ago and is still being rebuilt brick-by-brick at St Fagans, where pashminas from Cowbridge will ask what wines it sells.

On top of all that, the website suggested booking a table if you wanted to see The Vulcan and, as we approached, it looked overcrowded and oversubscribed.

Imagine our surprise, then, when we walked straight in, got two pints, found a seat, and forgot we weren’t in a ‘real’ pub for an hour or so.

Well, no, that’s not quite true. We were always aware that it wasn’t quite a proper pub. But rather than sterility, its location and status seemed to add to the fun.

The pale wood partitions between the public bar, jug and bottle and, beyond, the corridor to the smoke room.

We’d got the impression that this was going to be something like an ornate Victorian gin palace, perhaps because the exterior is richly decorated with shiny green tiles. But the public bar is actually defined by plain, light-coloured wood, and mostly plain walls decorated with the odd vintage advertisement. There is literally sawdust on the floor, to the delight of every toddler that passed through.

The smoke room at the back feels cosier, with lower light, dark green paint, and dark wood furniture. It’s really not much different from a room in a typical 21st century pub in, say, Sheffield, or Dudley.

It was constantly busy and not only with gawpers. Lots of booze was being bought and drunk and everyone was mildly merry, including us, in a realm where a mild caffeine buzz and a sugar buzz from scones is about as far as it usually goes.

We didn’t see any pashminas but there were plenty of football kits, trackie bottoms, trainers, and tattoos. There were lots of strong local accents, too. Delightfully normal. After all, St Fagans isn’t a particularly snooty museum – entry is free and you can use it like a park, if you like, and hang out all day with a picnic.

From our seat near the door we watched one person after another walk in and beam with delight, say “Wow!”, or both. And it has to be said that dads and granddads in particular seemed to be in their element.

Hard working staff at The Vulcan.

There were four bar staff on duty in vaguely historic costume and we wondered whether they were pub people with a bit of museum training, or the other way round.

They were remarkably cheerful and willing to engage in chat, and the conversation around the crowded bar went something like this:

“How long have you been open, then?”

“Four weeks today.”

“Busy?

“Very.”

“I used to drink in this pub when it was in town. I’ve come out special.”

“Aw, that’s lovely. You’re not the first old faithful we’ve had in today.”

“I see you’ve got an electric till – that’s not very authentic, is it, ha ha!”

“Well, we can’t be expected to tot it up in our heads, can we? But we’ve hidden it under the counter.”

“How long have you been open, then?”

“Four weeks today.”

“Pink nail polish – that’s not very authentic, ha ha!”

“It’s not, is it? What can I get you?”

“Do you do a normal lager?”

“We do. Pint?”

“My granny used to drink in The Vulcan years ago.”

“Aw, that’s lovely.”

“Health and safety notices – they’re not very authentic, are they, ha ha!”

“We’ve had to make a few compromises, unfortunately.”

“I wanted to show my son where I used to drink when he was little.”

“Aw, that’s lovely.”

“Where did this pub used to be, then?”

“Adam Street.”

“What’s the strongest thing you’ve got?”

“Well, some of the spirits are 43%, but you probably want the pale ale.”

“Is the ale real, or fizz?”

“This is real ale on the pumps.”

“Lager – that’s not very authentic, ha ha!”

“Well, we do hide it under the counter.”

Looking at the barman in the flatcap Ray growled under his breath: “I bet this will attract Peaky Blinders wankers.”

“To a museum? Nah,” said Jess.

Then, a few minutes later we overheard one of the staff said: “You can hire it out for private events. We’ve got a Peaky Blinders theme thing happening soon…”

The other thing that’s great about the new location is the additional context it brings. Right across the road is the Oakdale Workmen’s Institute, built in 1916 and relocated to St Fagan’s in 1995.

It was intended as an antidote to places like The Vulcan, with libraries, reading rooms, and space for edifying concerts.

If you want to understand the evolution of the pub in the early part of the 20th century, you can do worse than hop between the two.

Will the staff at The Vulcan still be cheerful after a long, hectic summer season, we wonder? And will the pub still be as busy once those curious to see an old haunt in a new location have done so? We’ll have to go back in a year or so to find out.

Seeing how much booze this museum exhibit was selling, and how happy it made people, made us wonder whether more pubs could consider the heritage angle.

We know we’re weird – we know – but we’d certainly be interested in drinking in historic pubs that have been made over to feel historic. Rather, that is, than painted bloody grey.

Tags 19th century, cardiff, edwardian, victorian

20th Century Pub marketing pubs

What is the Watney’s font?

Post author By Boak & Bailey
Post date 9th June 2024
2 Comments on What is the Watney’s font?

Watney’s brewery might have disappeared but its brand lives on in the collective memory and people often ask “What is that font?”

The post-war Watney’s brand identity was created by the Design Research Unit. They were commissioned by Watney’s in 1956 and eventually delivered a pioneering House Identification Manual in around 1960.

This guidance included comprehensive rules on which lettering styles to use, for which purposes, in which contexts.

So, there’s problem number 1: there is no single lettering style but rather a whole set of different, complementary ones.

Problem number 2 is that these weren’t ‘fonts’ in the 21st century sense.

This is a bit boring, and tends to bring out the pedants, but here’s a quick summary of the terminology as we understand it:

typeface – related sets of letters and numbers in different sizes and weights, like Gill Sans, which comes in bold, condensed, italic, shadowed, and so on.
font – a specific style of a particular typeface, such as 12 point Gill Sans Italic. In the days of traditional printing, this would be a single set of metal letters.
lettering style – a design for a set of letters and numbers that might not be used in print at all but cast in metal or plastic, cut from wood, or hand painted.

The meaning of ‘font’ has changed, however, so that, these days, it usually means a digital file you install, such as Roboto_Black.ttf (a TrueType font), which can be automatically resized.

And what most people want to know when they ask about a font is which one they should buy or download for their computer.

With that in mind, throughout this piece, we’ll suggest some digital fonts that will get you close to those used by Watney’s, even if they’re not exactly the same.

The information in this post comes from two Watney Mann in-house technical manuals, House Identification Manual and Basic Elements.

We’ve seen pages from these reproduced in other books and online but were very kindly sent complete scans by Nick Stone, AKA TypeJunky, to whom we owe several pints.

The font in the Watney’s Red Barrel logo

How to layout the logo, from Basic Elements.

The famous Red Barrel logo has the word WATNEYS written across its centre in a style the manual calls Grotesque No. 9.

This style could also be used for, e.g., signs pointing to the toilets, or the lounge in a pub. But, in practice, that doesn’t often seem to have been done.

It was also allowed to be used for pub signs in specific circumstances – see below.

There are digital versions available.

The brand name font

The capital letters from Watney’s Clarendon Bold Expanded, from Basic Elements.

The style used to write WATNEYS was described in the brand manual as Clarendon Bold Expanded. But no other font by this name actually looks like Watney’s version, which is sort of curvy and almost cartoonish.

There is, however, a modern digital font called ‘Freehouse’ designed specifically to mimic Watney’s lettering. That’s what we used for the image at the top of this post.

This style was also used to write the names of subsidiary breweries such as Bullard’s, Phipps, Usher’s, Wilson’s, tying together the various companies that were added to the Watney’s family as the 1960s went on.

The fonts used for Watney’s pub signs

A comparison of the permitted lettering styles from Basic Elements.

A display of pub names from an exhibition at the Design Centre in London in 1966, from The Red Barrel magazine, August 1966.

A common complaint about Watney’s was that their pubs, and the pubs of breweries they took over, all looked the same. In fact, there were a range of different lettering styles for pub signs, with some loose guidelines for which should be used for which brand, in which parts of the country.

In London, Watney’s own pubs used a style described as English Two-Line Antique, somewhat similar to Egyptian Italic and, to a lesser extent, Festive. It’s a 19th-century-style italic slab-serif that absolutely reeks of post-war Britain.

The closest digital font we can find to this is Antique No 6 Black Italic from Commercial Type but, oof, it’s not cheap.

English Two-Line Antique, from Basic Elements.

An alternative was ‘Thorowgood Italic’, another 19th century slab-serif revived at around the time of the Festival of Britain. There’s a digital version of this available at a much more reasonable price.

Two plainer serif styles were also available: Clarendon, of which there are many digital versions, and something called ‘Modern No. 1 Wide’ for which we can’t find an exact match, but it’s in the Modern/Scotch family.

Finally, the red barrel logo font, Grotesque No. 9, was given as an option only for pubs “having narrow fascias” – because its letters are themselves relatively narrow.

Watney’s typography on packaging

A Watney’s beer mat from the 1960s.

A selection of branded items pictured in 1960, from The Practical Idealists by John and Avril Blake, 1969.

We don’t have copies of the manuals for this but grab any Watney Mann beer label or promotional item and you can see the same lettering styles being applied, with similar rules.

Handmade, not digital

If you want to recreate the Watney’s look for your own project – a beer label, say, or a sign for the pub in your shed, consider how you’ll avoid the digital look.

Digital fonts can be a great place to start. But back in the 1960s, signs were painted or cut by hand by craftsmen who painstakingly transferred the letter styles from manuals and pattern books.

This meant they were often subtly wonky or misaligned, with a somewhat organic feel.

And printed labels had ink bleed and other characteristics that gave them texture. There are lots of tutorials on this, like this from Spoon Graphics.

Tags 1960s, design, watney's