Location, location, location.
Finding the perfect seat in a pub is a delicate matter. Do we sit at the bar? But it could be a regular’s spot. Do we try one of the small side rooms? But it could one other person in there which we’ll have to sit with awkward. Do we sit by the fire? But it may get too hot. We could sit in the far corner for some privacy? But we might end up right next to the Men’s Toilets.
Sometimes you can scope out the entire pub at a glance from the bar, but other times you walk around blind. Entering rooms without a single clue what’s on the other side.
On a recent pub crawl around Macclesfield I was caught in this game of cat and mouse, I’m the cat looking for the perfect seat aka the mouse. Thankfully I wasn’t playing alone and was joined once again by Dave Bailey (always good to have a mate who will drop everything for a few pints, or he has as little to do than me. Either is good).
The pub in question is The Castle. A beautiful 18th century building that was converted into a pub in the 19th century (thanks Wikipedia). It is Grade II listed with a white brick and black frame exterior, and sits on a cobbled side street in Macclesfield not far from St. Michael and All Angels Church. Its official website is its Facebook, which I think says more about this type of pub then the whole rest of this paragraph. It’s very nice.
Seating hadn’t really crossed my mind as walked up to The Castle. I was thirsty for a nice pint of cask, and knew the pub wouldn’t disappoint. Yet our first clue that we we were in for a some risky seated business was as we entered the doorway. We were met by two doors with frosted glass. Always a trepidatious start. Where are we going to end up? At the bar? In a small room being stared at by the locals? The toilets? The anticipation was intense. Until Dave said he’d been here before and took the door to the right that led directly to the bar.
The bar is surrounded on three sides (two bars and a side serving window) the staff hopped from one side to the other serving boozers. The side we opted for was compact. Right at the front of the pub, seating about 6, with room for one or two regulars to prop up the bar, maybe. Some might say the whole bar area and front seating looked cramped, I’d say cosy. Pump clips all around, dog biscuits on the bar, hand sanitiser, clean glasses at every possible angle ready to be grabbed. It was a lovely place to be, and exactly what I want from a pub.
‘Two pints of Lune Brew Co. ‘Bitter’, please’.
As the eyes had darted over the cask pump clips, so they now darted over the seating situation.
Could we sit at the bar? Not really, one person maybe but not two with winter coats, and a camera bag et al. We did want to sit in the lovely cosy bar area, and there was a small table available. We hesitated though. Instead of one of us immediately sitting in the empty space, in the beautifully traditional British way, we took in the pub, stunning as it is, and got cocky. Just as our pints were being placed on the bar a definite regular walked in, taking off his coat in the process. We assumed he would take the available seats.
Being stuffy millennials we opted not to just ask the bloke, but to leave the area and go through the second door at the entrance. To which we kept going. On the other side of the bar was another seating area, very nice it was too. Again though a cursory glance didn’t give us much room to manoeuvre in. Onwards we went. Until we reached the back of the pub. Where we were met with a big room. A few families sat around. One with parents and teenage kids. Maybe I’m remembering wrong, but I don’t think they had any drinks in front of them, I’ll give um the benefit of the doubt and say they were waiting for food. A lovely little benched seat in a rounded impression in one of the walls was taken up by a lone teenager wearing big headphones and reading.
‘Damn, that would’ve been nice.’ I whisper to Dave.
There was a table available though so we took it. The atmosphere wasn’t quite as bustling at the back of the pub, as it was in the front. This area was great for families and those wanting a quiet solo pint, and though I do like Dave I wouldn’t quite call him family, and we weren’t after a quiet pint either, we like talking about crap glassware too much.
We wanted to be at the front of the pub, that’s where we felt like we belonged. I always find the look at handpulls and the whole bar area satisfying. You find new things to see every time you look. You feel like you’re part of the action, without actually being.
As we sat at the back of The Castle though I realised the further you go back into a pub the more the atmosphere changes. You start off in the heart of the pub, the bar area. That’s where the beer is, where the staff are, where the regulars stand at the bar whether anyone wants them to or not. As you walk further back into its depths, the buzz of the bar area gets fainter, and different atmospheric pockets emerge. Those of bigger groups, out-of-towners, families, pool tables, sports fan watching the telly etc etc. All different, and sometimes it can be hard to find the correct pocket for your current mood.
After a few sips of our pints we knew we were in the wrong part of the pub for us. This room was great for the families, quiet, room for the kids, plenty of seating, away from possible drunken adults, but we were in search of that quintessential pub vibe. We wanted to see what other beers were on, admire all the pump clips on the walls to reminisce about past pints we’d had, or remember long forgotten breweries. We wanted to hear what others were ordering.
All the beautiful parts of seating near the bar.
We wanted to sit in the beating heart of the pub.
Then Dave dropped a bombshell.
‘Shall we move back to the bar area, see if there’s a seat?’
I gasped.
This is a risky manoeuvre. We’ve already shown our faces at the bar and left. To go back into such a small place, shuffle in only to find it full would be devastating. Awkward mumbles to each other, the staff and the people in the seats.
‘Hoh, it’s full haha’
‘We can move up’
‘Oh no it’s fine ha.’
‘We just wanted to check haha’
‘We’ll try round there haha’
‘Haha good luck’
‘haha’
That’s too many ‘haha’s’ for my liking.
If it is full then we have the inevitable walk of shame back to where we were sat. Raised eyebrows, menial grin, with a nod and a ‘heh’ to everyone we were near as we sheepishly return to whence we came. Them knowing we didn’t want to sit with them, deemed ourselves better than the back of the pub. Eyes from all angles judging us.
Moving seats in a pub is a fucking minefield.
Yes, the risk was high, but the rewards, the rewards could be bountiful.
I mulled Dave’s question over. Did I actually want to move and try the seating near the bar area? Well yes of course, but was I ready to attempt it. So I did what any craft beer nerd would do, I took the cowards way out. I looked Dave dead in the eye and told him I would like to move, and I will move, but on one condition; he takes the lead.
What a bastard I am. Offering to cower behind him as he most likely makes a fool of himself, and he’s only trying to help us both out.
Dave sat back in his chair, took a sip of his Lune Brew Co. ‘Bitter’ and said
‘I’m in, motherfucker!’ (I might be paraphrasing there.)
We immediately sprang into action. Coats up, pints in hand, we daren’t meet the eye of those around us in case they figured out what we were up to. We were trying to escape our self-imposed, imaginary shackles. We were attempting freedom.
Dave, chest puffed out, walk with the air of the man with nothing to lose. I cowered behind him. It was only about 30 steps but it felt like we had walked the whole of The Lord Of The Rings: The Return of the King Extended Edition.
Me: weak, feeble Frodo, Dave: brave, steadfast Samwise. We reached the door that led to the bar area we had just left. On the other side was either victory, or humiliation. Dave grabbed the handle, turned to me and said ‘Let’s do this’, and opened the door.
On the other side… a small table free, with perfect space for two of us.
We did it! We fucking did it!
We embraced like long, lost friends meeting again in Rivendell.
The regular who had, through no fault of his own, caused us not to sit here in the first place was propping up the bar. At the other table, a couple chatting away. We had risked it and won. What a feeling.
Our pints tasted even the better from our new vantage point looking upon the bar. The pump clips on the walls gave raise to us talking about Oakham ‘Citra’ for a good while. Was its pump clip the first instance of a sentient hop? Who knew, but we mulled it over. This would never have come up in our previous seat.
A small group came in, bright white Stone Island jacket among them.
‘Do you do Guinness?’
‘No sorry love, we don’t sell any big beer here. Just local, independent breweries.’
A gem of an interaction, which we would have missed if we had stayed were we were.
The buzz of the pub had engulfed us, and we were content knowing we’d found great seats, in a great pub.
Through writing this and looking back on this mini-adventure we had at The Castle, I realised even more so that the pub is so much to so many people. You do find little areas for whatever your needs might be.
A quiet pint, a party, a family event, a date, a chat at the bar with the staff.
Small microcosms that you can feel as you walk around a pub. Aye, sometimes you find yourself sitting in one you weren’t expecting, but that’s why a public house is so good, more often than not you can soon create a microcosm of your very own to enjoy your beer in.
Pints Of Cask Make You Strong 