Pubs as the only restaurant in town in suburban satelite “villages”. My sister live is a dormitory town – that’s the only way to describe it. A development (you would never call it an estate) of new developments out in leafy H[…]

Pubs as vital social organs in villages. This Guardian story is heart warming stuff (unless you are the landlord in question of course) – though it is tainted by the hand of CAMRA a touch. It does put in mind the idea though that a country pub […]

A quick perusal of Steve’s guide to our trip to Brussels will unearth the odd reference to that old favourite subject of the Publog. The Pub Nutter. Over the case of our bar slouch (not pubs, not crawling) we came across three of this breed. Al[…]

Once upon a time four publogger went to Brussels and drank lots of lovely beer. This is their story. Thought i’d put it there rather than here as it is rather long, and i haven’t updated my bl*g for almost nine months innit…[…]

Ahem. The counsel for the defence says: I would have loved to be sitting close enough to the ashtray in order to use it. Or indeed to have been sitting at all in a very crowded pub on a Saturday night in the centre of town. It is far more antisocial […]

I have now lived in the drab world of the non-smoker for two long and sorry years. I promised myself when I gave up that I would not become one of those dreadful converts, whining about their clothes stinking of cigs after five minutes in the pub (of[…]

Ah happy daiz. I used to work in a dodgy Local Pub which catered to Local Squaddies, visitors from surrounding more middle clarse villages for our ‘3.99 meals (extremely good value if I say so myself and OOH the curly cumberland sausage –[…]

Under New Management! One thing we haven’t really talked a whole lot about here on the Publog is the tricky art of being a landlord. We can bang on about the decor and beers on tap all we like, but in the end it is the management who really giv[…]

The other new pub to visit on the Euston Hexagon after the (yet again visited at the weeked for ruin) Dun-A-Ri was The Boot. The Boot from the outside is a quaint little place just off of Judd Street. Painted green, with darkish windows and a cute al[…]

The Dun-A-Ri – yes that is an Irish name and hence it has been given the epitaph of The Irish Bar. High praise indeed to be given the definite article in a city full of Irish pubs after all. However it is more an echo of The Spanish Bar (which […]