Pub 59, Day 24 – Porter Brook

This blog introduces the first of our guest writers. In this instance, the author in question is our long-suffering friend Lucy, who was lucky enough to be selected (from a crowd of eager applicants) to join us for a few beers...

By Lucy

Fast approaching its 60th pub-iversary, the founders of Pubquest had something of a celebration approaching. So, what better way to celebrate than to head to the very heart of sophistication that is Ecclesall Road? Situated in the second wealthiest area in the UK, it boasts an array of upmarket boutiques, restaurants, bars, and South Yorkshire’s only Waitrose. Except we weren't interested in any of that, we were there for the other treat Eccy Road has to offer – pubs, obviously.

Despite Rob and Andy's pledge to address the fact that Pubquest visits a disproportionate number of “nice” pubs, we found ourselves gravitating towards one of the more affluent areas of Sheffield (we’re not snobs, honest). Incidentally, it also happened to be the day of my graduation! Yes, the eagle-eyed readers among you will have spotted that neither Andy nor Rob have bothered to blog tonight. Instead, they've decided to introduce the concept of guest-bloggers as a “celebratory” affair. I've known them both for over a decade now, so it comes as no surprise that they're outsourcing their work – they're far too lazy to write every review themselves. 

 

Our celebration began where Ecclesall Road meets Hunter's Bar roundabout, in a cosy pub with a rather elegant facade (i.e: it had bay windows). Except it didn’t begin there for me, because unlike Andy and Rob I do not possess an encyclopaedic knowledge of Sheffield pubs, and they had failed to specify whereabouts on Ecclesall Road the Porter Brook was. Given that we're talking about a stretch of road approximately three and a half miles long, this was rather an important detail. So, whilst Andy and Rob were tucking into their first pints, I was wandering around the wrong end of the road, furiously channelling my frustration into a group text.

“Where are you?!?!”

Two minutes later – which, by the way, feels like a lifetime when you’re hanging aimlessly around, trying to look like you have a purpose – there was a distinct lack of reply from either of them. Faced with no other option, I resorted to what every millennial dreads: I called them.

Neither of them answered – it’s an unwritten rule. However, as soon as I hung my phone up after the 274th ring, a text message immediately came through from Rob.

“Where are you?”

“I’m where you told me to be. By the Eccy Road roundabout.”

“Which roundabout?”

“The Waitrose one.”

“Oh that’s the wrong one. We’re at Hunter's Bar.”

By the time I had traipsed a mile or so up the road, Andy and Rob were significantly ahead of me, drink-wise. Nevertheless, I ordered my pint and hauled up a chair. I was pleasantly surprised by the pub; I had expected a more middle-class affair. Despite its dignified exterior, the Porter Brook emitted a very homely, personal atmosphere. It boasted Sky Sports, a decent range of locally brewed ales, and plenty of comfortable red leather chairs for which I was particularly grateful. You can even sit outside and admire the riverside view if your visit coincides with warm weather (the river is also named the Porter Brook, as I’m sure you've figured out). Sadly, there was no sign of a pool table, therefore Andy couldn’t further secure his already substantial lead in their Pubquest sub-quest.

The pint, a home brew called Porter Brook Ale (which we were apparently obliged to drink due to some obscure rule the guys invented), went down a treat: served at just the right temperature and quenching the kind of thirst that only a passive-aggressive stomp up a posh road can muster. Being the height of British summer, the floral, slightly citrusy notes of the ale reminded its drinkers of the sun they never get to see; rounding off to a lip-puckering bitter finish which is precisely the feeling we get when we realise how pathetic our summers actually are.

It should also be said that the Porter Brook does some delightful-sounding nosh too. Sadly, I had indulged in a carvery and half a bottle of “Champsecco” earlier in the day, so there was absolutely no chance I was going to sample their traditional pub grub – at least not without making myself violently ill.

So, despite its disappointing lack of pool/snooker facilities in which Rob could further embarrass himself, the pub demonstrated the perfect home away from home: light, spacious, yet somehow managing to exude an intimate, welcome-home feel from the moment you walk through the door. A very good find.

Pub: Porter Brook (565 Ecclesall Rd, Sheffield S11 8PR)

Rating: 7/10

Pint: Porter Brook Ale

Brewery: Porter Brook (Homebrew)

NEXT UP: Accidental flirting, at The Porter Cottage...

Pub 58, Day 23 – Horse & Groom

By Rob

Sitting in The Red Lion, we looked back over the list of pubs we’d visited thus far. Two things were immediately apparent:

1. A disproportionate number of the pubs were in and around the city centre
2. A disproportionate number of the pubs were really nice

Town was where I lived and where Andy worked, so the location issue made sense. However, it was becoming clear that we were rapidly exhausting our supply of easy-to-reach pubs. What’s more, Pubquest was supposed to be about visiting all of Sheffield’s pubs – including places we would never normally go. Focussing on trendy, real ale venues wasn’t an adventure, it was simply an extended night out.

So, seeking to balance the scales a little, we got on a bus and threw ourselves into Gleadless Valley.

Gleadless Valley was the ideal place to go. It was known to be, shall we say, a little rough around the edges, which would help fix our middle-class problem. It was also decidedly not in the city centre, which helped to alleviate our geographical concerns. Finally, we knew of at least two pubs in the Valley and we knew where they were. Perfect.

With the bright lights of the city centre receding behind us, we eventually arrived at our location. Intending to visit The Blackstock first, we disembarked at the nearest stop, greeted by the not-so sparkling sights of the Valley's neglected streets.

It quickly became apparent that The Blackstock was closed (not permanently, just for the night). As experienced pub-goers, we were able to spot those subtle indicators that suggest a venue is not open for business. In this case, the locked doors and total lack of lighting gave it away.

Fortunately, we knew of another pub just five minutes down the road. After Andy slipped in a pile of wet autumn leaves and bruised his arse, we wandered over to the Horse & Groom.

This pub, an unattractive building in its own right, sits across the road from what can only be described as a tip. Now, when I say this, I'm not insulting the surrounding houses – the pub is literally across the road from Sheffield's busiest recycling centre.

Looking at it from the outside, nestled between the Valley's housing estate and a rubbish dump, neither of us were overcome with a desire to rush inside. But this was the cold reality of Pubquest, which we'd ignored for too long. We'd spent our time hopping from one gentrified part of the city to the next, fooling ourselves into thinking it would be like this forever. Now we were being reminded that Pubquest meant going where the yuppies wouldn't. Pubquest was serious business.

“I give it ten minutes before a fight breaks out,” Andy said to me as we walked towards the entrance.

“Don't be such a snob,” I shot back. “I bet it's nicer than you think.”

Once inside, I wore my I-told-you-so smirk all the way to the bar, because the place was absolutely fine. It was a small pub, with a pool table on a raised section at one end of the building. The interior was a little outdated and worn, but otherwise we were pleasantly surprised.

Even the choice of ales was better than imagined (as we had, admittedly, imagined none). We ordered two pints of Bumble Beer and got ourselves seated. The beer – a light amber ale containing honey – was slightly sweet and entirely passable at first, although it gradually morphed into a sickly substance as you worked your way down the glass.

Ever the "greedy, opportunistic pig" when it comes to food (a quote from the man himself), Andy spotted a large selection of sandwiches laid out on a table near the bar. Acutely aware of his surroundings, he decided to enquire about their availability before taking one.

“No,” snapped the woman behind the bar. “They're for the pool team,” she said, nodding in the direction of the pool table and its occupants.

Dejected, Andy sat back down and we began to discuss the pub. I made a great effort to hammer home the point that Andy's immediate impressions from the outside had been wrong, while my open-mindedness was to be commended. I was about to launch into a lecture on the deplorable practice of judging books by their covers, when two drunk lunatics crashed through the front doors.

Looking quite a lot like the Gallagher brothers, one of them staggered to the bar and ordered their pints, while the other stumbled towards the pool table. What happened next can be broken down as follows:

• The newcomers wanted to play pool
• Unfortunately, there was a pool match taking place between actual teams, so that wouldn't be possible
• The newcomers really wanted to play pool
• Again, it was explained that this was a pool match, between teams, and so they couldn't take part
• The two points are repeated, over and over

Eventually, the disagreement ended with pints of lager being thrown all over the shop, with glasses smashing left, right and centre. The two men threw some punches and received some in return. At one point, one of the participants shouted – and I quote – “Listen, I'll bite your fucking nose off you fucking mug!”

The whole ordeal ended with Liam and Noel being ejected from the pub, along with those pool players who had enthusiastically involved themselves in the altercation – which happened to be most of them.

Knowing what awaited me just inches away, I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the pint in my hand. After staring at my glass for as long as possible, I reluctantly turned to face Andy's I-told-you-so smirk, a cold reflection of the one I had worn just minutes earlier.

He glanced down at his watch: “It took six minutes for a fight to break out,” he stated.

Before I could respond, we were interrupted by the barmaid. She was standing there with a tray of sandwiches in her hands.

“Looks like the pool match has finished early,” she said brusquely. “Want some sandwiches?”

Pub: Horse & Groom (426 Blackstock Rd, S14 1JE)
Rating: 3/10
Pint: Bumble Beer
Brewery: Wentworth Brewery (Rotherham)

NEXT UP: Our first guest blogger, at the Porter Brook...

Pub 57, Day 23 – The Red Lion

By Rob

In terms of Pubquest milestones, we'd already reached quite a few. Pub number 50 had recently been ticked off; we'd found a pub that merited the coveted 10/10 (because it was a good pub and not because it provided Andy with sexual gratification); and we'd even produced a bonus blog.

Although we celebrated every significant achievement, we'd often thought that the real indication of longevity would be when we visited a pub with the same name as one we'd previously been to. It transpired that The Red Lion, on Charles Street, was to be the first such place. (As you will recall, the first Red Lion on our journey was a nice little pub over in Gleadless, where we'd shamed ourselves on the snooker table, right before a beautiful little man-date at Viva Tequila.)

To anybody with a half-decent knowledge of pubs, the title of our first repeat-namer will come as little surprise. After all, it's a well-known fact that the most common pub name in the UK is the Red Lion. While it's true that the top ten pub names change depending on the list you're looking at, and of course the numbers are constantly in flux, the Red Lion tops every chart.

Top 10 Most Common UK Pub Names:^[1]

1. Red Lion
2. Crown
3. Royal Oak
4. White Hart
5. White Horse
6. Swan
7. New Inn
8. Rose & Crown
9. King's Head
10. Bell

Why is the Red Lion so popular, I hear you ask? Why not the Blue Tiger? In fact, why not something with a more obvious message, such as The Nice Pint or The Cheap Beer?

In truth, there's no clear-cut reason behind why the Red Lion is such a popular name. However, its origins are widely assumed to be heraldic, namely the fact that red lions were a common feature on the many different coats of arms in medieval and early modern England. A savvy innkeeper, wanting to ensure he's on the good side of the bloke who owns the land beneath his feet, could display the local lord's crimson cat above his doorway as a mark of respect and loyalty.

There's also a theory that, like with The Mulberry Tavern, a decree of King James I is behind the name – with the Caledonian monarch alleged to have ordered the Scottish red lion displayed on all public buildings after acceding to the English throne. As a key figure in the history of British unification and a monarch whose life was almost snuffed out by the Gunpowder Plot, James' lasting influence on UK pub names is often overlooked.^[2]

***

Having spent a gruelling few hours doing all of those things that students do during the day,^[3] I felt ready for a drink when the evening rolled around. I called Andy and arranged to meet him in town for some light refreshments.

Sitting squarely in the city centre, The Red Lion fitted the bill nicely. The pub's a pleasure to behold from the outside and is somewhat set back from the city's main thoroughfares (which is why we'd previously missed it during our tours of nearby Norfolk Street and Arundel Gate). Inside, the pub is comprised of two distinctly different sections: a classic, old fashioned lounge area with a pool table and a newer, conservatory-like extension.

Unable to ignore an empty pool table, we wasted three pounds on three frames and Andy stole every one, thereby extending his already significant lead. The only consolation was that the games were snappy and each one ended quickly – unlike the debacle at the initial Red Lion.

We moved into the other room to finish our drinks (two pints of Saxbob Blues, a slightly citrussy session ale that, while not overwhelming, was perfectly drinkable) and both agreed that we were big fans of this particular setting. The hanging fabric and large windows helped to create a modern, light and airy drinking space that gave this otherwise ordinary pub an edge.

As the last drops of ale vanished, we debated what to do next. We decided that the evening shouldn't end with The Red Lion, and so we began to discuss the next pub on our agenda. But that's a story for another blog...

Red Lion pool score: Andy 3-0 Rob

Pubquest pool score: Andy 40-28 Rob 

Pub: The Red Lion (109 Charles Street, S1 2ND)
Rating: 7.5/10
Pint: Saxbob Blues
Brewery: The Sheffield Brewery Company 

NEXT UP: Witnessing a punch-up, at the Horse & Groom...

References:
[1] Most popular pub names, Daily Mail (for the link, click here)

[2] Mark Andrew Pardoe, Pub names – Red Lion, BBC Nottingham, http://www.bbc.co.uk/nottingham/entertainment/pubs/redlion.shtml

[3] "All of those things that students do during the day" is largely taken to mean napping, watching TV, playing on the Xbox, and opening up the laptop and looking at the work that needs doing without ever attempting to complete said work

Pub 56, Day 22 – Broomhill Tavern

By Andy

You've heard of golf widows.

You've heard of football widows.

Meet the Pubquest widows.

Until this article, you probably presumed us both to be single. After all, pub anoraks tend not to be the most socially successful.

Indeed, anyone who read our abject attempts to pull in West Street Live will be convinced that we will die alone.

Quite the contrary though, we could both be accused of punching.

[punching: verb. To punch above one's weight; to bat above one's average; to make a mockery of society's rules and conventions. Synonym: Beauty & The Beast]

"How can they spend their days crafting such delightful pub reviews while
still having the time to maintain a relationship?” I hear you cry.

However, that is not to say our girlfriends are happy. Since our relationships began, they have heard few topics of conversation that do not directly or indirectly relate to Pubquest.

Andy:       “Are you up to anything this Friday?”

Cat:          “Nope, what have you got in mind?”

Andy:       “Brilliant – me and Rob are going to The Red Lion for Pubquest, are you alright to pick us up afterwards?”

Perhaps understandably, the girls wanted to get in on the action. Initially of course, we were mortified. Why not start your own Cocktailquest, we argued, rather than gatecrash our event.

Eventually though, we relented. (Under the thumb, us? Certainly not.)

Personally, after all those evenings apart, I felt I had to prove that “Pubquest” was not just a metaphor for a long-lasting affair with the new girl at work.

Choosing our venue carefully, we opted for the Broomhill Tavern. A friendly pub in a trendy area, it manages to combine the stylish spirit of the surrounding students with the homely feel of a classic country pub.

We selected two pints of Broomhill Tavern Cask Ale (and two glasses of rosé wine), continuing our Pint-With-The-Same-Name-As-The-Pub Rule. The pint was refreshing if a little bland, and I would give it a solid 2^nd place out of the three home-brews we have consumed so far (less adventurous than the Frog & Parrot but tastier than the Shepley Spitfire).

The home-brew and an expansive seating area ensured the Broomy Tav rose to the occasion – myself and Rob were after a good selection of beers, Hannah was keen for “somewhere nice” and Cat was after “somewhere I can sit down” (high standards, as ever darling). Pleasingly, the Broomhill Tavern ticked all the boxes on our somewhat eclectic checklist.

On a previous visit, me and Rob took part in the pub quiz, and our team came dismally last – a sure sign that the pub caters to classy clientele.

Even more endearing, I once ordered a pie, only to be told that they'd made too many pies for that day so I could have two for the price of one. At this point, I clearly faced a moral dilemma – do I instruct the Broomhill Tavern that instead of wasting excess food on me, there are numerous local charities who would gladly accept meals for free? Or do I agree to two pies like the greedy, opportunistic pig I am?

Needless to say, I didn't manage to finish my second pie.

All-in-all: good beers, a homely feel and free pies: we like the Broomhill Tavern.

Pub: Broomhill Tavern (484 Glossop Road, S10 2QA)

Rating: 7.5/10

Pint: Broomhill Tavern Cask Ale

Brewery: Broomhill Tavern (Homebrew)

NEXT UP: So good they named it twice: The Red Lion...

Pub 55, Day 21 – The Mulberry Tavern

By Rob

The Mulberry Tavern, in its present-day form, dates back to the 1970s when the original building was demolished and replaced with the new concrete block. At the time of its deconstruction, the original pub was one of the oldest buildings in the city, having been built around 1725. 

The original Mulberry Tavern
(courtesy of Picture Sheffield)

One theory surrounding the pub’s name relates to the decree of King James I, who considered silk to be ‘the most profitable commodity for the country’ and ordered that Mulberry trees – the food source for silkworms – should be planted wherever possible.^[1] In response to the Crown’s designs, the gardens between High Street and Norfolk Street became home to a number of the plants, just a stone’s throw away from the site of the pub.^[2]

Moving over from The Roebuck, we
stood outside The Mulberry Tavern and looked on at the somewhat uninviting exterior. We knew the pub didn’t have a fantastic reputation and the rundown entrance-way did little to ease our
worries. Steeling ourselves, we headed inside.

Once up the stairs we found ourselves in a reasonably-sized, open taproom. The almost deathly silence of the Tavern was broken only by the occasional ‘pop’ of the cueball on the pool table at the far side of the room. Apart from us and the guys on the baize, the only person present was the barman.

We ordered two pints of McEwan’s Lager Cold, which can only be an improvement on McEwan’s Lager Warm. We were pleased about getting hold of a lager on Pubquest, a treat made startlingly rare by our adherence to the different-drink-in-every-pub rule. The McEwan’s was a crisp and refreshing change from the usual line-up of ales.

Sitting in the pub, with only a few local blokes for company, we didn’t feel as if getting our phones out and snapping pictures of the furniture from every angle would endear us to the punters. However, we knew we needed a photo for the blog and so, like the pathetic cowards we are, we held our phones down at about knee-level and took a couple of very poor pictures, before hurriedly stuffing them back into our pockets. I think you’ll all agree that the result, which represents the clearest and best-angled photograph of the session, was not remotely worth the effort.

Quietly sipping at our pints, it was hard to imagine that the pub had once been a gay bar called Affinity. The public house interior had, not too long previously, been coated in black tiles with glitter balls hanging from the ceiling.^[3] Funnily enough, the incoming landlord had decided that the dance cages wouldn’t fit in with his new theme.

Although The Mulberry Tavern is unlikely to win any awards, its rough reputation appears rather undeserved. It certainly isn’t as intimidating as it looks from the outside, and both staff and customers alike offered us polite smiles upon arrival. We had been to worse places, and there were certainly much darker visits on the horizon.

One thing I am sure of, however, is that the pub would have been much more interesting had it still been standing in its original form – although who knows how a visit to the old Mulberry Tavern might have ended. After all, a travelling businessman once stayed overnight at the Tavern and was found dead in the cellar the next morning. It was assumed that he had fallen through a trap door. Oddly, the man had no identification with him, a large sum of money in his possession, and not one person came forward to identify him after his death.

Thankfully, both Andy and I were a little less dead upon leaving the pub.

Pub: The Mulberry Tavern (10 Arundel Gate, S1 2PP)

Rating: 4/10

Pint: McEwan’s Lager Cold

Brewery: Wells & Young's Brewery (Bedford) 

NEXT UP: Introducing our girlfriends, at the Broomhill Tavern...

---

References:
[1] The Silk Grower and Farmer's Manual, Volume 1, Harvard University, (1838), P.98 

[2] Peter Tuffrey, Sheffield Pubs; Landlords and Landladies, Fonthill Media, (2012), pp.94-95

[3] Sheffield's Tavern is back on top, Sheffield Telegraph, http://www.sheffieldtelegraph.co.uk/news/sheffield-s-tavern-is-back-on-top-1-6444141

Pub 54, Day 21 – The Roebuck

By Andy

Some pubs have good memories. Some pubs have bad memories. While The Nailmakers Arms was the place in which my parents met, and the Nottingham House played host to my incredible Connect Four triumph; The Roebuck was the scene of one of the most traumatic moments of my life.

The year was 2006. I was 16, a slightly awkward teenager yet to blossom into the slightly awkward adult I am today. One day, the unthinkable happened: a girl asked me out. Not only that, but she actually wanted to meet in the evening, as opposed to the usual cinema & McDonald's dates I had been on before. This was it.

“I know a guy that works at the Roebuck Tavern,” she explained. “He'll serve us all night!”

I borrowed my dad's aftershave. I crammed enough condoms into my pocket to last a sexual health clinic for several months.

Alas, the whole thing was a facade. I was nothing more than Plan B.

Despite my best efforts, she spent the entire evening fluttering her eyelashes at her friend behind the bar. Try as I might, she refused to sit further than a yard from him, lest he start talking to someone else.

How could I compete? He was 19, he had stubble.

Eventually, I took the hint and got a taxi home. Alone.

***

“It's been ten years. Perhaps you could give it a second chance?” suggested Rob, tentatively.

I took a deep breath and stepped through the door. Would she still be there, playing with her hair and laughing at an unnatural volume? Would Rob abandon me and finish Pubquest with a member of staff?

Thankfully, the place was quiet, and the barman showed no interest in stealing my companion.

Somewhat relieved, I eyed up the beers. Eschewing the local breweries for once, we chose Oxford Best Traditional Bitter. On my previous visit, I had spent the night drinking pear cider – how times change.

Any further flashbacks were forgotten when we spotted that The Roebuck had not one, but two pool tables! To mix things up, we played our first game on one table, and our second on the other.

I won the first frame. Rob won the next. Clearly, we needed a decider. The problem is, after revolutionising the rules of pool at The Graduate, normal pool just doesn't do it for us anymore. We need a way to get the adrenaline pumping.

The answer was staring us in the face: Double Pool.

The pool tables were both unoccupied. The only thing restricting us to one game at a time was society's expectation. Undeterred, we placed a coin in both tables at once, and so created a sport that's twice as fun.

The rules of Double Pool are a little complicated so I'll talk you through them slowly:

1. You play two games of pool
2. AT ONCE!

Rob was slower to adapt to our radical rule-change, and so I emerged victorious on both tables – and with it became the inaugral World Double Pool Champion.

Perhaps now that we've transformed the sporting world forever, I can look back on The Roebuck with happier memories. After all, the pub boasts a fine selection of beers, ample space (both indoors and outdoors), a pair of pool tables and an appetising food menu.

Having said all that, I wouldn't take my girlfriend along. I might never see her again...

Roebuck pool score: Andy 3-1 Rob

Pubquest pool score: Andy 40-28 Rob

Pub: The Roebuck (72 Charles Street, S1 2NB)

Rating: 8/10

Pint: Oxford Best Traditional Bitter

Brewery: White Horse Brewery (Faringdon, Oxfordshire)

NEXT UP: Murder mysteries, at The Mulberry Tavern... 

Pub 53, Day 20 – Shepley Spitfire

By Rob

With the taste of great food still in our mouths, we headed over to the next pub on our tour. Moving from one well-heeled suburb to another, we found ourselves in Totley, one of the city’s more winsome environs. Teetering on the very edge of Sheffield’s border, this quasi-rural paradise is home to a number of pleasant-looking pubs, including the Shepley Spitfire.

The pub was built in 1978 by a Nottinghamshire brewery. Needing a name for their venture, they launched a competition to find the best suggestion. The winner was a man called Seymour Shepley, who lived in the nearby Woodthorpe Hall.

The Shepley family arrived in the area back in 1926, bringing with them four sons and a daughter. When war broke out in Europe, it sadly claimed the lives of three of the brothers. The third and final of these tragedies occurred in the summer of 1940 when Douglas Shepley, a Spitfire pilot in 152 Squadron, was shot down over the English Channel. His body was never recovered.

After losing so much, the grieving family decided to do something positive, and so they began raising money to purchase a new Spitfire. The people of north Derbyshire and South Yorkshire pitched in, throwing a whole host of different fundraising events. Within 15 weeks the money had been raised and a new plane, aptly named Shepley, joined the ranks of the RAF.

So it was that, decades later, when the only surviving son – Seymour – suggested naming the pub in recognition of this extraordinary story, the owners found their winner.

Fast-forward another handful of decades and, in the first century of the next millennium, two young adventurers clambered out onto the pavement and headed for the entrance.

Once inside the pub, we were a little surprised by what we found. For whatever reason, we’d been expecting a cosy little countryside taproom with a wood-beam roof. Instead, we walked into a very modern, light and airy establishment. In truth, it looked more like a restaurant than a public house.

That’s not to say that it wasn’t nice; it was simply lacking in character. The other thing it was lacking in was customers, as the spacious interior was made even more spacious by the fact that the pub was, unbelievably, almost empty. While the Coach & Horses and The Castle Inn had gone to great lengths to offer food and fun for the local beer festival, the Shepley Spitfire had made absolutely zero effort.

At the bar, we observed that the pub was selling a beer called Shepley Spitfire. Knowing that we were unlikely to see this particular pint anywhere else, we opted for one each.

As the barman began to pour our drinks, we had one of those moments in which we both intuitively knew, right then, just what we had to do. It was another wordless conversation, played out only by our eyes. But in order to make sure that we were on the same page, we then had the discussion using our mouths.

After a brief chat, it was decided that a new regulation had just made its way into the Pubquest rulebook:

The pint-with-the-same-name-as-the-pub rule!

“Wherever a public house is offering an alcoholic beverage that is clearly named after the pub in which it is being provided, then all permanent members of Sheffield Pubquest are required, by statute, to purchase that product and consume it in its entirety.”

Secure in the knowledge that our habit of impulsively legislating would make us terrible politicians, we headed to the beer garden to enjoy the last few hours of sunshine.

Naturally, the last few hours of sunshine appeared to be on fast-forward and we soon found ourselves grumbling about the sudden drop in temperature. After just ten minutes of outdoor living, we retreated to the pool table.

Racing through three games on the baize, Andy won the day by two frames to one. We finished our pints of Shepley Spitfire, which was surprisingly refreshing, and headed off to re-join the rest of my family.

Sadly, the next pub we visited was, much like the Coach & Horses, beyond the boundaries of our beloved city and so it won’t feature on this blog. Maybe when we’ve written about every pub in Sheffield we can start to worry about those in places like Dronfield. However, when that time comes I suspect there will be other things for us to worry about, such as our grandchildren.

Shepley Spitfire pool score: Andy 2-1 Rob

Pubquest pool score: Andy 37-27 Rob

Pub: Shepley Spitfire (Mickley Lane, S17 4HE)
Pint: Shepley Spitfire 
Brewery: Shepley Spitfire (are you sensing a pattern?)
Rating: 5/10

NEXT UP: Childhood traumas, at The Roebuck...