Category: Railway

Blimey, this place looked forbidding from across the road. Even early on a gloomy, wet Sunday evening, when the nastiest, most hostile boozers give off a promising, golden glow, this place looked drab and unwelcoming. I wasn’t much looking forward to seeing inside, but we had a spare half an hour before we were supposed to arrive at the party and there wasn’t an obvious alternative. Besides, science dictated that I was going to have to come here sometime.

It’s not well-decorated, the Railway Tavern, with fairly standard issue pub nick-nacks around the rag-roll nicotine walls. The lady behind the bar looked distinctly unimpressed with us and grumpily served us our pints of Eagle. What you’ve read so far is the sum of all the criticisms I could find of the place. Everything else was just about right. The Eagle we drank was delicious, it was comfortable sitting down, but it seemed like it’d have been just as good to stand by the bar. The juker was playing old country hits, and I know this is a special area of interest for me but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to be singing along to “Take Me Home, Country Roads”. My fellow singers seemed tolerant to the point of friendly and we would very happily have spent a few hours stretching out and bending our elbows.

There’s often a good moment on a Sunday evening, which I think our visit hit precisely. The match on the telly has ended and most of the watchers have gone home, leaving a handful of stragglers and boozers, those intent on continuing to celebrate their victory, or those made too miserable by defeat to think about moving on just yet. It feels like the pub is yawning and dusting itself down, it’s a little calm before we all begin the slow descent to a Sunday evening skinful. The elephant named “Work Tomorrow” has wandered into the bar room, but hasn’t yet begun to trumpet. Take a deep breath, and enjoy it. It’s your turn to go to the bar.

Overall mark: 7/10