Garston

On an uncomfortably hot and humid day I headed to Garston.

My first target was the Palatine, but it would appear to be closed:

Round the corner to the Derby Hotel, oh dear; no signs of life and a for sale sign:

I'm getting a bit thirsty now.  Hidden in the back streets is the Masonic:

Thank goodness, it is open!  This place used to be a source of cask ale of sometimes dubious quality, today there were two handpumps but no clips so I was spared the quandary of should I risk it, and I was soon cooling my hands on a nice pint of fizz.  

Custom in this compact multi-room classic pub was a little sparse when I arrived, but more people appeared as I enjoyed my lager.

The friendly barmaid had to guide me to the gents despite its location being obvious.

Down to the town's main road, to the Dealers Arms:

This pleasant two-sided boozer is beautifully decorated inside, and well maintained.  Nothing like the run down place I was expecting.  (Having written that I checked the notes in the guide from my 2017 visit and it says "pleasant decor" so clearly I should have known.)

Another cool Carling was soon refreshing me.

There were two other customers with me in the lounge side and a number in the bar as well, from where I could hear gentle conversation.

I looked around.  This really is a superior example of the "ordinary boozer", everything is just right, and there are a lot of places out there that could take lessons from the Dealers.

I headed along St Mary's Road to the Mariners:

This one is wonderfully busy, what a contrast to the Dealers.  The barmaid, serving two customers at once, apologised that it was cash only in here and quickly provided another Carling.  In fact, it was one she was already pouring, so I'm guessing I jumped ahead of one of the regulars who hadn't actually finished his previous pint yet.  Bar staff skills indeed.

I found a corner to sit in and enjoy the atmosphere of a true locals' boozer, loud cheerful chatter drowning out the muzac.

Some of the regulars were watching the racing on the telly, but most were just concentrating on a friendly Saturday afternoon booze up.

This place brought back memories of pub surveys in the 1990s, lots of cheerful people at various stages of inebriation.  One lad returned from the gents or a smoke break and couldn't find his drink.  "You're on that table" was the cry, and he was soon back in the correct seat.

I headed a few yards down the road to the George, one I expected to be closed and it was:

As I snapped the photo I was hit by a couple of raindrops and only seconds later I was in a torrential downpour complete with lightning and thunder.  I quickly hid in a bus shelter which was OK until some idiot drove at speed through the puddle in the gutter, soaking me up to the knees.  Technically that is "driving without due care and attention" but I doubt anyone has been punished for it in recent years, if ever.

Eventually the storm cell passed and I was able to walk a few yards to the next pub, the Swan:

This place retains the classic layout inside, the lounge room is served from a hatch in the bar back across a drinking corridor.

Again, it was busy with friendly regulars, I sat and dripped in a quiet corner.  The tellies were reporting loss of satellite signal, presumably due to the weather, so the only sound track was multiple conversations.

Another classic boozer, this one with an historic interior, well cared for and popular.

My limited view out of the window suggested it was throwing it down again, so I dawdled over my fourth Carling in the hope that things would dry up.  Someone put Wish You Were Here on the jukebox, enough to keep me here, and the satellite telly recovered.  Why are we watching formula one warm-ups instead of Ashes cricket?  The answer is that the cricket is rained off.  I had considered staying at home today and listening to Test Match Special, I'm glad I didn't.

There's one more pub in Garston so it would be foolish to leave just one behind.  The New Wellington:

A brief crisis when, having snapped a photo on leaving the Swan and then walked to the Welly, I found the camera had locked up.  Standing like an idiot in the street, thank goodness the rain had stopped, I fiddled to no avail and then changed the batteries.  With new cells it sprang into life and I got my picture.

I headed in to yet another busy lively locals' boozer, again nicely decorated and well cared for.  In the crowded interior I managed to find a table in a quiet-ish corner to drink my fifth Carling and make my notes.

I've got a recollection that last time I was in here, "only" four years ago, I was monitoring the progress of some cricket, so it is fitting that just after I arrived play finally started at Headingley.  The TVs I could see were showing horses and footie, so the internet was my source of updates.  D'oh, just one over and then rained off again!  Something caught my ear, "118 for 4" said someone, I wasn't the only one monitoring!

Soon, all the TVs had football on, don't they have a summer break?  England vs Spain.  I gradually realised that quite a few of the people in the pub were watching, with groans and cheers as appropriate.

Time for me to head for home, I think.  It's good to be wrong sometimes:  Last night I was telling some friends that I was going to do Garston tomorrow and how horrible the pubs would be.  Rubbish, of course, and I've enjoyed some classics here; the only negative of the day has been getting soaked, all the pubs have been great.

Pub of the day: The Swan, for the architecture.

Beer of the day: Carling

Miles walked: 1.75

Maybe coming soon: Haydock