Pub 46, Day 16 – The Woodseats Palace

By Rob

As the emerald-tinted disappointment of The Chantrey Arms receded into the background, we approached the final of the four Chesterfield Road pubs. The journey, it seemed, was to end with a Wetherspoons.

Like most of its sisters in Sheffield, this particular establishment had cocooned itself within an impressive building of not inconsiderable age, transforming its innards into the easily recognisable Wetherspoons interior.

A former picture house that first opened its doors to the public in 1911, The Woodseats Palace has retained its original name and, in many ways, its original function (people still go there to relax, to be entertained, to sit and stealthily touch one another’s genitals).

In a similar fashion to The Rawson Spring or the Sheffield Water Works Company, the nature of the building means that the pub is incredibly spacious and can seat a great many of Wetherspoons’ typically varied clientele.

On a busy night this gives the place a good, if slightly boisterous, atmosphere. On a quiet night, however, the unoccupied acres of carpeted floor only serve to highlight the emptiness that might otherwise go unnoticed in a more appropriately-sized venue.

On this particular night the pub was about half full. To our great dismay, our untimely entrance coincided with the reading of question seven of The Woodseats Palace pub quiz.

Despite our slightly-better-than-awful general knowledge, we knew that a handicap of seven would be too much for even us to overcome. Glumly, we headed to the bar.

We perked up slightly when we scanned the extensive range of beers on offer – an attribute of Wetherspoons that is always appreciated.

On this occasion we went for a pint of ‘This. Is. Lager.’ from BrewDog, the trendy craft beer manufacturer and employer of young bearded hipsters. Given our quest to try and avoid drinking the same pint twice, we naturally find ourselves sipping an awful lot of ale. As such, it's always refreshing to be able to order a lager.

The pint did not disappoint and, with its malty flavour and citrus tones, it made for a nice change from the usual ales. According to the good people over at BrewDog headquarters, this lager is both "robust" and "honest" (there are many things that I might look for in a lager, but I can safely say that trustworthiness is not among them).

The quiz went on around us and, truth be told,  our non-participation turned out to be a blessing as question after question passed us by, few of which we could answer. We finished our drinks fairly quickly – a testament to the welcome change that lager made – and headed outside.

The Dreaded Stairway

In a weak attempt to counter some of the adverse health effects of consuming endless pints, we decided to walk from Woodseats into town. About ten minutes into the journey we realised that this effort was woefully inadequate and that, to have any impact on our physical wellbeing, we would need to increase the level of exercise significantly.

It seemed as if Lady Fortuna herself had been listening, as our eyes fell upon a handily-placed and wickedly steep set of stairs. Andy, unquestionably the sportier of the two of us, ran straight towards them and began to jog up the incline. Hot on his heels, I followed suit and ascended the stairway.

It was magnificent – man versus gravity, burning off the calories and strengthening the muscles. Just five seconds in and I could feel my blood pumping, my heart racing, my legs pounding the concrete. 

Ten seconds in and I had to stop – leaning on the railing and trying very hard not to be sick on myself. It turns out there is a reason why athletes don't get tanked up on ale before they start their training... 

Pub: Woodseats Palace (692 Chesterfield Road, S8 0SD)
Rating: 6/10
Pint: This. Is. Lager.
Brewery: BrewDog (Ellon, Aberdeenshire)

NEXT UP: Racist clientele, at the Hollin Bush...

Pub 45, Day 16 – The Chantrey Arms

By Andy

While the Big Tree is taking positive steps to shed its rough reputation, The Chantrey Arms is in danger of heading in the opposite direction.

A strikingly attractive pub from the outside, the interior seemingly last had a refurb when Margaret Thatcher was Leader of the Opposition.

Green walls, lime curtains, olive upholstery

Presumably, towards the end of the 1970s, some short-sighted painter-and-decorator bought a lorry-load of green paint on the cheap, thinking: “Well it's lasted all decade, I'm sure avocado bathrooms are a trend that's here to stay!”

Suddenly, as the nation woke up to its senses, the poor chap was left with litres of unsellable ware. In an act of evil genius worthy of The Apprentice, he then somehow managed to convince the local landlord to paint his pub the colour of catarrh.

Still, we didn't begin Pubquest to discuss decor, so it's time to talk about beer.

The range of pints was steady if not spectacular, and we opted for Doom Bar – a reliable Cornish ale which accounts for 90% of the output of Sharp's Brewery.

Sir Francis Chantrey

The pub is named after Sir Francis Chantrey (1781-1841), a Sheffield sculptor. Born in Jordanthorpe, he is perhaps best-known for his posthumous philanthropy: upon his death his fortune was used to create The Chantrey Fund, which helped purchase countless works of art for the nation.

According to Margaret Whinney, author of English Sculpture 1720–1830, “Chantrey was rare among the leading sculptors of his time in not having visited Italy at a formative stage in his career.” Rumours that he chose not to go upon hearing that you can't buy Hendo's in Venice are as yet unsubstantiated.

Whether Sir Francis would be more proud of The Chantrey Fund or The Chantrey Arms bearing his name is unlikely to be up for debate. With the locals crowded round watching the football, me and Rob positioned ourselves in the corner feeling somewhat like outsiders.

Having come out in my work clothes, I was feeling particularly out of place – so much so that Rob repeatedly dared me to ask the gathered crowd if they wouldn't mind changing the football over for University Challenge.

Perhaps if we were dressed in green we could have blended more subtly into the background...

Pub: The Chantrey Arms (733-735 Chesterfield Road, S8 0SL)

Rating: 4.5/10

Pint: Doom Bar

Brewery: Sharp's Brewery (Rock, Cornwall)

NEXT UP: Becoming athletes, at The Woodseats Palace... 

Pub 44, Day 16 – Big Tree

By Andy

Moving down Chesterfield Road, we soon encountered the Big Tree. Named in honour of the oak which grows outside, the landlord faced a dilemma when the tree blew down during a storm in the 1980s: what to rename the pub? The Hole In The Ground? The Upturned Roots?

Luckily, someone thought on their feet and planted an acorn. While The Big Tree seemed delusional with just a sapling outside, they stuck with it and the name is once more apt.

The pub has been recently refurbished, and was clearly trying to shake off its rough reputation. Happily, it was by-and-large succeeding, with a glossy interior and friendly locals.

Having just missed happy hour, we ordered two pints of Wild Swan – a classic from Thornbridge Brewery, who can always be relied upon. The choice of beers was especially pleasing, setting the Big Tree apart from some of its neighbours.

The Big Tree (background) and the big tree (foreground)
[photo by RDB photography]

As always, a pool table caught our attention. But this time, there was something more: a dartboard. Once found in every pub up and down the land, dartboards are now an endangered species (no doubt in part due to a fear of Health & Safety incidents). Also, with no coin-operated mechanism, a desire for profit means many establishments no longer have this basic facility.

'Something a customer can do which is free? Good heavens, why would we offer that?' Thankfully, the Big Tree has dispensed with such capitalist overtones, and as such we embarked on our first Pubquest darts match.

As a general rule, Rob only excels at games it is not cool to excel at. Dominoes. Backgammon. Chess. Were the Big Tree to establish a Dungeons & Dragons tournament, I have no doubts in suggesting that Rob would reign supreme.

Darts however is more my territory. As an all-round pub athlete, I take great pride in my ability on the baize and at the oche. As such, I was quietly confident of emerging triumphant.

Throughout the match, my darts oozed consistency: never more than two inches from that Triple 20 marker.

On the other hand, Rob sprayed his darts around like a cat marking his territory.

While I was repeatedly hitting the same numbers, Rob's scores had all the consistency of a bingo caller.

Somehow, his scores held up. Combined with my propensity to throw Bed and Breakfast*, we both approached the finish line at the same time.

Tactfully, I had left myself Double 20 to win. Double Top*. Lipstick*.

With three arrows to achieve it, I felt confident of adding darts to the long and varied list of Pubquest activities I had beaten Rob at.

Approaching the oche, I fixed my gaze and steadied my arm.

However, with the sort of gamesmanship that even Diego Maradona would have frowned upon, Rob made an announcement.

“I'm going to the toilet.”

“What?”

“That beer's gone right through me. I'll be back in a sec.”
“But I'm about to–”

“Don't throw anything till I'm back. Otherwise I won't believe you.”

And off he went.

Not content with disrupting me from the zone, Rob returned with an audience.

“This is Gary. I met him in the bathroom.”

“I hear you only need Double 20,” said Gary. “Off you go then.”

Having had a minute to overthink things, and now with the added pressure of an audience, I never stood a chance. Miss, miss, miss. Gary must have wondered how I got so close to winning in the first place.

Rob had left himself the somewhat less orthodox Double 9 to win. Truth be told, he was just throwing random numbers until he reached The Madhouse*.

However, to everyone's amazement, he hit Double 9 with his first dart.

I have to admit, I was stupefied. Throughout the game, Rob had shown all the precision of a roulette croupier. Suddenly, when the chips were down, he had summoned the spirit of Phil Taylor.

Gary, Rob's new-found ally, who lest it be forgot was a stranger to us both just five minutes ago, proceeded to mock me for my inability to close the game out.

“What happened? You were nowhere near!”

On the surface, I pretended not to care. Deep down though, defeat was hurting. I could only pray that the next pub had a dartboard to exact revenge.

*This is darts lingo. Rob wouldn't understand it.

• Bed and Breakfast – a score of 26 achieved with 3 darts. This is often thrown by players who are good, but not quite good enough – it refers to throwing one dart in each of the three numbers closest to Triple Twenty: 1, 5 and 20. It is not a particularly good score.
• Double Top – this refers to Double 20, as it is at the top of the board.
• Lipstick – again, this refers to Double 20, as it is a thin band of red.
• The Madhouse – this refers to Double 1, the least desirable and most difficult of all the scores you can win with. Typically only attempted by extremely unskilled players.

Big Tree darts score: Andy 0-1 Rob

Pubquest darts score: Andy 0-1 Rob

Big Tree pool score: Andy 0-1 Rob

Pubquest pool score: Andy 35-26 Rob

Pub: Big Tree (842 Chesterfield Road, S8 0SF)

Rating: 6.5/10

Pint: Wild Swan

Brewery: Thornbridge Brewery (Bakewell)

NEXT UP: Thatcher, Hendo's, and Sheffield sculptors, at The Chantrey Arms...

Pub 43, Day 16 – The Abbey

By Rob

For generations the brutal territorial war between Derbyshire and Yorkshire has raged in the cold north of England. Lives have been shattered, bloodlines erased, and countless persons have been lost to this perennial geo-political conflict.

The village of Woodseats has spent much of its life situated right in the centre of this devastating struggle. From the Old English Wodesettes, this ‘fold in a wood’ has sat on the fault line between the two regional superpowers for eons.

In 1934, Woodseats was seized from Derbyshire and formally became part of the City of Sheffield, thus marking what would surely be the darkest and most significant event to take place in Europe in the 1930s. Of course, the consequences of this were more far-reaching than anyone could have then anticipated, as it meant that over eighty years later the district of Woodseats would be on the list of places to visit during Pubquest.

Our decision to drink in this particular area had stemmed from the fact that we had visited a disproportionate number of city-centre, or near-city-centre establishments. As such, it seemed like a good idea to journey somewhere further out. What's more, we knew that Woodseats played host to a number of nice pubs. In particular, there were four public houses along Chesterfield Road: The Abbey, the Big Tree, The Chantrey Arms, and Woodseats Palace – and we were aiming to visit them all.

We thus found ourselves stepping off the bus just outside of Graves Park, from where we could spy our first target: The Abbey.

From without, we were presented with a large stone building on the corner of Chesterfield Road that was hard to miss. 

Inside, the pub appeared to function in the opposite manner to the Tardis, seeming somewhat smaller than we had expected. The decor was all up to scratch, presenting the entrants with the standardised semi-traditional style. However, the management could have elected to smear the wallpaper with charcoal and write obscenities on the ceiling and it wouldn't have mattered – the place was so dimly lit that a quiet murder could have taken place in the corner and we would have been oblivious.

Now, I have no problem with mood lighting, and I readily acknowledge that the glaring intensity of fluorescent overhead bulbs would ruin the atmosphere in almost any taproom. However, only certain places are suited to having such very low-wattage lamps (wood-panelled smoking rooms, drug dens, very posh restaurants, the Batcave) and sadly pubs are not amongst them. In fact, it was probably because of its unnecessarily shaded interior that the pub's innards seemed disproportionately petite.

Squinting at the pumps on the bar, we each chose a pint of Harvest Pale. The flagship beer of its brewery, and the SIBA National Champion Bitter 2004, Champion Bitter of Britain 2007 and Champion Beer of Britain 2010 – how could we not choose it? Additionally, we felt that a light coloured beer would be easier to locate in the darkness.

We took our seats and sipped at our drinks. The Harvest Pale was nice, although I'm not sure I would echo the words of its makers, who describe it as having "exceptional poise". This is not because I doubt the accuracy of the statement or the integrity of the hard working folk at Castle Rock Brewery, but simply because my ale-tasting expertise is so poor that I must confess to being unsure about what it actually means when a beer is poised.

Sitting there, talking to Andy (using the sound of his voice as confirmation that he was still seated across from me) I rather enjoyed myself. Yes, the pub was much too dark. However, the selection of ales on offer was reasonable and – although we didn't eat there – the food menu also provided a good range of options.

All in all, a perfectly decent pub that's worth a visit if, like us, you're sampling the delights of Woodseats. 

We finished our ales and, poised for our next visit, stepped through the door and into the shining brilliance of the outside world.

Pub: The Abbey (944 Chesterfield Road, S8 0SH)

Rating: 6/10

Pint: Harvest Pale

Brewery: Castle Rock Brewery (Nottingham)

NEXT UP: Making friends in the toilets, at the Big Tree...

Pub 42, Day 15 – Brown Bear

By Rob

Not altogether devastated to be leaving The Penny Black, we wandered over to the Brown Bear on Norfolk Street. 

Situated in a really smart area of the city centre – near the theatres, the public library, the Winter Gardens – the Brown Bear looks every bit the charming and traditional urban pub. The building is Grade II listed, dates back to the nineteenth century, and is one of Sheffield's oldest pubs, having been licensed back in 1822. Its location upon a picturesque cobbled street really adds to the Victorian aesthetic.

The inside matches up very nicely with its outward appearance. The pub exudes warmth and comfort, with its autumnal colours and two cosy rooms – both of which sit either side of a small, central bar. Once known for attracting celebrities and politicians, it's easy to see why the pub has maintained its popularity for so long.

And popular it certainly still is, as we walked into a busy taproom with very few empty seats. Luckily, after shouldering our way through elderly merrymakers, Izzy’s keen eyes fell upon a vacant table and chairs in the corner of one of the rooms. After securing our spot, Andy and I headed over to the bar to order the drinks.

It was at this point that the Brown Bear provided us with its own very unique manner of entertainment, in the form of a no-nonsense barman.

As we were waiting to order, another customer approached the bar from the opposite side. Eventually, the barman turned to us and inquired as to what we would like to drink. The newly-arrived gentleman, however, was less than pleased at this sequence of events and decided to vocalise his unhappiness.

“Um, excuse me,” he said, causing the barman to turn on the spot. “I’m waiting to be served”.

Frowning, and ignoring every customer-service handbook ever written, the barman calmly replied:

“Yes, I see that. But I should point out that we have something called a ‘queue system’ in place here. What that basically means is that I serve people in the order at which they arrive at the bar. These boys,” he pointed at myself and Andy, “were here before you.”

In response, the customer snorted and promptly left the pub.

An illustration of less-than-exemplary professionalism, maybe. But it was certainly funny to watch.

We each ordered a pint of Samuel Smith’s Light Mild, an ale which, as its name suggests, was quite light in both colour and taste – although it still carried a surprising amount of flavour for its 2.8% strength.

We all toasted what had been a successful evening, and both Izzy and Hannah complimented us repeatedly on our important cultural voyage until we were blushing with modesty. At least that is my recollection of the conversation.

Pub: Brown Bear (109 Norfolk Street, S1 2JE)

Rating: 8/10

Pint: Samuel Smith's Light Mild

Brewery: Samuel Smith Brewery (Tadcaster, North Yorkshire)

NEXT UP: A Woodseats pub crawl begins, at The Abbey...

Pub 17, Day 15 – The Penny Black [The Return]

By Andy

Why, I hear you ask, would anyone ever return to The Penny Black?

Well readers, like many misfortunes in life, it was all the result of a cock-up.

Pubquest rules state that we must drink a different pint in each pub. On our previous visit to The Penny Black, we chose Ruddles Smooth. Tragically, by the time of our trip to The Shakey, we had successfully erased The Penny Black from our memory, and once again selected Ruddles Smooth.

Consequently, and despite much consternation from our guests Izzy and Hannah, we knew we had to make a repeat visit.

With The Shakey being a bit of a trek, and The Penny Black being in the city centre, we decided it offered the simplest solution.

The pub was originally built for the nearby Royal Mail workers,

and was named after the world's first adhesive postage stamp.

As you may have by now realised, this blog can occasionally lag behind schedule. As such, when Rob wrote the original entry for The Penny Black, he was well aware that we would have to make a return journey in the near future. With that in mind, I feel he beat around the bush somewhat, and in the interest of his own safety, failed to offer our loyal readers the honesty you deserve.

Now, safe in the knowledge that we will never be visiting The Penny Black again, I will refute a few of his assertions.

1) “The staff were nice and friendly.”

I can only presume that a different member of staff was working that night.

After our previous mishap, we selected Strongbow Dark Fruit this time around – we agreed it was the drink we were least likely to come across again. Admittedly, this is a pint we would not often choose. Even so, the barman stared at us as if we had requested two Woo-Woos, unable to conceal a look of disappointment with the modern man.

Handily, Strongbow Dark Fruit tasted like vomit-flavoured Lemsip, ensuring we will never forget drinking it, and therefore never accidentally order it again.

2) “There was real ale available.”

A debatable point. As previously covered, the most unique pint available was (the mass-produced) Strongbow Dark Fruit. With the above statement, Rob is referring to our nemesis Ruddles Smooth. However, whereas Ruddles Best and Ruddles County are unequivocally real ales, Ruddles Smooth is a bastard-child – it carries the name of a reputable ale brewer, but fizzes from a keg.

3) “The Penny Black is by no means horrible.”

This sentence actually borders on praise. I hereby confirm that contrary to the above

statement, The Penny Black is horrible.

The Penny Black Pool Score: Andy 1-1 Rob

Pubquest Pool Score: Andy 35-25 Rob

Pub: The Penny Black (40 Pond Hill, S1 2BG)

Rating: 4.5/10

Pint: Strongbow Dark Fruit   

Brewery: H. P. Bulmer (Hereford)

NEXT UP: Outspoken staff, at the Brown Bear...

Pub 41, Day 15 – The Howard

By Rob

Strolling down Howard Street – one of Sheffield's more visually appealing and smartly constructed pedestrianised thoroughfares – we arrived at The Howard Hotel.

Anyone who has ever made use of the train station, or strolled by it, will have noticed the pub. Its large, striking, half-timber Tudor exterior is very much a part of Sheaf Square's immediate landscape. And yet, despite its semi-iconic status as a piece of local architecture, I had never been inside.

Setting right this inexcusable travesty, we headed indoors.

Now, the old English idiom that Andy and I continually find ourselves repeating – "never judge a book by its cover" – has served us well. Every now and then we come across a pub that, based on its outward appearance, we think will be a rough 'un. As previous instalments have demonstrated, our initial assumptions are often wrong.

Once again, the time-honoured metaphorical phrase proved itself apt. However, instead of being pleasantly surprised, this time we were disappointed.

Looking at The Howard's handsome Tudor facade, I couldn't help but expect an interior that was just as aesthetically impressive. Unfortunately, the cosy taproom with its thick wooden roof beams and crackling log fire was nowhere to be seen. Instead, we walked into a large, open-plan establishment that was decidedly average in its presentation.

Of course, I should point out that there was nothing at all wrong with the pub. It was spacious, reasonably modern and it had a pool table. The only issue was that in the case of this particular book, the contents didn't reflect the cover.

The Howard pub, centre-right. (Photo from Google Maps, contributor: Alasdair Denton)

Approaching the bar, we eyed the reasonably decent range of ales and opted for a pint of Ruby Liquorice Smoked Beer. Upon hearing this, the woman behind the bar laughed at us. If that reaction wasn't enough to make us dubious about our selection, a second member of staff came over and asked us if we like smoky bacon crisps. However, the fact is that we do like smoky bacon crisps. This, the helpful barman went on to suggest, meant that we should find the ale to our liking.

Naturally, the three of us gravitated towards the pool table and Izzy watched on in delight as Andy and I won a match each. She also watched on in delight as the two of us struggled to slowly make our way through the pints we had bought.

The notion that our positive disposition towards smoky bacon crisps would somehow translate into an appreciation of the beer turned out to be woefully inaccurate. I do like smoky bacon crisps and, when I'm buying actual bacon, I always opt for the smoked variety. I like smoked sausages and I'm also partial to certain smoked cheeses. I'm no great lover of fish, but I think smoked salmon is at least palatable. I can’t even be accused of being prejudiced against smoked beverages, because I quite enjoy a cup of the smoked lapsang souchong tea. But despite this wide range of consumables, the fact remains that some things just ought not to be smoked, and beer is one of them.

We later discovered that this particular beverage is part of the Marston's Brewery 'Revisionist' range, which aims to provide people with "something a little different" by allowing the brewers to "ignore the rule book".^[1] While we all might like to go a little crazy sometimes, I think this proves that in most circumstances, the rulebook is there for a reason.
  

Halfway through our visit and we were joined by my girlfriend, Hannah. Ever the supportive ray of sunshine (if at any point you think I'm being too soppy then please put yourself in my shoes and understand that she will, at some point, read this) she had come to join us on the evening’s journey.

As we neared the bottom of our glasses, Andy had started to warm to the smoked beer. By the time he reached the final few drops, he had come to appreciate its unique flavour and distinctive aroma. Meanwhile, I was still retching my way through the last mouthfuls of what tasted like the pungent run-off from a swilled-out ashtray.

Eventually the drinks were put away and the four of us left. While the innards had failed to live up to the standard set by the exterior, and I had found my pint almost offensive due to the savagery it inflicted upon my tongue, The Howard Hotel is actually a perfectly pleasant pub that is worth a visit if you're hovering around the train station and find yourself stricken with a thirst.

Howard Pool Score: Andy 1-1 Rob

Pubquest Pool Score: Andy 34-24 Rob

Pub: The Howard (57 Howard Street, S1 2LW)

Rating: 6/10

Pint: Ruby Liquorice Smoked Beer

Brewery: Marston's Brewery (Wolverhampton)

NEXT UP: Righting a few wrongs, at The Penny Black... 

References:
[1] http://www.revisionistbeers.co.uk

Pub 40, Day 15 – The Globe

By Rob

Izzy, a friend from the days when I was a full-time student with long hair and acne, was visiting Sheffield for a few nights. We'd decided to meet up for a drink and a catch-up. After all, I was excited to see her reaction when she realised that, five years later, I was still a full-time student with long hair and acne.

Given that Andy and Izzy are also friends, and that any occasion involving drinks is just waiting to be hijacked by Pubquest, I picked up the phone to extend an invitation to my fellow adventurer. He was, of course, delighted.

Unable to convince Izzy to meet us on the fringes of the city and stroll around a series of obscure pubs, we agreed to restrict ourselves to the centre of Sheffield. Her unreasonable refusal was centred around having to pay in excess of £20 for a taxi to take her somewhere she didn't want to go, in order to indulge us in what she thought was merely a hobby.

(Oh, how foolish she will feel when our readership reaches double digits.)

We all met up at The Globe. Like The Cavendish, this venue is owned by Stonegate Pubs and is clearly geared towards the more youthful customer. Unlike The Cavendish, however, this pub is also part of the Scream chain and, as a result, it's not just marketed at a younger clientele but is aimed almost entirely at students. This is perfectly natural, given its location directly opposite Sheffield Hallam University's largest building.

Inside the pub, the decor was a bit of a mishmash. For instance, I really liked the huge, eighteenth-century-esque picture of the globe (the planet, not the pub) on the wall. However, I was somewhat less impressed by the furniture, which appeared to have been procured from an 'everything must go' auction at a recently liquidated Wacky Warehouse. The chairs were all different colours and, without exception, each layer of the rainbow was represented in its brightest possible variant. The effect, upon entering the pub, was not unlike having your eyes pricked.

As usual, both mine and Andy's timekeeping was impeccable and, consequently, Izzy had been sat there nursing a drink for about ten minutes by the time we arrived.

We each ordered a pint of Cotton Tail, an ale from the Sheffield-based Fuggle Bunny brewery. A sweet drink with somewhat citrus undertones, it went down a treat.

Glasses in hand, seated on chairs of almost incandescent pigmentation, we immersed ourselves in conversation. Izzy, it soon transpired, had followed Andy into the real world and now worked in a proper job, like a fully functioning adult member of the human race. Pursuing my astonishingly relevant and vocational MA in Medieval History, I thanked my lucky stars that I could count on the inevitable success of Pubquest to set me up in later life.

After some time had passed I found myself being won over by The Globe. Although the upholstery had scarred my corneas, the pub had a nice warm atmosphere and a reasonably good selection of ales. A pleasant vibe and a decent drink count for much more than the finer points of interior design, however bad they might be.

We finished our rabbit-themed ale (which was a little less hoppy than might have been expected) and headed over to the next place.

Pub: The Globe (54 Howard Street, S1 2LX)

Rating: 6.5/10

Pint: Cotton Tail

Brewery: Fuggle Bunny Brewhouse (Sheffield)

NEXT UP: Smoky beers, at The Howard...