Pub 33, Day 11 – Star & Garter

The Quest for the 50p Pool Table

Volume Three: The Return of the Bloggers

By Rob

This blog is the third in a trilogy of posts. Together, they detail our epic search for a 50p pool table and all the adventures along the way. 

***

Standing on Winter Street, Crookesmoor, it is instantly apparent that you're in a student area. The immediate landscape is dominated by university architecture, ranging from the one-time tallest building in the city, the Arts Tower, to the redbrick sprawl of Bartolome House.

Visit during term time and the street is teeming with students moving from lecture to seminar, from Western Bank Library to the green pleasantry of Crookes Valley Park. The pedestrian traffic has an average age of nineteen and the whole place reeks of youthful optimism, aspiration, and emptied overdrafts.

Yet there is something strangely out of place within this picture.

Its name?

The Star & Garter.

One remarkable thing about this small pub is that, despite being situated on a prime student thoroughfare and thus in an excellent position to cash in, it's a notably non-student establishment.

Like me, you may be tempted to offer congratulations to the landlord on this point. There's something dignified about a local pub, for local residents, resisting the temptation to change course and transmogrify itself into a student pub. Native Sheffielders need a watering hole too, and it stands to reason that they might prefer their pint without an accompanying horde of rowdy punters at least half their age.

Unfortunately, congratulations are not a recognised form of legal tender and the local residents who do partake of the S&G's services are strikingly few in number. As such, the pub has been teetering on a knife-edge for some time - a "To Let" sign outside has been there for so long that it's practically a structural fixture.

It would appear that the management isn't unaware of this. A small sign by the door now weakly and unconvincingly proclaims "Students Welcome". Sadly, it will take much greater efforts to reverse the pub's declining fortunes and convince the student population, who are all too willing to part with their money in exchange for alcohol, to venture inside.

Like many of my fellow university attendees, I'd walked past the pub a thousand times without ever thinking about popping in. After all, it was notorious for how unfriendly it was to student visitors. But one user on Sheffield Forum had just brought this pub crashing to the forefront of my mind. According to this anonymous hero, the S&G once harboured a pool table. This table, he claimed, used to be 50p a game.

As someone who looked very much like a student, I was dubious about venturing inside. After all, the only thing I knew about the place was that I wouldn't be welcome.

But what else could we do? Did the Hobbits shy away from journeying to Mordor just because they'd heard it was full of orcs? Did Luke Skywalker turn his fighter around and fly away from the Death Star, just because he'd heard it might be filled with Stormtroopers? And what, I ask you, would have happened to the wizarding world if Harry Potter had thrown in the towel because he'd once overheard someone say that his nemesis was a homicidal lunatic?

Not wanting to be outdone by Hobbits, Jedi and teenagers, we steeled ourselves against the cold wintery afternoon chill and made our way from The Graduate to the other side of the city centre. Before too long, we found ourselves standing outside that small and uninviting building in the midst of a student kingdom. Like the brave men of the north we were, we strode boldly inside.

The first thing to say is that, on the inside, it looked exactly as we'd imagined: small, dark, and poorly decorated. A few locals were leant against the bar listening to an overloud and eclectic playlist, but otherwise the place was empty.

The second thing to say is that everything I had heard about the hostile atmosphere appeared to be rubbish. The bar staff were more than happy to have us inside and while the locals didn't leap up from their seats to embrace us, they didn't glare at us either.

Happy about not being threatened with fists and sharp implements, we glanced around the dimly lit interior.

Then, at the far side of the pub we saw it.

The pool table stood there, empty and inviting. The sight of it's not-entirely-pristine baize was like water to a man dying in the desert. Hearts racing, we moved towards it.

Each step lasted a lifetime, each breath consumed an age. We had traversed the endless hills of Sheffield for this moment. Trusting in nothing but the word of a stranger, we had come here, to this rarely visited spot at the end of our hope, and put what little faith we had left into this one, final push.

After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the table. We glanced at the coin slot in unison.

'50p a game'.

Just then, the track on the playlist changed and the hallelujah chorus came on.

(It didn't).

We fell to our knees, holding one another tight, and we wept.

(We didn't).

We slapped each other on the back, ordered two pints and paid our 50p.

(We did).

The choice of drinks was predictably lamentable and we each bought a pint of Guinness.

At the time of writing this blog we have now been to the S&G several times and have built up a considerable pool score there. The pub has, with tragic inevitability, witnessed us return as regulars.

Of course, it hardly deserves a stellar rating. It’s not a great venue. It’s not even nice. But for us, it was a place made of pleasant surprises: nobody wanted to stab us, and the pool table was 50p a game (not to mention completely empty).

So, proving that we are not professional reviewers and are, in fact, easily swayed by even the slightest measure of happiness – the Star & Garter gets an unquestionably undeserved eight stars.

S&G Pool Score: Andy 21-15 Rob 

Pubquest Pool Score: Andy 29-18 Rob

Pub: The Star & Garter (82-84 Winter Street, S3 7ND)
Rating: 8/10
Pint: Guinness
Brewery: Guinness Brewery (Dublin)

NEXT UP: Stuck in traffic, at The Closed Shop... 

Pub 32, Day 11 – The Graduate

The Quest for the 50p Pool Table 
Volume Two: The Two Black Balls   

By A. R. R. Wilson

This blog is the second in a trilogy of posts. Together, they detail our epic search for a 50p pool table and all the adventures along the way.

***

After the opening chapter of our trilogy, we decided to rethink our tactics in pursuit of The Holy Grail. A student pub, we reasoned, would bring us more success – its inhabitants are eternally skint, and quite often have absolutely nothing to do with their day, making cheap pool the perfect distraction. With this in mind, we took our odyssey deeper into Middle Sheffield, to The Graduate by Hallam Uni. What's more, as it was just 2pm, we hoped to catch it before the students arrived for breakfast.

As a kid, on holiday in sunny Scarborough, I remember finding a pool table which cost just 20 pence to play. Such an outcome was but a distant dream on this dreary day in Sheffield. Things were simpler back then...

However, as I had only recently moved back to Sheffield from Howden, I was determined not to be beaten. In sleepy Howden, all pool tables were 50p a pop. Suddenly, on my return to the big city, I was faced with paying twice the price for the same product. No other commodity doubled in price after my relocation – I shudder to think how much a game of pool costs in London.

“I hear the landlord's thinking of putting the pool table up to tuppence a game.”
“Ridiculous! Who's gonna pay that?”

The Graduate is a good-looking pub, with a modern feel and an inviting layout. Located by the beautiful Tudor Square, it is an excellent venue to sit outside and watch the world go by (if the weather permits). The pub is part of the Stonegate Pubs chain, and so has a semi-Spoons vibe about it, but at the same time comes across as much trendier. This is proven by the absence of bearded middle-aged men, a staple of the Spoons diet; in their place are energetic tables of students.

The beer selection though was not the most exciting – ales were sold, but they were all so familiar as to make us turn to lager. A pint of Estrella was selected – a Catalan beer which I once became somewhat addicted to while on holiday in Barcelona.

Upon heading over to the pool table, we were immediately met with disappointment: £1 per game. However, at least The Graduate gives you a bit of added value: bizarrely, the table spat out two black balls, in addition to the requisite reds and yellows.

Not wanting to waste our free ball, we decided to position it behind the triangle (as you would in snooker). Having to think on our feet, we adjusted the rules slightly: only once you have potted all your colours can you begin potting the blacks. The blacks can be potted in any order, but whoever pots the final black wins.

This turned out to have a levelling effect on the game – Rob stormed off into an early lead, but dallied potting the first black. By the time he managed that, I had caught him up, and duly sank the second black to claim victory.

Unsure if we had invented a new sport or ruined an established one, our thoughts once more returned to the objective – to find a pub in the city centre which charges just 50p a frame.

All out of ideas, we turned to the place all Sheffielders visit during their hour of need: the Sheffield Forum. There, a heroic user pointed out the name of a pub we hadn't even considered...

Graduate Pool Score: Andy 1-0 Rob

Pubquest Pool Score: Andy 8-3 Rob

Pub: The Graduate (Surrey Street, S1 2LH)
Rating: 6/10
Pint: Estrella Damm
Brewery: Sociedad Anónima Damm (Barcelona)

NEXT UP: The trilogy concludes, at the Star & Garter... 

Pub 31, Day 11 – The Cavendish

By Rob
 
The Quest for the 50p Pool Table 

Volume One: The Fellowship of the 50p Pool Table 

This blog is the first in a trilogy of posts. Together, they detail our epic search for a 50p pool table and all the adventures along the way.

***

After our visit to The Beehive, our long term ethanol-infused excursion underwent a bit of a slowdown. Andy, having successfully secured himself a job in Sheffield, was busy attending to all those details that accompany a relocation, thus finding himself without the requisite spare time for Pubquest.

The months rolled by, the year changed, and we finally arrived at February 2015 - the year that Andy returned to his homeland. The journey was back on.

Now that we were endeavouring to continue our pool marathon, we decided it would be a good idea to hone our skills on the baize. Neither of us wanted to embarrass ourselves on a table in some ropey back-alley tavern, while irritated regulars looked on in disgust. Nobody wanted a repeat of the events at the The Red Lion.

Alas, there was a problem. Pubquest was morphing into a pricey affair. Travel expenses aside, the cumulative cost of all those pints was far from negligible. Then, throw in the additional expenditure of playing pool, and the money mounts up. As a student, I didn't need to find extra ways to spend what little money I didn't actually have.

Thus began our quest. A quest-within-a-quest, if you will. We would hunt down that most elusive of beasts: a pub, in the city centre, that charged 50p for a game of pool.

The first place we tried was The Cavendish, on West Street. For anybody who has ever set foot inside The Cavendish, no doubt the question that immediately springs to mind is whether or not it is actually a pub.

A similar conundrum to that encountered upon visiting West Street Live, there were good arguments for both sides. However, the place is owned by Stonegate Pubs. It's also listed on Google as a pub and, as our uncodified, self-imposed rules state: if there exists any reasonable doubt about the status of the establishment then we must assume it's a pub and treat it as such.

Inside, it's easy to see why somebody might label it otherwise. The bar stretches for a considerable length along the far wall and there are drinks offers aplenty, most of which gently suggest this not a very 'pubbish' sort of pub.

Of course, that's not necessarily a bad thing. I really like The Cavendish. It's nicely decorated inside with a variety of seating areas and the drink prices are very reasonable considering its central location. It's always lively at the weekend and does an impressive trade most weekdays too.

As for the ales, there's a reliable stream of guest ales on tap that makes it an ideal stop for us. We each bought a pint of Pride of Sheffield, an enjoyable malty ale with an unashamedly local name.

Waiting for a vacant pool table, we sat ourselves down. Minutes into this, we saw that some guys across from us were giving us a strange look: confusion mingled with mild disgust.

We then noticed that one of our pints was full, while the other was significantly less so. We'd been drinking from the same glass. It turns out that there's something oddly perverse and unsettling about seeing two grown men drink continually from the same pint. Wanting to look a little less grossly codependent, we quickly amended our error.

When a pool table became available we leapt up with our characteristic vim and vigour. Unfortunately, it cost one full English pound per game. That's not to bash The Cavendish, as pretty much everywhere charges a pound.

Undeterred from our goal, we played four frames, drawing at two each. We then headed out into the cold bite of midwinter to continue the search for our quarry. 

Cavendish Pool Score: Andy 2-2 Rob

Pubquest Pool Score: Andy 7-3 Rob

Pub: The Cavendish (220-238 West Street, S1 4EU)
Pint: Pride of Sheffield
Brewery: Kelham Island Brewery (Sheffield)
Rating: 8/10

NEXT UP: The quest continues, at The Graduate...

Pub 30, Day 10 – The Beehive

By Andy

The bell rang.

Unlike at school, where this was always a joyous occasion; when you're sat in a pub, it is a moment of despair. It can only ever be followed by two words:

“Last orders!”

We had run out of time. Our planned pub crawl around Hillsborough had come crashing to an inescapable halt. In order to continue, we once again had to head to town.

Luckily, The Queen's Ground is on the tram route. With West Street being the obvious stop to disembark at, we ended the night at The Beehive.

Pleasingly for West Street, The Beehive is still undeniably a pub – with carpeted floors and wooden chairs, you could be forgiven for thinking you were in the suburbs. Not to worry though, as a quick glance out the window will soon bring you back to reality, where the local entertainment includes drunken kebab juggling and high-heeled gymnastic routines.

All too many “pubs” in town have abandoned their roots and morphed into pub-bar bastards, unthinkable hybrids of J.D. Wetherspoon and Peter Stringfellow. This is undoubtedly an attempt to tick all the boxes, but all too often ends up pleasing no-one: an impressive array of guest ales and 4 Jagerbombs for £5 do not belong under the same roof.

The Beehive hasn't fallen for such populist nonsense, and it is all the better for it. Strangely, this seems to manifest itself in improved decorum – whereas at many city-centre drinkeries, punters crowd around the bar until the person at the front can no longer breathe, The Beehive retains a more orderly system, pleasing everyone who values an intact ribcage.

Don't be mistaken into thinking it's less lively than its neighbours though. When we arrived at almost midnight on a Thursday it was still buzzing with students, and on a Friday night it maintains its colony until closing time.

Getting into the spirit of things, we selected two pints of Freshers Ale, a fruity beer whose logo awakens nostalgia for anyone who spent their pocket money at the sweet shop.

Thankfully, Freshers (the ale) wasn't quite as sour as Refreshers (the sweets), although it did possess a tangy kick in honour of its inspiration.

Glancing around, we noticed something always sure to arouse our interest: the pool table stood idle. Although we had both proved our worth against formidable opponents so far on Pubquest, we were yet to play each other. That was about to change. Being of a similar ability, we agreed that the only way to determine who was better was to compete at every Pubquest pool table we encountered. With scores to settle and change to waste, the pool marathon began.

As most of the clientele at this time seemed more interested in drinking games than cue sports, we managed to hold on to the table for quite some time. This was bad news for Rob, who was woefully out of form. I took the first five frames, before he reduced the deficit to 5-1. However, just as he was announcing his comeback, he was rudely interrupted.

The bell rang.

“Last orders!”

The Beehive pool score: Andy 5-1 Rob

Pubquest pool score: Andy 5-1 Rob

Pub: The Beehive (240 West Street, S1 4EU)

Rating: 8/10

Pint: Freshers 

Brewery: Naylor's Brewery (Cross Hills, North Yorkshire)

NEXT UP: The quest for the 50p pool table, at The Cavendish...

Pub 29, Day 10 – The Queen's Ground

By Rob

As the doors of The Shakey closed on the sounds of merriment and celebration, so too did they close on one of the lowest periods of Pubquest so far. We hadn’t expected to win the quiz, but even in our darkest moments – during the popular culture questions, for example – we had never envisioned being subjected to public ridicule.

Nevertheless, with the exception of several debilitating diseases and a host of other potential misfortunes, we reminded ourselves that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

With a newfound resolve, strengthened by two pints of beer and half a packet of protein-rich peanuts, we headed to the next pub. Leaving Hillsborough Corner behind, we walked down Langsett Road in the direction of the city centre.

Before long we arrived at The Queen’s Ground Hotel. From the outside it looked like a very nice establishment indeed, set inside a sizeable stone building with large bay windows looking out onto the street.

Inside, the pub was very typical of the older gentleman’s drinkery, with a heavily patterned red carpet and walls the colour of Dijon mustard. However, I should say that it was by no means unpleasant. There was an eye-catching stained-glass feature above and behind the bar, which looked as if it had been there for a good many decades, advertising ‘Ward's Fine Malt Ales’. There was also a billiards room at the back of the building, which will always be a welcome addition as far as we’re concerned.

Unfortunately, despite the statement to the contrary, there were no fine malt ales on sale. In fact, there was not an ale in sight. As such, we elected to imbibe a pint of John Smith’s Magnet.

While it’s understandable that a few of you non-existent readers might have some doubts about whether, say, John Smith's Extra Smooth and John Smith's Extra Cold are different beers, there can be no such doubts surrounding the categorisation of Magnet.

Although Magnet can be bought right across the UK, it is now heavily restricted to the North East of England and Yorkshire. It is easily the least well known of the John Smith's products and, for whatever reason, unlike the other variations it gets absolutely no promotion from the business. In fact, if you look on the John Smith's website, you will see that they only list two products: Original and Extra Smooth.

With its continually decreasing territorial range, Andy and I have long been of the opinion that Magnet is a critically endangered species and will, in the foreseeable future, cease to be.

Why do we care? Well, mainly because it’s a nice pint. The strongest of all the John Smith's beers, Magnet also has a much richer, fruitier taste. Without a doubt, it deserves far more recognition than it gets.

Sat there, nursing the beer equivalent of the Sumatran Tiger, I found that my desire to like the pub was greater than my ability to do so. The interior was nice enough, it had a snooker table, and it served Magnet; it was ticking the right boxes.

Unfortunately, the place was virtually empty. Worse still, the few people that were stood around the bar managed, deliberately or otherwise, to exude an air of unfriendliness that was only encouraged by the barman – you would think he would be pleased to welcome two more customers to his sparsely populated pub.

So, despite drinking Magnet in an old pub with a snooker table, The Queen's Ground gets an uninspiring 4/10.

Pub: The Queen's Ground (401 Langsett Road, S6 2LJ)

Rating: 4/10 

Pint: John Smith's Magnet

Brewery: John Smith's Brewery (Tadcaster, North Yorkshire)

NEXT UP: The pool marathon begins, at The Beehive...

Pub 28, Day 10 – The Shakey

By Andy

Not knowing Hillsborough too well, we opted to wander round aimlessly until we found another pub. Luckily, this took all of ten seconds: The Shakey is located diagonally across the crossroads.

Having just left one Spoons, we could have easily mistaken our new location for another: The Shakey is a large, spacious pub with a range of regulars who span from unwelcoming alcoholics to over-friendly party-goers.

An eclectic mix of furniture contributes to the pub's modern decor – canvas prints and patterned wallpaper complete the contemporary vibe. However, I couldn't help but feel The Shakey is a pub failing to reach its potential: despite its attractive interior, the pub failed to offer any ales to complement its indie feel.

(I have been informed by a friend who frequents this pub that we may have simply caught them on an off-day, as ales are part of their line-up, but certainly there were none available for our visit – we did two laps of the bar to make sure).

With only the usual suspects to choose from, we selected two pints of Ruddles Smooth.

I know what you're thinking: “But guys, you already drank Ruddles Smooth at The Penny Black! This will ruin your attempt to have a different pint in each pub!”

If you truly were thinking that then I applaud you – you have better Pubquest memory than me and Rob. Needless to say, upon realising our error a few days later we were truly mortified, and will be making a return visit to The Penny Black to correct this anomaly.

As we supped our Ruddles – a pint I've always been quite partial to – the barmaid glanced in my direction. It was only fleeting, but our gazes definitely met. Without a word, she sauntered over and placed a piece of paper and pen on our table. My eyes lit up. It was pub quiz night.

Rob (correctly) pointed out that we had planned to visit a few pubs that evening, and stopping for the quiz would significantly slow our progress. I countered by saying that we had embarked on a journey to assess every pub in Sheffield, and to leave halfway through a pub quiz would be bordering on heresy. He agreed, and we began the daunting task of coming up with a team name.

When planning pub quizzes in advance, we always make sure to bring our girlfriends along. The four of us make for quite a formidable team – our girlfriends know all about celebrities and current affairs, while us men answer questions on the important things in life – which football team plays at which ground etc.

Without our girlfriends, this was going to be a true test of our intelligence.

On this occasion, we lacked the feminine touch when asked celebrity-obsessed questions about irrelevant Z-listers such as Angela Merkel and Vladimir Putin, whereas we exchanged a knowing glance when quizzed on pressing global issues such as the Snooker World Championship. Unfortunately, there are only so many questions about Ronnie O'Sullivan that can feature in one quiz.

Alas, The Shakey is one of those pubs that likes to name and shame its gallant losers.

And so it was that, to the soundtrack of cheers laced with schadenfreude, the barmaid read out our score. Worse still, she ensured the entire pub knew exactly who we were by bringing us a wooden spoon prize – a packet of Nobby's Nuts.

Someone once told me that food tastes better when you don't have to pay for it. That person has clearly never munched their way through a packet of Nobby's Nuts while the regulars at The Shakey howled with derision. Each and every mouthful tasted of despair and defeat.

***

A few days after our visit, and with the resulting social anxiety still keeping me firmly indoors, I remarked to my dad what a strange name “The Shakey” was for a pub. Seeing that I had piqued his interest, I mused a couple of my logical deductions:

Perhaps it was named in honour of some historic Hillsborough earthquake, long-forgotten in the mists of time. Or maybe it was in this very pub where Ian Fleming decided he didn't like his Martinis stirred.

My dad glared at me as if I had brought shame on the entire family and growled: “It used to be called The Shakespeare you bloody half-wit.”

Pubquest: striving to solve even the most complex etymology.

Pub: The Shakey (196 Bradfield Road, S6 2BY)

Rating: 5/10

Pint: Ruddles Smooth

Brewery: Greene King Brewery (Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk)

NEXT UP: A gallon of Magnet, at The Queen's Ground...

Pub 27, Day 10 – The Rawson Spring

By Rob

Now, as the more diligent readers will have noticed (I am, of course, working under the delusion that people are reading this) we had so far been fairly unadventurous in our visits. Most of the pubs we had been to were either near the city centre or situated within reasonable walking distance of our individual abodes.

So, given our rather gingerly progress thus far, we decided to go a bit further afield in search of our next public house.

We hopped on a tram and didn't get off until we reached Hillsborough, a suburb borrowing its name from the nearby Hillsborough House, an eighteenth-century dwelling built for a local landowner who named it in honour of his patron, Wills Hill. Not only was Hill a prominent politician, but he also happened to be the Earl of Hillsborough, a townland in Northern Ireland.

The first pub we visited was the Rawson Spring. Originally an old swimming baths built in the early 1920s, it now represented the second Wetherspoons of our pint-filled pilgrimage.

The Rawson Spring is typical of a Sheffield Wetherspoons, occupying an impressive building of not inconsiderable age and playing host to the usual mixed crowd of customers, with the standard Wetherspoons decor. That being said, the shape of the former baths makes for a large, open-plan, and striking interior.

Like every other 'Spoons, we had no trouble whatsoever in selecting a drink we hadn't seen before. We each had a pint of Young Henrys, a nice – but quite bitter – ale from Australia.

The exciting topic that consumed our attention was the possible return to Sheffield of Andrew Wilson. Naturally, the fact that Andy lived in Howden was slowing down our Pubquest progress. As such, he had decided that he needed to uproot himself from village life and return to the fold. There was also the small matter of a job in Sheffield, for which he had attended an interview that very afternoon.

Suffice it to say, we were both crossing our fingers and hoping for his success.

Pub: The Rawson Spring 
Rating: 7/10
Pint: Young Henrys Real Ale  
Brewery: Young Henrys (based in Newtown, Australia)

NEXT UP: An embarrassing pub quiz performance, at The Shakey...