The insidious invasion by micropubs continues apace, knocking perfectly good locals serving Jennings Bitter out of the Guide as it goes.

It was inevitable that small towns that had lost their “York National Bank ” or “Everitt the Butcher” would end up giving a recently retired couple the chance to serve beer like this,


to a room of middle-aged people forced to talk about beer festivals to each other.

I was fairly convinced that Hornsea‘s new Guide entry the Stackhouse Bar fell into that category, leaving Spurn Head as the only East Yorkshire settlement without a micro in 2017.


This was a 3rd trip to Hornsea, one to initiate an historic argument with Mrs RM over unnecessary (i.e. all) shopping at Freeport, and another to visit its sole GBG entry until this year.  I’m a sucker for Mansfield livery.

Hornsea isn’t a place where Midlanders or Yorkies set up camp for the week and drink the pub dry (I’m coming on to Cleethorpes soon), so three pubs round the Market Place, and a couple by the sea is probably enough for the day-trippers.

I almost feel obliged to share a photo of the sea with you, but with the tide in this was not a trip highlight.

Most visitors, including a worrying number of skiving school-children, were in the amusement arcades, rather than admiring the font at St Nicholas.


It’s a two-street town, the main one (Newbiggin) having the twin joys of a Heron Foods (all the best places have one) and, of course, a branch of Harper’s Fisheries of Wetwang that we discovered in Market Weighton.  You can never have enough Wetwang in a post.  The aroma of chips was even more alluring than in Driffield.

Newbiggin also has a bar with handpumps called Lucien’s, and our Stackhouse micro. Except that it turns out to a craft-conscious bar (by East Coast standards) of the first order.


It’s a classy little gem, apart from micro opening hours, a little bit of modern Middlesbrough by the coast.


An eclectic range of seating (church pews, cinema seats, and a chunk out of a Fly BMI plane), neat and cheery decoration, and a unisex toilet with the smallest wastepaper bin in the Kingdom. Old blokes, and mums and toddlers made up the afternoon custom.

Four well-chosen beers including a superb Ossett Inception (NBSS 4) served by welcoming staff who also know to play background music (the O’Jays, James Brown) at the right volume. 


I have absolutely no idea what purpose the Mere serves. The same is true of Diss.  But I do like the look of that Faszleves Bar in the island in the middle of it.


  1. I have been to Hornsea twice,the first time i did all five pubs there and the second time it was for fish and chips as we stay in Beverley quite a bit with relatives who drive.
    I also wanted to do Withernsea as i watched a documentary about that part of the East Coast and they have almost given up on it due to the eroding coast line and i thought Hornsea and Withernsea were top of the list to go under water in the next few decades.
    I agree Hornsea is’nt worth an holiday as there is not much there.


  2. Interesting post, principally because I grew-up in Hornsea, leaving 37 years ago for London. The Rose & Crown was my local, the landlord being George at the time (who passed away a handful of years later). I remember his last words to me on my last evening — “…close them curtains for t’last-time, Dave”. Where do our lives go?

    Anyway, The Rose was pretty-much the best pub then (and seemingly now), with the duffers pub to its right (whose name escape me) pretty dull and the Pike & Heron (Spoon & Fool, as dubbed by us) the pub for the scallies. The Marine Hotel — a few-10s-of-yards north of where you took your sea pic had a splendid aspect, and was an essential stopover en-route to either the Floral Hall (the less said about the better) or the long, windy trek up to the Marine Club ~ 1–mile south past the sewage farm (these are beginning to sound like Macc Lads lyrics!)

    One bar that should get an honourable mention is that of the late, lamented Granville Court that used to lie sandwiched between the sea and Hornsea’s ‘other’ street (New Rd.). The vast Granville ‘hotel’ was a simply extraordinary place, dark (literally), gothic, and peopled by the young starting out in adult life and the older rejected by that life. Getting bevvied at the Granville in the early 80s was not unlike being on the film-set of ‘The Shining’, and a place with a greater sense of being time-haunted I have never been in. As a boozer, it holds a special place in my heart. It was destroyed in an act of arson in the 90s (…wasn’t it, Mr Ollitt?).

    Thanks for bringing my memories of those fond days back…

    N.B. Roy, Charlie, Gozzie, Chris — I miss you all.

    Liked by 1 person

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