National Inventory Pub Crawling: Scotland

Scotland was probably the biggest single geographic area that we had not ventured into, so we were delighted when a Heineken Cup tie between Gloucester and Edinburgh gave us an excuse to spend a long weekend up there.

It's obviously a long way up to Scotland from the Cotswolds, whence we started, so it made sense to break up the journey with a stop-off in Cumbria for lunch. Our first port of call, the Ring O'Bells in Kendal, is one of the pubs in the new Good Beer Guide National Inventory listings, although it wasn't listed in the original book. A typical urban pub at first glance, it has a tiny "bellringers' snug" that connects both entrance lobbies, with two other large drinking rooms with a connecting bar, populated by friendly locals. A pint of Wychwood Hobgoblin and a pint of Black Sheep Bitter came to £3.30; my Hobgoblin wasn't great, but it was changed without a quibble and the new barrel was much better. We elected not to sample the third beer on offer (Greene King Abbott).

From there we took a scenic drive over to The Blacksmiths Arms at Broughton Mills. This is a Grade II-listed National Inventory pub, a lovely old building in which absolutely nothing is quite square or straight in any of the various drinking and dining rooms or their connecting passages. The interior is very rustic, with one room filled with lovely settles and worn wooden tables. There were some very good snowscape photos on the wall which we admired as we sampled our first beers before settling on the low benches in the main bar, next to a welcoming log fire. A half of Black Sheep Bitter with a pint of Scafell Blonde (from the Heskey Newmarket Brewery) came to £3.00. The Black Sheep wasn't at its best, but the pint(s) of Scafell Blonde were very good, although not quite to my taste.

Due to the amount of heavy rain (and traffic) we were driving through, we cancelled our plan to visit a Glasgow pub, and battled our way further north across 12 miles of flooded roads up to Drymen, where we had arranged to stay with family friends of Andy's.

We started our Scottish tour in earnest on Friday with a leisurely, scenic drive over to Aberdeen (once past Perth we left all the rain and flooding behind), and a visit to The Grill, a Category B-listed National Inventory pub. Based on the Salons of the great Atlantic Liners, the pub has a simple but attractive interior consisting of one big basic room with a bar along one side and seating along the other; it has lovely wooden bar fittings and an impressive ceiling with a carved oval ceiling rose. Its entry in the 2007 Good Beer Guide was certainly justified by the two excellent beers we sampled, a pint each of Caledonian 80/- and Yorkshire Terrier costing £4.55. The pub is popular, and was filled with a large gang on their way to an office Christmas party with a James Bond theme, hence a surfeit of DJs and bow ties - including, to my astonishment, a Scottish offshore pipelines expert with whom I've worked at BSI.

From Aberdeen it was a longish sprint to Dundee where we had three National Inventory pubs to visit, of which the first was the Category B-listed Clep. The Clep was designed in 1941 and comprises a small, comfortable (if cold) lounge with a narrow door to the bar and a second door with a hatch window to the original off-sales area, and a no-frills, sparsely decorated (but warm!) main bar; service bells are dotted around the lounge and the bar seating areas. The main bar had a small TV in one corner but was essentially somewhere people could go to chat. We enjoyed looking round, but the pub doesn't sell real ale, although in the interests of not appearing rude we sampled the keg McEwans 70/- and 80/- between us, and I was fascinated to see the barman use the back of a knife to smooth the froth off the top of the beer. The things we do in the name of research!

We were rather luckier with the beer at the Speedwell, where we had a perfectly good half each of Deuchars and Godfathers at a total cost of £2.30. The Speedwell, again listed Category B, dates back to 1903; rather pretentious at first glance, it quickly became obvious that it’s a popular local with real warmth to it. There is a long L-shaped bar with an ornate screen dividing the main bar into two drinking areas. The ceiling-high bar back is totally filled with almost a hundred different whiskies. This room has an over-ornamented ceiling, whilst two further lounge areas have William Morris-style wallpaper and glass partitions in between them, and a remarkably narrow door to the Ladies. The decor was slightly let down by the run-down state of the ceiling tiles in the lounges.

Our final stop in Dundee, and last of the day, was just down the hill at the unlisted Tay Bridge bar, a strange place with two completely separate bars that feel almost like separate pubs knocked into one, although they are given a consistent feel by having wood panelling throughout. There is a lounge bar to one side of the right-hand bar, and a tiny (Bury St Edmunds Nutshell-sized) saloon off the football-oriented left-hand bar with a hatchway through to the bar; the character of the two bars is quite distinct. Unfortunately, this was another non-real-ale pub, although there is a lot of local history displayed on the walls. We only stayed for a quick half of Guinness (whilst I made my notes) as we had a roast dinner awaiting us back in Stirlingshire.

We left promptly on Saturday morning to ensure that we could be outside our first port of call at its 11:30 opening time. The Category C-listed Railway Tavern at Kincardine is an absolutely amazing place and is well worth a visit despite having no real ale. It is a real survival of bygone times, a tiny place hidden away in a terrace with no sign at the southernmost tip of the town, a relic from the old ferry port days. The tiny bar had an open fire burning and is furnished with old bus seats either side of a plain table, with just enough space either side for a bit of leg room; the walls are decorated with old photos and a notice about the ferry dating back to 1833 before the Kincardine Bridge was built. The landlord was very friendly and chatty; telling us that he represented the fourth generation of his family to run the pub, which was previously known as the Ferry Inn, and has been licensed for at least 200 years. He also showed us the two other public rooms, both sparsely furnished and evidently not in common use. In such surroundings I didn't find it too much of a hardship to work my way through a sociable pint of Tennents Special 70/- (£2.07), and then to sample a drop of the Tennents 60/-, a rather rare mild.

After this detour we went straight to Edinburgh where we found our hotel without too much difficulty, parked the car, met up with friends (over a ropey, pricey pint of Guinness), and caught a taxi to the starting point for a semi-organised pub crawl around the National Inventory pubs of the city centre. As usual on such trips we started with the furthest pub first: Leslie's Bar, listed Category B and dating back to 1899. It's quite a big pub and has a bar which is open on one side and has serving hatches (described in the National Inventory as "ticket-booth openings") on the other. To the left-hand end of the bar is a drinking room with wooden panelling and comfy seats, with a similar one diagonally opposite by the right-hand side entrance; the low bar divide has some lovely stained glass. We put the drinking room to good use with a four-pint round costing £10; between us we sampled Winter Fire (I didn't note the brewery), Strathaven Light Ale and Caledonian Deuchars IPA (which was to become a bit of a theme), and there were a couple of other ales also available, plus a few bottled German beers. I was somewhat startled by a full-length door mirror in the Ladies here!

Our group had grown to 17 by this point, including several Gloucestershire CAMRA committee members (plus one from the Glasgow branch). We timed our saunter towards our next stop brilliantly, if you wanted to do a Danny Kaye impression. We only popped into the Rutherfords briefly, as eight of our group refused to stop in a keg-only pub. An interesting-looking place, listed in the National Inventory Appendix, the years haven't been kind to it; a benign neglect permeates the place, inside and out, and the amount of dust added to the poor state of the fabric meant that a cursory glance around both sparsely furnished rooms (while a couple of the guys used the Gents) was enough to soak up the unhappy vibe of the place. The barman certainly didn't seem keen to welcome us, looking like he'd passed the old Courage Brewery Charm course with flying colours; but then again, a rather loud "this was a good boozer twenty-four years ago" comment in a Glaswegian accent hadn't helped break the ice, and I thought it was rather rude of people to use the toilet without buying a drink. We moved quickly on, despite the rain.

Our next stop was a gem: the Half-Way House is not a National Inventory pub, and wasn't in our original itinerary, but was recommended to us by several of the gang. Only three minutes and a few score steps up from (but south of) Waverly Station, it's one of the best real ale pubs in the city. It's quite a small place with a curved bar and an L-shaped seating area, and it was already busy when we got there. However, we did manage to get a seat and were able to sample all four beers between us: a pint each of Houston Kellellan Bitter, Swannay Scapa Special, Belhaven 70/- and Kelburn Dark Moor came to a total of £10 and all were in excellent condition. We also took the opportunity to get some much-needed food, and were impressed with the landlady's willingness to cook a non-standard meal for Andy, who is allergic to mushrooms (which featured in all of the dishes on the menu). Much hilarity ensued when the meals were served with the words "and which of you was the man with the special sausage?"

Things were going well (second pints all round) until the head of Scottish CAMRA turned up and persuaded most of the group to join them on their "annual curry night" with sessions at their latest pub of the year. As it was way off our route we politely declined, although it was funny when he said "but we have some special guest beers on; Courage Directors, Fullers London Pride and Adnams Broadside" - not the sort of stuff we wanted to drink after such a long haul north.

Down to a gang of five, we left the Half-Way House semi-reluctantly but eager to press on with the tour, which led us down through the station and up onto Princes' St, 100 yards east and then left to find the Guildford Arms. Again, this one isn't in the National Inventory, but in this case I really couldn't see why not, with its impressive fixtures and fittings, including an ornate ceiling and lovely wooden bar surround, a "dress circle" gallery restaurant to the right, and a revolving entrance door that only admits one person at a time. The pub had eight real ales available (with space for another three), from which I chose a superb Orkney Dark Island while the others tried Cairngorm Gold and Steward Copper Cascade; I decided not to sample the Greene King XX Mild, although I was delighted to see a GK beer other than IPA so far north.

Next door to the Guildford (at the back) is the Category A-listed Cafe Royal, a late-Victorian gin palace listed in the National Inventory for its ornate decor and fantastic tile pictures. There were four real ales here; we'd all had Deuchars, Directors and Caledonian 80/- too many times before, so we ordered five pints of Batemans Rosey Nosey (total cost £13) from the rather imposing circular bar in the centre of the room, before wandering round admiring the pictures, which are all of famous pioneers including Watt and Stephenson. The dining room was closed, but a friendly member of the bar staff let us in to see more tiled pictures (including two ships) and some impressive stained glass above the bar area.

Westwards onto Rose St and the Category B-listed Abbotsford, our next National Inventory pub, which also has a central island bar, with impressive wooden fittings. Again, there were four real ales on offer; I had a very good Keburn Red Smiddy, the others trying Broughton Winter Fire and Atlas Blizzard, and noticed that this was yet another pub where none of the beers were nationals. We spent a pleasant half hour here talking cricket with an Australian chap by the bar, but we nearly didn't get in at all; the bouncers were stopping "gangs" of more than four people. However, they kindly let us in together when we explained that we were visiting Edinburgh's historic pubs.

We then moved on to the Kenilworth, which is listed in the National Inventory Appendix as only part of the current pub was felt to be worthy of an entry. The building overall is still listed Category B, though. My notes got a bit garbled at this point, as we met up here with eight friends who’d found this pub several hours earlier and had set about trying all five real ales on offer. Another large central bar dominates the single room, with some rather startling turquoise ceiling and ornate tiles. I had a pint of Caledonian Santa's Little Helper before unwisely sampling a strong German bottled beer, the name of which I didn't write down.

It was rather a shame that I was so plastered by this stage, because the next pub was the one I'd been particularly looking forward to: the Oxford Bar, another Category B-listed pub, now immortalised in Ian Rankin's Inspector Rebus novels. The pub comprises two simple, unfussy, sparsely decorated rooms. The bar itself is small and was rather squashed, but we considered ourselves lucky just to have got in (now being a gang of 11); we talked rugby with the locals whilst getting drinks before moving up some steps to a quieter area with tables and chairs, a very basic room with a completely different ambience to the bar. I didn't note what I was drinking here (although I was offered the choice between something from Edinburgh Brewing and Belhaven 80/- later on) - I was too busy writing rude remarks to the people who were commenting on my wobbly handwriting! I do remember that the beer was in very good condition, thus we’d stayed for a second. Two of our colleagues were mortified to discover that our previous stop (and where they'd spent an enjoyable few hours) was a known gay pub; much hilarity ensued when they explained that the concierge of their hotel had recommended it as a good place to meet some friendly locals!

Our final stop of the evening was H.P. Mathers, which is not in the published National Inventory but is in the new NI listing in the Good Beer Guide. Whilst waiting to be served, we noticed that the beer wasn’t in great condition, and as it was the (by now) usual Deuchars and Caledonian, we opted for a round of halves, at £4.62 (we were just a gang of 4 at this juncture). Quite a friendly bunch of locals in the bar here - the pub has just one big room, with wooden bar fittings - and we had good fun chatting to them before staggering to the nearest taxi rank.

We couldn't leave Edinburgh with a National Inventory pub unvisited, so after the rugby on Sunday afternoon we made our way to Bennet's Bar, listed Category B and built in 1891. We paid £5.20 for a pint each of Deuchars IPA and Caledonian 80/-, both of which were in excellent condition, before spending 20 minutes studying the elaborate interior of the pub. There’s one big lofty bar with a wooden bar back and integral clock. The eight tables are particularly impressive, each with an inset ordnance survey map of differing parts of Scotland under clear glass. The walls are covered in ornate tiles depicting classical figures, and a passageway at the end of the bar has elaborate painted murals around the doors and on the walls. There is a tiny narrow side-door to an off-sales area (we weren't sure if it was still in use), and some impressive stained glass on the front entrance doors and windows. An amazing place and a great end to the Edinburgh leg of the trip.

After leaving Edinburgh we drove back to Drymen at a reasonably leisurely pace, and went for a meal at the Clachan Inn, a pub in the village that claims to be the oldest licensed premises in Scotland. The pub was pretty nondescript, with a loud tartan carpet in the restaurant bar, and no real ale available. The food was superb though; I had a steak with haggis and whisky cream sauce that cost a whopping £16.95 but was worth the expense.

Monday morning saw us preparing for the long trip back down south, but before crossing the border we visited two of Glasgow's four National Inventory pubs, all of which are listed Category B. The Horse Shoe is a huge place, with a central island bar that is claimed to be the longest continuous bar in Europe, and a lot of built-in seating with leather upholstery. A pint of Caledonian XPA and a half of Harviestoun Good King Legless cost us £3.08. There is a lot to look at here including an indoor stained glass ceiling panel with a horseshoe design, a big cast iron horse statue above the bar, and drinking slogans painted around the inside bar rail and the side walls of the room; but in case you get bored with looking at the pub, there are a few TV screens dotted about - Andy counted at least ten of them. A great place for cheap, basic meals, and we seemed to be the only people there for the beer!

Informed by a local that our next intended stop, Sloan’s, was currently shut with an uncertain future, we headed over to Glassford Street and the Steps Bar. This looks very unappealing from the outside, with only a 70s-style lettered red and white sign indicating that it's a public building. Inside, the interior dates back to 1938; it's reminiscent of a working man's club, sparsely furnished but full of odd, period detailing, and physically very warm with a large heater above the door. There was no real ale here but I wanted to sit down and make some notes, so I had a Guinness. The tables are unusual: oval-shaped with a small shelf underneath on each side that's just the right height and width for a glass. The pub has a small narrow lounge to one side with a stained glass window showing the Queen Mary (then newly built), and another picture of the ship in copper relief; the ship theme is continued with wooden mast-shaped pillars at either end of the bar. I was surprised but pleased when the slightly taciturn barman turned on the light in the side room to enable us to see the pictures more clearly.

After leaving the Steps we hit the motorway and headed to Carlisle to round off the weekend. The first Carlisle pub we visited, the Redfern, is another one in the new GBG National Inventory listing. There was no real ale here and it was all I could do to stay in the room for the five minutes it took me to down an orange juice, as the stench of stale cigarette smoke was overpowering (and all the more noticeable after a smoke-free weekend in Scotland). However, I did observe some lovely wood panelling, and interesting carvings below the bar (there are two main bars). The Redfern, named after its architect, is one of those rare pubs that has its own bowling green, which is visible through a curtained-off snug reminiscent of a commentary box.

The Cumberland Inn, our final National Inventory pub of the weekend, also designed by Redfern, dates back to 1929-30 and is listed Grade II; it has an open layout with impressive oak panelling and a stained glass ceiling panel above the bar area. This is a loud pub, with bands or DJs at the weekends, and it wasn't exactly quiet at Monday teatime. The landlord (who is a very nice man, or so he told us!) evidently takes a lot of pride in the pub's history, and we noticed a local newspaper article, dating back to 2003 when the pub was first listed in the NI, in a frame on the wall. He clearly knows what he's doing with his beer as well, as we had what was probably the best Deuchars IPA of the weekend here - bright and clear. A half of Deuchars and a pint of Black Sheep bitter cost £3.30, and I would have happily stayed for another if I hadn't had a train to catch.

One thing that particularly struck me about all the Scottish pubs was the friendliness of the locals. We had heard all sorts of scare stories about attitudes to southerners, but almost without exception we found the local people to be chatty, interested, and full of information about where visitors could go to eat and drink well (although football tops are banned in most of the city centre pubs). There was one unpleasant, aggressive guy in one of the Edinburgh pubs who was out solely to get drunk and cause hassle, but the overwhelming impression I had was of a very welcoming place, and I hope that I'll have a chance to go back and revisit many of these pubs. The quality of the beer in Edinburgh was notably good (almost as good as Liverpool), and well worth sampling, even if you may struggle to pronounce the name of your intended tipple in several of the pubs!

Sophie Watson

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