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.

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

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

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.

I am asked to leave...

There is nothing large or smart about being barred from a public house. I was once told never to darken the doors ever again of a certain pub in Lancashire after I mistakenly disputed a bar bill which contained apparent evidence of the consumption of a number of pints of ale, not to mention single malt whisky chasers and fine Cuban cigars. Even now, I'm not entirely sure who had consumed all those drinks and smokes, but there certainly was a collection of empty glasses on our table and a number of cellophane cigar wrappers in our ashtray. And I think we were smoking cigars. Either way, I was a youth, roaring drunk, and certain of my case. In short, I was being an arse. I had to leave. There is nothing big or clever about being barred from a public house.

I imagine that most of the people who are barred from pubs fully deserve their sanction.

I'm thinking of the sort of wiry fellows who like to fill their veins with super-lunatic lager on match days before stripping to the waist and throwing metal shop signs through a high street window. I saw that happen once. Or the sort of lethal fool who throws glasses. A New Labour politician might say something like: "These people have no place in the pubs of our dreams, only the inns of our nightmares." I can, for once, only agree.

Anyway, I was asked to leave a pub the other night.

Not because I was violent or abusive or so shot I couldn't breathe properly. No. I was asked to leave a pub for...

...training!

That's right: training.

I was in the beer garden of the Tarka Inn, which is on the main road between Braunton and Barnstaple, one fine recent Sunday evening having a pint with my father; I only see him about once a year because he lives "upcountry", as they say around here.

The beer was good at the Tarka, the sun was still beaming away and I had only just started to explain my intensely fascinating architectural analysis of the Tarka Inn's castle-like squat dominance by the Taw estuary and the relative merits of a benignly-neglected country local compared to a corporate tourist pub when a young lad in a smart shirt came outside and said we had time for a quick last pint because they were closing. It was about 9pm. I asked the barman why they were closing and he said: "For staff training".

We weren't bovvered about being asked to leave the pub restaurant (which is owned by the chain Vintage Inns), even if it was "for training", it was just a new experience. Superb pint of Timothy Taylor, by the way.

The Tarka Inn, Heanton, North Devon

Adam's Ale Rating: 2 out of 5

Drink This: Timothy Taylor (if it's on)

I am mysteriously rewarded after attending a bingo night

I was only half-concentrating on my bingo sheet when I felt an urgent little tug on my shirt sleeve.

I glanced away from the tugger and looked at the next table, where a burly fellow with a Midlands accent and a girly drink (Barcadi Breezer) lifted his eyes from his bingo sheet, which seemed tragically bereft of crossed-out numbers, and looked at me as if I had kicked his favourite springer spaniel in the face.

Dangling my Biro of fate in my hot hand, I realised the whole packed-out holiday camp hall had stopped its tense muttering and was basking in a shared semi-drunken state of nervous silence. The melancholic remains of a blown dandelion clock hung in the late-evening air by the doorway, buffeted to stillness by the heat of contest rising from the bingo tribe.

Another tug on my shirt sleeve. Yes, yes, yes, I muttered...I had...won, won, won my companion was telling me. Here! A winner! Then she was waving my bingo sheet in the air and screaming "over here! over here!" at the young girl who was calling out the numbers on the stage.

The harassed girl walked down from behind her digital number machine to assess my claim of victory. Feeling I was an unworthy winner, partly because of my lack of love for the game of bingo and partly because I wasn't actually on holiday at the camp, I drained the final mouthful of a very average pint of Guinness.

Yes, there was bingo, a woman dressed as a giant beachball, and lots of screaming, running-about children, but no real ale on offer at the bar of the Golden Coast holiday camp near Woolacombe that day. Everyone was enjoying themselves, of course, and it's a splendid place to go on holiday, but I needed to celebrate my win with something reeking of the green growth of North Devon hedgerows, of hops, malt and, perhaps, the finest brewing genius known to the modern age. So, after collecting my £30 bingo winnings, and checking over my shoulder for bitter losers, I repaired to the nearby pub.

It was good to get away from the blaring disco in to the cooling North Devon early summer dusk and it was only a few minutes stroll to The Old Mill, which is in the peculiar position of being a bone fide 17th century pub all but inside a modern holiday camp on the Butlin's model. I couldn't resist walking a bit further up the lane first, just to look at the hedgerows exploding with complex life. I briefly contemplated fleeing to Benidorm with my bingo winnings, but thought better of it.

The Old Mill, large and rambling, is pleasingly ordinary inside; no signs of anxious modernisation or domestication (silly bits of twigs in designer vases were absent, praise be). It is certainly a Tourism Pub, but that isn't always a Bad Thing, although we had eaten at the pub the previous day and the food, I have to say, was lacking in quality or inspiration. What about the beer?

I took my pint of Lundy Gold, made by the Wizard Brewery in Ilfracombe, up to the "top" beer garden, away from the monkey enclosure (or "children's play area" as some people insist on calling it), all the better to take in the sun dappled pastures on the horizon. I wasn't desperate for peace and quiet, like some kind of No Ball Games killjoy, which is a good job because I was sat under a tree bristling with a large and precarious-looking nest of young squawky birds (tell me if this gets too technical, any naturalists among you). Meanwhile, down in the "lower" beer garden a smart woman was crooning along to a backing CD, but not in an offensive "I'm Whitney Houston" way, so I was mostly able to ignore her.

At first, the boy stayed asleep in his pram. It had been a manic day, what with all the swimming, dancing, trying to leap down stairs-ing and frightening parents-ing, and then the unforgiving pride of having a bingo winner for a father. But as I took my second sip of Lundy Gold the boy started to make the time honoured "Father, are you enjoying a moment of reflection with a pint of fine ale?" pram moan.

I don't think it was just the sunshine making me think that that Lundy Gold was one of the best pints of beer I have ever tasted. Wizard are punching well above their weight when it comes to quality and taste inspiration; the brew was light, bitter, refreshing, and clean tasting; it had just enough bite but didn't feel too tangy, knockout and lager-y like some similar beers. I immediately wanted to drink at least three more pints and wait for the bats to come out, but the "Father, are you enjoying a moment of reflection with a pint of fine ale?" pram moan became insistent and we had to leave.

Back at the camp hall, my bingo companions were enjoying a nightcap and the disco was in a full handclap mania, but the boy needed to go to bed so we couldn't stay and listen to the Gummy Bear Song again (is the excuse I used to flee the hideous clatter).

All the noise overload started me thinking about the noises of pubs in general: the "shhh, your bloody drink is coming" of the pump, the swish of a man escaping his duty to replace a spilled three-quarter full pint, the harumph of the real ale snob...

I want the pub to be an ageless refuge from the hum and humdrum of work and duty, a place where we can watch the sky and wait for the bats, or have a pointless argument about politics or cricket or what counts as a "girly drink", because, in the end, I claim, we all need space, man. Which is why I'm writing this blog post in the front passenger seat of my car, in my garage.

The Old Mill, Woolacombe

Adam's Ale Rating: 3 out of 5 (loses a point for average food)

Drink This: Anything by the Wizard brewery or Exmoor Ale

A pub with a "reward card"

I hear that Lacey's Ale and Cider House in Bridge Street, Bideford, North Devon, is offering a type of reward card to drinkers of the Country Life microbrewery's real ales (which are brewed by Mr Lacey). I haven't had chance to take part yet myself, or indeed to write about Lacey's, but I understand that the card is stamped each time you buy a pint of the real ale and a certain number of stamps means a reward. This sounds like a splendid idea and should help persuade people to sample the Country Life beers (brewed at the Big Sheep tourist attraction near Bideford) which I have found to be among the best beers I have tasted anywhere; the brews were star performers at the recent Ilfracombe beer festival and are becoming firm favourites at pubs in North Devon.

A modern pub for tourists on a busy roundabout inspires me go loco with commas

At the big roundabout, a sort of traffic island, if you will, there stands the public house Cook Island, which is dedicated to holidaymakers and daytrippers, who we love and hate, don't we?, even though how many of us have never been a holidaymaker?, if you will, where the emphasis is on food, like fish pie with lots of cheese, which people like, I saw them eating it, although I think cheese and fish should not be combined in this reality, it's an opinion, we're allowed them still aren't we?, or did I miss a new law, or a question for Bertrand Russell, or maybe Peter Cook, or a cab driver, or a combination of those people, and children are welcomed with a play area, but children, and I should know, like to use play areas as tactical planning rooms for wider assaults on the adult world, and go in those places like millionaire cigar fiends go in velvet-cloaked airport humidors in balmy south American airports, sunglassed eyes seamy with ruinous missions, maybe we should just lighten up, and maybe stop writing in sentences, let's see how it goes, well, like this, oh, yes, let's keep going a bit more, Cook Island, wasn't it?, and where there is an estate of wooden chalets next door, some of which seemed to be on sale for more than £100,000, which is more than I can afford to spend on a home for my family, like many people, I chortled as I 'tucked in' to my burger, it's always 'tucking in' with food journalists isn't it?, does anyone ever 'tuck in' in real life? apart from at bedtime, when it's vital, particularly in a chilly house, where the ice is inside the windows, a cliche, that once happened to me in my life, to almost misquote Morrissey again, which has happened before during this pub odyssey, so I was 'tucking in' and thinking about these wood palace chalets, and chortling, in a chippy sort of way, and thought is it time for a revolution?, maybe, does my son mind?, no he was plotting in the playroom, he likes throwing knives at the moment, tucking them in to passing innocents, like me, which I do not tolerate at home or in public houses, including in Cook Island, where the building is modern, in my view rather plain, not modernist like stream of consciousness writers, who can get tiresome, if they don't use full stops, people get narked, but anyway, sparking my prejudice against modern pubs, where does it come from, this prejudice?, people are more important than windowframes, you lunatic, although the windowframes didn't seem plastic, phew, I found myself staring, somewhat strangely, in both senses of the word, or maybe more, staring at the main road through a picture of the statue of liberty on the window, again a symbol, in one sense, of revolution, and sipping the Exmoor Ale, which was tasty, correct temperature, and the food was acceptable, and the staff who served it were extremely friendly, if friendliness can be extreme, a terrifying thought, and I started thinking about old Cook swinging around the world, stealing islands, that's what he did, wasn't it?, Cook, or Cookie as he soon became in my mind, as I took a stroll around the chalet estate, old brother Cookie who died 10 years before the storming of the Bastille, you're lucky I'm ending this now, I could go on all night, yes the end comma is deliberate, quite deliberate,

Cook Island, Mullacott Cross, near Ilfracombe, North Devon
Adam's Ale rating: 2 out of 5
Drink this: Exmoor Ale

A beer festival in Ilfracombe

By the time we got to the Ilfracombe beer festival at the twin-chimney Landmark theatre, a high, cool, breeze and spitting rain had sent the stragglers inside, where the bar had already sold 3,600 pints in a weekend.

Charmain Lovett, the festival organiser, poured us each a half of Golden Pig, a tasty product of North Devon’s superb Country Life Brewery. She was jovial — and wearing a crown of leaves from the earlier pagan parade.

The festival had started on Friday last week and when we arrived, late on Monday afternoon, the bar had already sold 50 barrels of beer and the 33 remaining barrels gradually emptied as the day went on. There was a Sunday-ish end-of-the-road feeling to proceedings when we arrived, which continued when we took a stroll around the town to get food; up the hill past the boarded-up social club and the almost-deserted streets.

Because real ale is a "live" product, it does not keep for long, and one of the features of the beer festivals I have been to is that the prices tend to go down towards the end of the event. So, when we arrived all pints were £3. Then, a couple of hours later that were £2. And when we leaving, they were £1. The morning after, I’m not sure my brain was entirely grateful for the ramifications of this price deflation.

Each of the beers we had was singular. An ale called Devonshire, also made by Bideford’s Country Life, had been the most popular beer, Charmaine said. Luckily for me, the Devonshire had all been drunk. Lucky because Devonshire has a challenging alcohol content of 10%.

Instead we had a try of Anniversary Ale, from the Branscombe Vale brewery in Seaton. The notes say it is a "well balanced amber-coloured bitter", which is, I have to say, quite true. I see I have scrawled "a splendid ale" in my notes.

Outside, a handful of people were bravely making the best of the dank weather, including some children on a bouncy castle, which was deflated and taken away while we were inside the Landmark theatre, in a slightly muggy room, listening to a musical folk duo called Fiddlebix.

We each enjoyed a glorious half of Golden Seahawk from the Cotleigh brewery in Wivilescombe while Fiddlebix — man with guitar and woman with fiddle — performed a version of the Dire Straits epic Romeo and Juliet. Then the guitarist said: "I’m going to play another Mongolian tune" and my friend appeared with two halves of Cavalier Ale, made by the Clearwater Brewery. He tasted it and said: "You can tell it’s from Torrington".

Unfortunately it was dark and "the burger man" had gone home when we buffooned out towards the bus stop. My friend fell asleep on the journey home while I was thinking of ways to describe beer that didn’t involve the word "splendid". The next morning, I was again faced with the strange fact that I had drank "only" "about" four pints ("about" eight halves) but felt like a million pain devils were stabbing miniature wands of misery in to the back of my eyeballs. William Blake said the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. Well if the palace of wisdom is a nausea-rocked place of mindless horror at 7am on a weekday, he was, in a way, spot on.

A fascinating story from the Journal this week...

THREE-quarters of Britain’s pub landlords believe the smoking ban has been bad for a business, according to a new survey.

Figures released by the industry show 74% of licensees surveyed reported the ban was bad for business. Some 47% have laid off staff as a direct result. But when the North Devon Journal asked licensees in North Devon the picture seemed to be mixed.

Caroline McAuley, who works at The Crown in Lynton said: “It hasn’t really affected us as we have quite a good outside area and covered area with heaters. Generally we have been quite lucky — and there are quite a lot of smokers in Lynton — it’s quite a smoky village.”

And at The George and Dragon in Fore Street, Ilfracombe, staff also feel that the ban hasn’t made much of a difference. Staff member Rosie Beecham said: “The same people still come in and we are a food-orientated pub — so maybe people prefer that there is no smoking. I’ve still got my job.”

At the Pack O’ Cards in Combe Martin landlady Debbie Batchelor said: “I can honestly say it hasn’t affected us much. We have a nice smoking area – and sometimes that’s busier than the pub, with more people outside than in here. But the government saying the smoking ban would bring more people out to the pubs is a load of baloney. There are no more people coming out than there ever were before.”

Shaun Musto, landlord of the Earl of Portsmouth in Chawleigh, has seen no effect since the ban came in. He said: “I don’t think smokers avoid coming to the pub because they can’t smoke. I think they’ve all just got used to it. This is a family-run pub so we’ve not had to lay off any staff and it hasn’t affected our profits in any way. I’m a smoker myself and I used to smoke around 15 a day. However, since the ban came in I’ve cut down to about three per night.”

Pete Robertson, landlord of the Clinton Arms in Frithelstock, only has one local who is a smoker. He said: “The ban hasn’t affected us in the slightest as we have always been a country pub that relies heavily on food, which is 75% of our income, to survive. However, a lot of pubs in the area have been affected and have closed down. Some drinking pubs in the area have been killed by the ban. Others are trying to become food pubs, have been employing new chefs and it has cost them. We have not really seen an increase in non-smokers. There have been niggles from a few people about the ban but others have said it is nice to come in.”

Dave Sawyer, landlord of the Black Horse in Torrington, does not feel the smoking ban has affected his trade. He said: “It does make it nicer for non-smokers who come here to eat. Before the ban people would come in and take one sniff and walk out again. About 25% of our regulars are smokers and they just go outside — we haven’t had anyone moaning about it. Our food itself has increased, so that could be more non-smokers coming in. But as far as I can make out we haven’t lost any of our customers because of the ban.”

Lisa Harley, manager of The Corner House in Barnstaple, agreed that the smoking ban had been bad for business. She said: “Most certainly it has affected the pub trade. Anybody would be lying to say it has not.” She said it had also had an impact on team nights because players had to go outside to smoke and it would hold up the game.

Jon Hutchings, landlord of the White Hart Hotel in Holsworthy, said: “It feels like the government is trying to get rid of community pubs. The smoking ban killed a lot of the real drinkers and if you don’t have an outdoor area like us as we are a town centre pub, it causes real problems. This is why we took part in the Proud of Pubs week to raise all these issues with our MP.” Lee Sycamore, landlord of the Olde Market Inn in Holsworthy, said: “Since the smoking ban, pubs have benefited from cleaner air and a healthier atmosphere, however, it has caused more problems than benefits.

“Some 24 pubs a week are closing nationally, and a large proportion of these have been credited to the smoking ban. Many pubs are unable to take necessary measures to accommodate the ruling, leading to no Smoking Areas for their patrons.

“The influx of non-smokers that the government promised has not happened, so most licensed premises have suffered a downturn in business. Saying this a small percentage of pubs have seen an upturn in trade, but this is due to hard work and great expense to try and cater for everyone.

“Good food and good beers at reasonable prices counts for quite a bit, but also outside areas for smoking, drinking and dinning. Social areas for people to meet up and have a quite chat, as well as other usual pub activities."

Lisa Horforth, landlady of The Windsor Arms, Bradiford, said the smoking ban had hit everyone “big time”. In particular they have lost their afternoon trade at the weekend because customers can no longer smoke inside while playing cards. And the new smoke-free atmosphere hasn’t gained them any new customers either.

Lucy Vane, landlady from the Appledore Inn in Bideford, said business has been affected but not dramatically. She said: “We have got a courtyard here that is used, so we are lucky. Most of our regulars are smokers and we have had to cut back on staff, but not by a lot.

“Some people just won’t come into pubs now because of the smoking ban, they just refuse. We don’t have any more non-smokers come into the pub and those who do and go outside and eat tend to moan because everyone in the courtyard is smoking around them. I don’t think it is all the smoking ban though, the credit crunch has also affected business, people are hard up at the moment and the price of beer has gone up and will do again because the breweries have just put their prices up.”

Graham Stone landlord of The Beaver Inn in Appledore believes that only 10% of his customers are smokers, but the ban has still had an effect. He said: “We do quite a bit of food here and that has deflected some of the problems of the smoking ban, but there has been a downturn in bar trade, although this hasn’t necessarily been compensated by the food sales.

“We introduced non-smoking to our restaurant a number of years before the ban came in and although some people moaned we felt the positive outweighed the negatives. We also invested quite heavily in air conditioning and ventilation and the investments were worthwhile at the time, but not required anymore. We haven’t had a noticeable increase in non-smokers coming in, but it is hard to compare with the weather.

"Although we haven’t had to get rid of staff yet, we are concerned for the winter. People have also been affected by the economy and with the silly prices the supermarket sell alcohol for. Some smokers are not going to come out on a wet day. Personally as a non-smoker I thought it wasn’t right to enforce this on public houses. I haven’t noticed any improvements in the atmosphere because of it, but perhaps there are health benefits to my staff and costumers.”

Paul Breese, landlord of the Tiverton Inn, South Molton, has also noticed a difference since the ban came in to force in 2007. He said it was now down to landlords to think on their feet. “The Wetherspoons chain is the best example of this. It’s gone from being the biggest wet sales pub in the country to increasing its food sales. Only a third of its business is drink now, whereas 12 to 18 months ago it was 75% of the business.” Mr Breese is also the landlord of the Snare and Gin Trap at Bishops Nympton and the Castle Inn at George Nympton. Although he was concerned for both, he said they have weathered the effects of the ban well. He said: “There’s no smoking shelter at the Snare and Gin Trap. People who want to smoke have to go outside with a brolly.”

This had led to him selling electronic cigarettes so people can get their nicotine hits that way. In the last three weeks he has sold 10 at the Tiverton Inn. Barbara Butcher, landlady of the Mitre Hotel in Witheridge, has definitely noticed a change behind the bar. She said: “Some people just don’t come to the pub anymore. We don’t have a covered area for smokers to shelter under so when they go out for a cigarette, come rain and wind, they have to brave the elements. I think it’s a combination of factors as well as the smoking ban. The weather hasn’t helped and what with the rising cost of alcohol and people having less money in their pockets, people just aren’t venturing out as much. Our bar takings are definitely down and if we didn’t have our food and bed and breakfast trade to rely on, we’d certainly be in trouble.”

Jane Morton, at the Coaching Inn, South Molton, said she could not decide if the smoking ban was a bad thing. She said trade at the pub and hotel has been stable although the clientele has changed. “We’ve had an increase in non-smokers using it. But we’ve been affected in other ways. We’re very much a food-led pub. Where people would stay for a cigarette and a dessert, they’re now going home so they can smoke. It’s a shorter dining experience. An after dinner coffee would often lead to another drink or two.”

But Ms Morton, who is in the process of buying the pub with her sister, said blaming the smoking ban on a lack of trade was perhaps too simplistic. “Our regular smokers, who might have come out on a Saturday night, are more likely to stay away. But cheap alcohol from supermarkets is also having a huge effect. In our case the core trade is holding firm.”

Ady Taylor, landlord of the Tally Ho! in Hatherleigh, said: “At the moment we are doing fine. We found it difficult in January/February time as although it usually goes quiet at that time of year, it was worse than usual — maybe because it was the first winter after the ban. But, strangely enough, we have done well throughout the summer and there has been no major drop in trade.

“We have a very smart smoking shelter at the back of the pub which we installed and it has made a difference. If we didn’t have it, we would not have half the people in the pub that we do. There are tough times ahead for everyone and the smoking ban has not helped. There is also the duty on beer and the rise in electricity which all contributes, but I am optimistic. We are lucky as we are quite stable and our food is doing well.”

Indecorous eccentrics and eccentric decor (an unexpected encounter in a fine public house)

One cooling summer dusk I found myself, energised by a sweet spicy dinner and a few kitchen ales, bundling into the Reform Inn, where yeasty pot-wallopers were stood on wooden chairs, screaming to the ends of their lungs through tobacco smoke.

It was almost 11pm and I wanted to look around my new "local". On that distant evening three years ago, I was unprepared.

An emotional and physical weakling would have fled, I told myself, so I shuffled through the blur to the bar, where I was greeted by a silver-haired gentleman bristling with a stripe of friendliness more usually reserved for the leprous thief. Yes, I was a thirsty stranger too close to closing time, who had neither the elbows for pool nor the eyebrows for darts...you know those special targeted brows...

But no matter. I got my pint of Barum Original above the yowling and through the haze I tried to analyse my amazing environment. Everything seemed somehow too luminous, too...yellow...orange...but worn in. This was unlike any public house I had ever visited.

I registered the pleasingly eccentric decor and the pleasingly indecorous eccentrics, some of whom were wobbling about on chairs, brow-furrowed with exertion. They were screaming sounds...words...song lyrics.

The song Livin' On A Prayer by 1980s permhead rockers Bon Jovi, was being screamed as, and acted out as, Standin' On A Chair. Not every night did this happen, I learned; that would be a bit much. But the singalong, a dead pleasure in most pubs, or a pleasure brutalised in to delusional carcrasheeokee, had not perished in the Reform.

Comfortable in my new tangerine/soft rock/real ale club for singing eccentrics, I drank my pint of Barum Original, which is made in a shed in a yard behind the pub. Original is superior home brew, perhaps not as light and sophisticated as some other Devon beers, but with an earthy personality and a certain puppyish moreishness. Some of my friends claim Barum is "rough as dogs", and I know what they mean, even if they are wrong. It is an acquired taste and I acquired it.

As I digested my first pint that evening, the evening dissolved in conversations. Three years after that first visit, and after 18 months away from North Devon, I went to the Reform and spent an hour talking to a man I had never met before. That doesn't happen everywhere.

The Reform is not a venue for cappucino, wi fi, student cocktails, designer lager, or brunch. But if you have a belly for beer, and a brain for conversation, the Reform is your man.

THE REFORM INN, PILTON STREET, BARNSTAPLE

ADAM'S ALE RATING: 4 out of 5

DRINK THIS BEER: BARUM ORIGINAL (4.4 %)

Barum Brewery website

Permhead rockers

Pilton's Green Man Festival