"What in the name of holy God is this awful noise?," I asked my friend.

Taking off my mirrored 2009 Beer Goggles to rub them on my frosty Bath Ales bar towel seems as good a point as any to look back on this journey so far.

And looking back through my reports of visits to a number of pubs, as well as the news files, suggests I have picked up on a battle raging, often underground, in the pub sector - between the corporate big boys, the McPubs, and a cherished English tradition which goes back centuries. Even in a sober moment, it does not seem overly dramatic to say this is a struggle which will transform an important part of the fabric of daily life...

A corporate pub in full fizzle, popular and profitable, often puts me in mind of that lie used by soured lovers the world over: it's not you, it's me.

To give one example, and as the North Devon Journal has already reported, The North Country Inn will re-open as a bar and food place. Nothing wrong with that. In March 2009 I blogged about why I thought that pub, the oldest in town and a handsome building with great cosy pub potential, had not thrived, to say the least.

What about our historical pubs, with their cosy corners and dusty shelves? What about the landlord or landlady who can make a living over a number of years without being squeezed to death by the money wizards? What about local character? These are questions addressed by Camra's latest battle with the OFT (see link earlier this month).

The truth is that when I'm somewhere like the Water Gate, which is the new Wetherspoon's pub on the Strand in Barnstaple, North Devon, I think what those soured lovers are really thinking: it's not me, it's you. And the customer is always right. Right?

Well, that rubs all ways, doesn't it? The gin palaces which have come to dominate English towns are popular, much as I, a pub fanatic, dislike them.

It was 8.30pm on a dank midwinter weekday when I arrived at the Water Gate to meet friends. They had got there before me and were half-way through pints of Christmas ales. I stood at the bar for what felt like half my lifetime while the barstaff, presumably new, tried to cope. As before, I had walked past a few almost-empty local boozers on my way to investigate an unvisited pub. The Water Gate was thrumming.

The beer was good. It always is in a Wetherspoon pub. They do beer like Ronald McDonald does burgers. Consistency is the thing.

But the consistency of the ale quality is mirrored in consistency in everything else; that is what happens with big business, a hangover from the industrial revolution, and manufacturing. The problem is that consistency in a business so closely tied to emotion, community, alcohol, and history can lead to blandness.

A pub should never be bland. A good pub can be cheap, and I believe Wetherspoon's decor and signage are always the epitome of corporate cheapness, in appearance if not in actual cost - but cheap with character.

We took our Christmas ales, which now all have unfunny-funny names like Santa's Testes or Christ Froth, to a table near the dancefloor. A dancefloor. My friends seemed intent on being near the horrific clatter.

"What in the name of holy God is this awful noise?," I asked my friend.

"This is Beyonce," he replied.

It was a name I had read in the broadsheet newspapers and heard on the tongues of excitable radio Five Live presenters. Bee-on-say. But I had before then managed to avoid ever hearing her at full tilt and volume. This was a new and cruel punishment for the privileged western man, I realised. Which sinister backroom broiler dreamed into reality this nightmare? I sipped my Sleighbell Shagger, or whatever it was called, and pondered the scene.

Men in smart slacks with hairstyles were dancing to bee-on-say, trying to lure pretty young women, also with hairstyles. A reasonable human endeavour, of course, but the music prevented Pub Conversation. I felt like I was in the airport lounge of a disturbed and restless outpost. This was not a time and place for men to discuss the finer points of life and death and sport and soured love affairs.

A Hamlet-y blanket of gloom: When is a pub not a pub? To pub or not to pub? But is that the question? After all, people were wedding-dancing and to my trained journalist's eyes they seemed to be having a fine old jig of it. Only a Scrooge would complain about that.

After all this, it is fair to say my love of the traditional English pub is conservative and old-fashioned in some ways but perhaps also chimes with a climate-change enforced future of modest living and a focus on local production and small communities.

The Water Gate is also conservative and old-fashioned in some ways: it provides cheap booze (responsibly, of course), loud music and lots of space to pack in the punters, much as the gin palaces of Victorian era (silly buggers like me complained about them too). The town now has two town centre Wetherspoon's.

Corporate alehouse. Traditional pub. Where is the harm in either type? My theory is that places like the Water Gate draw custom from individual and historical local pubs, which are superior in character and atmosphere and which are something to cherish. They also prevent the resurrection of that type of pub purely because there is only so much beer money to go around in a small town.

In many ways, it's too late. Barnstaple's oldest pub, the North Country Inn, was empty for months after the pub company and/or its tenants were unable to make it thrive. As I say, I have blogged about my visit there during its last, desperate, hours; it was like visiting a dear old relative in a hospice.

There is, however, a good way to improve your pub environment: choose wisely where to spend your money. When there is only one type of pub left, you will not have that privilege.

This battle could really change your pub...

http://www.camra.org.uk/page.aspx?o=whatsnew1

INTERLUDE: snippets from the pub world in North Devon and Torridge...

The North Devon Journal and http://www.thisisnorthdevon.co.uk/ has all the best news about the pubs in your community. Here are two key recent snippets:

• At the Union Inn at Stibb Cross, near Torrington, Nigel Harris, his wife Sue and his daughters, Tracy and Beverley, who took over the pub in the summer are trying to provide an extra community service. After the recent closure of the shop in nearby Langtree, villagers were having to travel as far as Milton Damerel or Holsworthy. So Nigel and Sue want to convert the pub’s storage room into a shop selling basic provisions such as bread, milk and newspapers. Nigel, a former haulage driver turned publican, is hopeful it will open in January. He has applied for planning permission to Torridge District Council to change the use of the room. He said: “We’re hoping the pub and community shop will work well together because there is nothing else around here to get these sorts of things. “There has been a lot of community support for the idea and so we thought we would try it and see how it goes.” Good luck to the Harris family. Great idea.


• The owner of a local Chinese restaurant has taken over the North Country Inn on Mermaid Walk in Barnstaple. Businessman James Li, who owns the Fullam restaurant in Tuly Street, plans to turn the Grade II-listed town centre pub into a cocktail bar and Asian restaurant. Restoration work will probably take six months, Mr Li said. The North Country Inn was one of the oldest pubs in Barnstaple when it closed its doors in spring this year. The pub company who owned it, Enterprise Inns, then put the building on the market. The pub, which was already established by 1764, had been with a number of leaseholders and struggled to attract customers immediately before it closed. Good luck to James but I'm sad the oldest pub in Barnstaple is nothing more than a memory.

INTERLUDE: Twitter

I'll be tweeting about beer and pubs, among other things, in a personal capacity, on Twitter and you can become a follower at http://twitter.com/ADAMWILSHAW

Gales, sewage, and a giant plastic shark - searching for pub nirvana in Bideford

A powerful tang of raw sewage was huffing about in the gale on Bideford quay as we got off the bus.

We were already bilious from sitting on the back row during the 40-minute journey from Barnstaple as the storm rocked the vehicle like a dinghy at sea.

There were bits of trees on the road, at least one road traffic accident, and a wintry sense of peril. The BBC news had hysterically told everybody to stay indoors. 

On the quay I guessed the heavy rain had caused a sewer to overflow somewhere nearby. Gagging, we pulled our coats over our noses and ran up a hill, searching for an inn with buxom serving wenches, log fires, and an old man abusing a squeezebox.

The rain-lashed streets were empty save for an occasional quartet of teenage boys who stared hard. They probably knew we weren't local. We marched on with a shared dim memory of a decent pub "over there" "near the pannier market".

When we found our destination, The Joiners Arms, it was closed and didn't look like it was going to open (see picture above).

Back downhill.

There were about a dozen punters in Lacey's. I asked for a pint of Firefly bitter and a middle-aged man barfly with the determined look of a man after a smile from a stranger by any means necessary said: "Where's it gone? Where's the firefly? Ha! It's gone! See - I got a smile, didn't I? Didn't I? Where's the firefly?".

We took our pints to a far table. My friend had a pint of Black Boar, a chewy stout. The Firefly was refreshing and light and typical of O'Hanlan's. There was a choice of Country Life Brewery ales on offer (Mr Lacey is Mr Country Life). Despite the exceptional range of beers, I found the place itself on the uncosy side - bright and cool like a European bar or a cafe at a large railway station. Nothing wrong with that but just in a different category to a certain type of traditional English pub. 

Our next stop was the best pub of the evening - The Kings Arms on the quay. As soon as we crossed the threshold we were welcome and cheered. Wood. Low ceilings. Beams. Tankards on hooks. Pictures of old boats. Tasselled lampshades. A snug. Conversations. A proper local. No buxom wenches, but you can't have everything on a platter like a fat old king.

My notes record my friend saying his pint of Grenville's Renown, made by the local Jollyboat Brewery, has "a bit of fragrance", and is "quite uplifting compared to the Black Boar. "It's giving me a new reason to live," he apparently then said.

My pint of Exmoor was crafted - velvety with a little bite - calmer and more quaffable than the stronger locally-ubiquitous bottled version.

We then made the courageous error of leaving the Kings Arms to see if there were any other good pubs nearby.

Moments later, stars were collapsing in unknown galaxies as the icecaps melted, and on far-off continents the future dreamweavers of humanity were being born. We, meanwhile, were in Crabby Dick's.

What else can you say about a public house with a giant plastic shark hanging nose-down from the ceiling?

Other threatening creatures became apparent as we took our pints to one of those tall tables with tall stools you get in fastfood takeaways.

The music was horrific tin clatter. There were no cask ales so I had something billed as Guinness and my unlucky pal had some sort of weird-tasting keg bitter. Both scoops were on the wrong side of the line of acceptability, but were just about drink-able, as are many time-wasting beverages.

There were a group of large bouncers on the door but we didn't see any bloodshed. Maybe we were too early.

Someone was nearby wearing a perfume that reminded me of something fatally medicinal...

My notebook records my thoughts in Crabby Dick's thus: "Plastic sharks. My Guinness like watered-down Marmite."

We threw ourselves back into the rainy night and tramped around, looking for ale nirvana. I noticed at least two welcoming little restaurants, which seemed to be busy, but no obvious signs of pubtopia. I bet the two Wetherspoon's pubs in Barnstaple were rammed to the rafters.

Our next potential port of call was dangerously near the squally sewage-scented quay, but bravely we pushed on.

We found Quigley's. We peered in the windows; empty. 10pm on a Friday night. Faintly demoralised, and slightly faint, we walked back up another hill. A string of lights twinkled romantically by the river.

In the shopping area we found the Heavitree Arms, which from the outside looked like an unspoiled, old-fashioned boozer. Could this be the hidden gem we desired on this odyssey?

The music was loud-ish, the ambiance was intangible and the beer tasted of pipe-cleaning disinfectant. We drank about three mouthfuls and left, too lazy to complain.

And that was our pub crawl. Sewage, a brilliant alehouse, a giant plastic shark, a closed boozer, an empty boozer. Beer that tasted like disinfectant. That all sounds a bit honest and realistic and, yes, true and fair.

The Kings Arms was good and it could be we just encountered Bideford on an off-night...

I do not claim we visited every single pub in the town. The Camra beer guide for 2010, which is fallible, recommends no pubs in Bideford.

As we waited at the dark wet bus-stop shortly after 11pm, again eyeballed by a scowling gang of boys, I was thinking that Bideford is a handsome and historically-fascinating town.

You should visit as soon as you can. Hopefully there is a splendid pub somewhere we missed. The good people of Bideford deserve nothing less.

Bideford Pub Crawl

Adam's Ale Rating: 1 out of 5 (the King's Arms deserves 4 out of 5)

Try This: The real ale in the King's Arms or Lacey's.

INTERLUDE: Nuggets from the local pub universe

ENGLISH PUB TURNED INTO AMERICAN THEMED BAR
A pub in Ilfracombe will be turned into an American-themed sports bar. The Queens Tardis Bar has been bought by Mike Khoo and will re-open on Saturday, December 19. Mr Khoo’s son-in-law, Jay O’Beirne, will manage the new pub. Jay said it would be renamed as Buddy’s Sports Bar, with a blue, red and white colour theme and grilled American food. I genuinely wish them well, but what's wrong with a proper old pub?

THIS IS WHAT PUB LANDLORDING IS ALL ABOUT
A pub landlord is doing a barrel run to raise money for South Molton Rugby Club. Paul Breese, of the Tiverton Inn, in East Street, will carry the 11 gallon barrel on Saturday, November 7, with a musical van and supporters. The run will start at 1.30pm from outside the inn, arriving at the rugby club for the start of Saturday’s game. As far as I know, the barrel will not be full of flaming tar but with pub landlords, you never know.

WHAT WILL THE FUTURE BRING FOR THIS 15TH CENTURY BOOZER?
A 15th century grade two listed Bideford pub is up for sale at £315,000. The Appledore Inn in Chingswell Street is a traditional "drinks-led" community pub that hosts regular quizzes and meat draws. I always think "meat draws" sounds like some kind of medieval torture: it's time for the meat draws for you, you errant lightbrain!

CELEBRITIES I'VE NEVER HEARD-OF HAVE GOOD TASTE IN PUBS AND BEER
A "celebrity" couple were believed be staying in North Devon, my newspaper tells me. Hornblower star Ioan Gruffudd and his actress wife Alice Evans, who appears in hit US series Lost, visited a pub in Mortehoe on Saturday and Sunday with their baby daughter, who was born in September. The couple enjoyed a drink in the Chichester Arms on Saturday and Mr Gruffudd asked staff for a recommended ale. Wise barman Jamie Archer said: “They were very polite and friendly. I recommended Proper Job, an ale from St Austell.” Mr Gruffudd and his wife returned to the pub on Sunday and enjoyed lunch. They reportedly asked to have a bar mat to take away as a memento. Cheeky. Welsh-born Mr Gruffudd, 36, stars as Mister Fantastic in The Fantastic Four and also portrayed Tony Blair in the George Bush biographical film W. Alice Evans, 38, is best known for the character Eloise Hawkings in Lost. I have absolutely no idea who these people are, but Proper Job is a sublime scoop of ale, so well done Jamie.

FILL YOUR BELLIES, FILL YOUR BOOTS, BUT £2.50 SEEMS A BIT TOO CHEAP, EH?
A Combe Martin pub has launched a "winter warmer menu" for people struggling in the recession, with meals on offer for £2.50. The Castle Inn gives people a choice of 11 different meals for just £2.50. The offer, which runs everyday between midday and 9pm and will last until April, also includes any pint of your choice for an added £2.50. Good for him - playing the Wetherspoon's at their own game. I only hope he can win this round.

Is this yet another victory for big business against local communities?

One of the first rules of investigative journalism, thanks to Watergate, is: follow the money.

Well this blog is clearly a forge of investigative work, ahem, so now the Office of Fair Trading (OFT) has this week decided that the landlord-loathed "beer tie", which the pub-owning corporations use to boost their profits (or screw every last penny from their tenants, depending on your opinion) is absolutely fine, how did our loyal friends "the money markets" react?

Shares soared, of course. Because the tie is all about money and people who are all about money. It's not about your local boozer or your genial landlord pulling you a glorious pint of Exmoor Ale or Country Life's Golden Pig. It's not about working pubs which reflect history and community; it's about corporations, spreadsheets, boardrooms, and second homes in France. There are national, even international, margins which must be kept and must be kept to improve dividends.

The news wires are today, October 22, are reporting that shares in Enterprise, which owns loads of pubs round 'ere, gained 19% after the controversial OFT announcement, while Punch went up 12%, and Marston's jumped 4%.

The OFT told the national press in a statement: "The evidence indicates that consumers benefit from a good deal of competition and choice within this sector."

Of course there are universes of meaning within the apparently simple phrase "consumers benefit". Which consumers, how many, and how do they benefit?

My personal opinion, as a consumer who loves the benefits of the English pub with a passion, as I hope this blog shows, is that the tie is an outrage and a scandal. I know some North Devon landlords agree with me.

Camra, which brought a "super complaint" to the OFT, is now appealing to Lord Mandelson to intervene. Maybe like he did with the Post Office? Fat chance.

I'm not a member of Camra but I can only support its ongoing campaign to save the local pub. I hope one day we'll all accept that the pub is not a business like any other, it's a cornerstone of our culture, which shouldn't be subject to the cut-throat vagaries of the Alice in Wonderland stock market.

When it comes to Back Street Boozers, there is Good Ordinary and Bad Ordinary

The landlord stood behind the bar like the captain of a ship on a warm glassy sea.

No waves, no storms, no icebergs, no monsters, no theme nights, no McDonald's-isation, no pap music.

From the chill autumn evening we went into the Black Horse Inn with a draft of woodsmoke in the air behind us. Such a fine moment: crossing the threshold of an unvisited pub.

If my odyssey so far has taught me owt, answers on a pigeon, it's that there are back street boozers and there are back street boozers (BSBs); they are not all alike. The Black Horse, for example, is pleasingly ordinary. Although its history is said to go back 400 years, or so, the pub has not been preserved in amber or, shudder, Made To Look Old. It is homely without being over-domesticated; clean and tidy without being sterile. It smells invitingly of beer, rather than of stale human bodies, like some ale houses do these days.

There are BSBs which are dipso-magnets, who keep the fires burning with a certain high level of mutually-assured addiction, while others seem to exist on thin air, with never more than two, often fairly unusual, customers at any one time. The best type of BSBs are not like that; they are the ones like the Black Horse: unpretentious but still with a bit of character, friendly, with good beer. The landlord and the customers make the pub, not the decor, or the food menus, or the gardens, or the money wizards in offices on business parks.

When it comes to BSBs, as with any pub in fact, there are perhaps two main categories: Good Ordinary and Bad Ordinary. The Pubco chains, in particular, seem to do things on the cheap and without much soul; they are money people; they have a tendency to make pubs Bad Ordinary. In fact some of them have a tendency to try to knock pubs down and built nasty flats, but that's another story...

The pints of Otter served to our party of three at the Black Horse were poured by the "good captain" behind the bar straight from the cask. If, like me, you have yet to meet a beer which is too bitter, or too hoppy, you might share my feeling that Otter can, if the moon isn't right and you've slept badly, wash down a bit inspid. I was thinking, for comparison, of that superlative pint of Proper Job we had drank down (like lemonade it was so tasty) at the Corner House in Barnstaple the week before.

Still, so few pubs serve beer straight from casks, by gravity, it is always worth trying what is on offer.

We were there on a Friday evening at about 9pm and there were about eight other people there, all probably over the age of 50. There was no loud piped cack, so we could, you know, sit and, you know, TALK TO EACH OTHER! 

Why were noisier pubs in Braunton busier that night? Could be lots of reasons. I guess once upon a time the locals immediately near the tucked-away BSB Black Horse would have been slightly less wealthy than they are, at least in property terms, now. The pub has always been a refuge for the English man, and indeed woman, away from home. If home is your obsession, and indeed your money pit, perhaps you're more likely to stay in your over-decorated palace and drink wine from Tesco. Bit of a shot in the dark, that theory, and, to be honest, I have what can only be described as slight drunkenness and zero evidence to back it up. But that's what pubs are all about: thinking and then talking unsubstantiated rubbish without some do-right telling you to Fill In A Reality Form. Take away my Reality Form, I have a Theory! Particularly if the seas are calm - and the tiller's steady.

The Black Horse Inn, Braunton

Adam's Ales Rating: 4 out of 5

Drink This: See what's in the barrel behind the bar

Exmoor gastropub gets another trophy for the cabinet

The already many-garlanded Masons Arms in Knowstone, Exmoor, has been named Pub of the Year 2010 in the Michelin Eating Out in Pubs guide.

The 13th century inn, with a thatched roof and beamed bar, was originally three cottages built to house the masons as they constructed the village church of St Peter’s.

Chef-owner Mark Dodson spent 12 years as Michel Roux’s head chef at the three Michelin-starred Waterside Inn, Bray-on-Thames.

When the lure of country life proved too strong, Mark and his wife Sarah – who heads the charming front-of-house team – relocated to Devon with their three daughters; achieving a Michelin star for the pub a year later.

Masons Arms website

Is this the beginning of the end for the pubcos?

Media report today that Punch Taverns has called last orders on 300 of its under-performing premises.

Many of the pubs up for sale are expected to remain as licensed premises, although a "significant number" could be turned into housing or shops, PA is reporting. Punch Taverns, which has around 8,000 pubs in total, said the premises to be sold were from its "turnaround" division of struggling businesses.

Camra has already expressed fears that the sale will attract speculators.

Pubs get it in the neck again from the constabulary while the cost-cutting ultra-cheap booze merchant supermarkets don't get a mention

North Devon licensees say police are unfairly blaming them for alcohol-related problems in towns - while the cost-cutting supermarkets avoid similar scrutiny, the Journal reports.

Many landlords blame cheap booze deals at supermarkets for an increase over the past decade in severe drunkenness in the street, particularly among underage drinkers.

But the police are targeting nightspots which offer cheap promotional drinks offers in a new campaign.

Paul Netherton, the assistant chief constable of Devon and Cornwall police, has written thus to licensees: “We will take the strongest action possible against premises where promotions encourage people to drink as much as they like for a nominal fee.”

Under the Licensing Act 2003 police can close premises and seek a review of their licence if they are seen to be contributing to crime and disorder.

Barnstaple nightclub Toko offers various promotions, including three-for-one and 99p a drink offers. But staff at the club say they are extremely responsible licensees. They blame cheap supermarket alcohol for most of the problems.

Steven Ridge, manager of Toko, said: “We have very few incidents here and the vast majority of customers behave well and are simply looking for somewhere to have a good night out.

"We provide a safe environment for this and on the small number of occasions where people have had too much to drink, we will refuse to serve them and offer bottles of water instead and where possible help them get a taxi home.

"Most people, especially during these tough economic times, will drink to excess at home having bought alcohol from a supermarket — and once they are in the club we have to deal with the mess.

"I think this police clamp down is a good idea and hope to work closely with them to promote its success.”

Kevin Constantine, owner of both the Queen’s Tardis Bar and Chinese Whisper’s nightclub in Ilfracombe, also believes cheap supermarket alcohol is to blame.

He said: “You can walk into any supermarket and buy as much cheap alcohol as you like. If someone wants to get drunk they will do so — price doesn’t make any difference. We are currently in the process of putting our prices up and as of next week, when new owners take over, the cheapest pint will be £2.”

Kirsty Cresswell is the manager of Quigley’s Custom House in Bideford where between 4pm and 7pm a pint of lager costs £1.79 and cocktails are on a two-for-one offer.

Kirsty also believes licensing restrictions should apply to supermarkets as well as pubs. She said: “For the price of a pint in Quigley’s you can get six cans of lager at a supermarket — why aren’t they being policed like this?

"The current generation of 18 to 25-year-olds have more of a binge drinking culture than previous years. Most will drink at home, necking a lot of alcohol in a short space of time, then come to us and we are having to turn more and more people away at the door for being too drunk. Our drinks offers are monitored closely by our staff and door men and we support this police clamp down.”

It seems November 1976 was a low point for beer drinkers in Devon...

I blogged here a couple of weeks ago about a fascinating old photograph I found in a 50-year-old book, of a beer brewer in Cornwall, and I went on to speculate about a possible lost golden age of ultra-local ale brewing in the Westcountry, admittedly with scant evidence to bolster my daydreaming.

The book suggested that a thriving beer culture had been wiped out between 1909 and 1959 and replaced by big breweries or nothing at all. The situation then, perhaps, was much worse than it is now, with a number of micro breweries in places like Devon, and new ones starting up all the time (Forge in Hartland, Wizard in Ilfracombe; both making fine beer).

In the same vein, this week I dug out my old paperback copy of Richard Boston's Beer and Skittles, a superb work of journalism about beer and brewing. It was written in the mid-1970s, just as Camra was starting to make noises about the vandalism of our pubs and beer. This was the era when keg lager and keg "bitter" was in the ascendency. Older readers than me might remember something called Watney Red Barrel, perhaps?

In Boston's "pubman's gazetteer", written in November 1976, he says that Cornwall, Devon, Dorset and Somerset is "cider country" and "the area as a whole is low in choice as far as beer is concerned." He says Devon does not have a single independent brewery and most of the beer is Courage, Whitbread and Devenish. He says North Devon is "Watney country" and there are few pubs in West Devon because of the influence of the temperence movement there. Some 30 years later, we are clearly far better served with breweries, many of which have been established in the past 10 years or so. We could well be entering a new golden age of local beer...

Boston mentions the Blue Anchor, which I saw in my picture book, and says this: "Geoffrey Richards represents the third generation of his family to brew at the Blue Anchor, which was bought by his grandfather more than 100 years ago. There are two very strong Spingo bitters, as well as special strong brews at Christmas and Easter."

I am delighted, and relieved, to find the following on the Blue Anchor's website:

The Blue Anchor is one of the oldest original Inns in Britain that continues to maintain a working brewery. Dating back to the 15th century, the Inn boasts 600 years of brewing. Originally a monks' rest house, which produced a strong honey based mead, it now produces a variety of 'Spingo Ales' to traditional recipes.  

The Inn still retains its original character and has no slot machines or piped music. However, live music is often performed in the skittle alley or main bars.  A major feature of the Inn, is the large garden to the rear, with its own bar and BBQ.

Landlords Simon and Kim Stone have been custodians of the Inn since 1993 and have sympathetically improved the brewery, kitchen, skittle alley and beer garden without changing the character or appeal of the Inn.

Blue Anchor website

Pub fanatics name their favourite boozers in North Devon and Torridge...

The best pubs in North Devon — according to the votes of local real ale fans — have been revealed in a new guidebook.

The pubs are contained in the Campaign for Real Ale’s Good Beer Guide 2010, which is published today.

There are 19 inns, alehouses and pubs in North Devon and Torridge in the guide, as well as five local breweries.

In Barnstaple, two pubs are singled out for praise: The Panniers, in Boutport Street, and The Rolle Quay Inn, on Rolle Quay.

The Panniers is a popular town centre Wetherspoon’s pub, whose landlord is Alan Young. Camra and Wetherspoon’s have a friendly relationship nationally.

The pub giant gives all new and renewing Camra members £20 worth of real ale vouchers to spend in its pubs.

The St Austell Brewery-owned Rolle Quay, next to the River Yeo, is described as a “spacious, well-run, two bar pub” which is handy for the local rugby and football grounds. The landlord there, Chris Bates, is a previous local Camra Pub of The Year winner.

Camra describes its guide as a “masterpiece of local democracy”, because the entries are chosen by local Camra groups.

The guide states: “We begin with the beer. Not roses round the pub lintel, Turkish carpets, sun-dried tomatoes, drizzled olive oil and the temperature of the oak-aged Chardonnay. The guide is committed to pub architecture, history, food, and creature comforts. But, for us, the beer always comes first.

“It has always been our belief that if a publican looks after the cask beer in the cellar then everything else in the pub — from welcome, through food, to the state of the toilets — are likely to receive the same care.”

In April the North Devon Camra branch announced that the Hunters Inn in Heddon Valley was its pub of the year, closely followed by the Castle Inn, in Combe Martin.

Some pubs have been struggling to survive in recent times, with many landlords complaining that the pub companies which own many pubs are squeezing them with higher rents and “tied” drinks prices far more expensive than normal wholesale costs.

There have also been dramatic changes in the pub industry in the past ten years, with the emergence of “gastro pubs” and the popularity of cheap supermarket alcohol.

Politicians, including North Devon MP Nick Harvey, have called for changes in the law to help save our pubs from decimation.

An unpretentious country pub offers hope

We headed east first, through one of Barnstaple's housing estates, with a fast-setting sun behind us, before wheeling on in to the crepuscular North Devon countryside.

Blocks of flats and prim lawns gave way to sheep-cropped hills, which were greenish then greyish, as a late-summer day turned into an early-autumn night. The thousands of people living in the pub-less housing estate were nowhere to be seen and the country lanes only carried people in motor cars, until we, two pub fanatic outriders, appeared on push bikes, catching flies.

I was keeping a quiet lookout for head-skimming bats, my favourite type, but the only wild beasts on the loose seemed to be unusually-gigantic black birds, which were flying low, indistinct and secretive behind the lowering hedgerows. I thought of a creature I had seen on the Taw estuary earlier that day which looked like a small dinosaur.

For what felt like the first time in months, no rain was falling from the sky. It's uphill as you go north east towards Goodleigh from Barnstaple on the road but the cycling was relatively easy, thanks to the never-ceasing westerly gale which has made the summer months such a joy in the Westcountry this year. My Adam's Ales friend had forgotten to put his lights on his bicycle, so I rode in the rear, illuminating him and the entire road with an unnatural white glow.

His bike was about 30 years younger and £300 more expensive than my old iron horse and he easily sped off on the downhill run. He must have topped 40mph at one point and I feared for his life as he took a sharp right bend without touching his brakes. I cooled it on the corner, having spotted a constabulary vehicle at the junction.

We went to Goodleigh specifically to visit the New Inn, which is listed in this year's Camra Good Beer Guide as a "traditional old village inn" where a "warm welcome" awaits. The New Inn is also know for its good food. So far in this beer odyssey I have been to more town pubs than country pubs, and have, in Barnstaple at least, not been overly pleased with what I have found. Stale corporatism and board room uniformity has infected our public house cultural treasures like woodworm burrows through an old village church.

Like many people, I often turn to the country pub for sanctuary. But the money wizards and pubco vandals, not to mention Taxman, have been playing merry hell with our rural pubs for decades; what good is left? Will places like the Goodleigh local offer any cause for hope?

We put out bikes in the beer garden, wiped the sweat off our faces, and went inside, thirsty as fat men on a merry-go-round. The pub was empty save for a handful of local people, including two well-behaved children, at the bar. The pub did not appear to have been modernised, or "ruined" as I prefer to say, so, like most good old pubs, it was unpretentious and comfortable.

You know you are in a good local when conversations start easily among strangers and the New Inn is that sort of place. There was no fruit machine, jukebox, piped music, or television. The windowframes were made of wood. I felt as if the pub had got to its current state by a long and friendly process of careful and intelligent use by human beings. When I walk in to a McPub I generally get the impression the pub has got to its current state by a brief and ruthless process of careless and shortsighted planning by beancounters emboldened by computer models.

The only small downside was a lack of Devon ale. We drank Cornish Jack, a light, thirst-quenching beer, which is made by Sharp's. This clearly did not fit the "local beer" category, but it was fine, robust, and supremely tasty ale, ideally suited for cyclists and all manner of professional outdoor sportsman. When I went to get the second round, two men were talking about keeping chickens and growing vegetables. If the New Inn was my local, I would be delighted and, more importantly, would make the effort to spend my beer money there.

It is wise to avoid drawing hyperbolic conclusions about the fact that such a very good pub was almost empty on a clear-skied Saturday night in early September; maybe it was just a quiet night. As I later hurtled home through the dark lanes, I hoped the villagers hadn't gone to the Wetherspoon's in Barnstaple, which I knew would be crammed, and which also features, as the vanguard of corporate mediocrity and local dominance, in Camra's Good Beer Guide 2010.

A couple of ales apiece refreshed, and after a discussion about the psychological implications of seeing UFOs, it had been time to leave, with no small sense of reluctance. When we took our pint pots back to the bar, everyone said goodbye.

New Inn, Goodleigh, North Devon

Adam's Ales Rating: 4 out of 5

Drink this: Sharp's Cornish Jack, 3.8%

Wilshaw stumbles on an intriguing suggestion of a "hidden beer history" for the Westcountry...

Leafing through a book called Devon and Cornwall in Pictures, which was published in 1959, I found an interesting photograph of the Blue Anchor Hotel in Helston, Cornwall.

The picture, apparently of a man in an apron in a beer cellar, caught my eye because it gives one viewpoint of how breweries were faring in those counties at that time, a full half a century ago.

The entry from the book, which was published by Odhams Press, London, reads: "Beer brewing as a local craft was once a feature of life throughout the Duchy of Cornwall.

"There are records of many inns which brewed their own beer, and scores of big farmhouses from end to end of the county were similarly self-sufficient.

"During the last 50 years (that is: since 1909) almost all the inns serving home-brewed beer have been taken over by the big breweries or have at least ceased to make their own brews, until now it is said that the only remaining house of its kind is that in which the picture on the left was taken, the Blue Anchor Hotel at Helston.

"The brewer is drawing off a sample from one of the great vats in which the beer is brewed at this old inn."

If this summary is accurate, and I can't be 100% certain it is, then by the early 1960s, say, an entrenched and highly localised beer culture was obliterated in Cornwall. It follows that if it happened there, it probably happened in Devon too. I find this an extraordinary and intriguing suggestion, not least because an entrenched and highly-localised beer culture is my idea of an idyll on planet Earth, which could be splendid for tastebuds and the environment alike.

I, a bitter-drinking northerner by birth, had always been led to believe that this was cider country, which, to some extent, it certainly was, and still is.

But I do very much like the idea of this "hidden history" of beer brewing and I'd really love to find out more. What type of grain did they use? And what about hops? Wild hops? No hops?

Whether or not any of this farmhouse beer was anything but revolting, of course, is another story. But it can't have been much worse than the can of sweet Marston's Pedigree I had last week.

Pub landlord celebrates new boozer - by getting baptised

A pub landlord has marked the start of his new life in Appledore with a baptism in the River Torridge, the North Devon Journal reports.

John Tompkins was baptised by the vicar of St Mary’s Church, Rev John Ewington.

John, a former chartered accountant has, with his business partner, just taken over The Champion of Wales pub in Appledore after moving to North Devon from Sussex.

He said: “I’m new to these parts and have had a bit of a journey in the past year. I was about 70% Christian before but am going the whole hog now.

"I thought the baptism would be a way to celebrate my new life in the village. I’m just over 60 and want to spend the rest of my life doing good things."

The remains of the George Hotel in Hatherleigh have raised hundreds of pounds for firefighters...

The remains of the George Hotel in Hatherleigh have raised hundreds of pounds for firefighters, the North Devon Journal reports.

The 600-year-old pub started to "rise from the ashes" earlier this year with some help from local potter Jane Payne, of Hatherleigh Pottery, who came up with the idea of creating pots and glazing them - using ruins salvaged from the historic pub.

She has already raised more than £200.

Together with her husband Mike, Jane managed to recover some of the smaller pieces of badly charred timber when the pub, which dated back to 1450, went up in flames at Christmas.

More than 100 firemen from across the county were drafted in to help fight the blaze at the coaching inn which was still burning well into the early hours of Christmas Eve.

Jane and Mike were among the crowds watching in horror as the listed building burnt to the ground.

They were re-burnt in the couple’s woodburning stove and then sieved when cold and ground fine with a pestle and mortar. The ash was mixed with a transparent base glaze which covered the small pots.

Jane said: “I was being very cautious because of the limited amount of ash but they all came good when they went into the gas kiln and I was absolutely delighted with the result.”

The £2.5 million rebuild of the George is due to begin in October.

Among the keep fit fanatics, I attend a festival of many local ales

The idea of holding a beer festival in a temple of fitness certainly appealed to me.

While the keep-fit-on-Friday-night bods were humping bits of iron about and whacking little balls at each other, you could be sipping a fine ale, watching the sun set over a particularly swollen Spring tide (who WAS that man on the big boat with the large beard?).

And why not? Friday evenings gurning in Lyrca are not my idea of fun. (Official medical note: you will die younger if you don't do some form of regular exercise, which can include a weekly moderate session of beer-drinking).

In the cafeteria area of the North Devon Leisure Centre there probably wasn't enough beer to fill a swimming pool, but there was certainly enough to replenish a large outdoor bath: 40 brews, and only 18 not local. I thought back to the recent North Devon Show which had no North Devon beer in its beer tent.

I was accompanied by two cheerful comrades who each voluntarily opted to drink cider. None of our party wore beards that evening, although we had briefly toyed with the idea of wearing heavy hairy disguises. As my companions were both women, the disguises might have come across as jovial, rather than serious, attempts to blend in, so we didn't go incognito in the end. 

I drank some good North Devon beer. Again, the Wizard brewery from Ilfracombe seemed to offer something special; its Lundy Gold (4.1%) was clear, refreshing, bitter, and satisfying. Second best was probably Country Life's Golden Pig (4.7%), which is such a startlingly friendly and summery drink that you would probably feel like a fizzly golden piglet after a few of them. I also tried for the first time beers made by Forge, from Hartland, and they were well-structured and quaffable scoops. If you see any of these beers in a pub, you should try them.

To be honest, and fair, I have never been to a beer festival without having at least one beer which I suspect has been included as a joke, given its total repulsiveness, and this occasion was no exception. I had a half of one foul-smelling stinker which looked like it had been scooped out of the River Taw and dosed with caster sugar. But, because I was quite, but not stupidly, trousered, I can't remember which one it was. And, such are the vagaries of the human tongue, someone probably thought it was indeed fine to imbibe in all seriousness. It wasn't from any of the breweries mentioned here.

We left after a good couple of hours of beer exercise at the temple of leisure. Joking aside, I'm not sure the cafe at the leisure centre is the very best venue in terms of atmosphere for a beer festival; the organisers had invited local music acts to perform on a stage, but I kept being distracted by sweaty-looking people in tracksuits (insert joke here). It was interesting to note that this was the least FMAMWBy (fat-middle-aged-men-with-beards-y) ale shindig I'd been to. There were lots of women and younger people there, and very few beards among either group.

There were 20 beers from North Devon on offer. The breweries represented were: Barum, from Barnstaple; Clearwater, from Torrington; Country Life, from Abbotsham; Forge, from Hartland; Jollyboat, from Bideford; and Wizard, from Ilfracombe. There was also cider from Winkleigh. These were complemented by 18 "guest beers" from other parts of England.