Next up (and yes, it’s till Wednesday the 6th here), a pub I enjoyed more than any other this year (well, since the Circus, anyway).
Arise, the Queen Vic (as it were).
Getting there in the drizzle was half the fun, weaving out of central Aberdeen as the granite finally shone and I stumbled into Rosemount, a gem of a suburb.
This has classic pub all over it as you enter, the sort of Victorian gem that Soho or Paddington sometimes promises only to let you down with boorish Londoners and warm Pride.
I was determined not to be put off by the reliance on English beers.
The early evening trade was just arriving, a right mixed bunch. The best way.
One of them had the Landlord, which was all the steer I needed.
For reason unknown, I joined the crowd sitting at the bar, possibly hoping to block the handpumps for whoever is the Scottish BRAPA.
It was a good move though; I could observe the mechanics of a great pub. The bar gleamed, the beer was beautifully presented, the staff cheery.
OK, staff in waistcoats is a little Aberdeensy, I guess.
You can see I caught the bar in full flow.
Now, you might think,what was so good about the Queen Vic ? Barflies (inc.yours truly), Six Nations tat, TV screens, staff in uniform…
I find it hard to explain, just as I do when I consider describing the merits of the Halcyon Quest or the Dead Poets Inn.
As Dave put it so well in the comments recently.
Just being in a pub where everything is in place. As Pub Curmudgeon explores today in his latest post, it doesn’t even matter if the beer isn’t fantastic in a situation like that.
Perhaps it was “Jet” by Wings. Love that song.
The TT Landlord was decent, if not quite good enough for a second pint.
But I didn’t want to leave. Even though Mrs RM was headed to the Brew Dog.
So I moved to the excellent bottled range, Windswept’s Fox being inadvisable but essential. I didn’t even notice my new canine friends licking my shoes.
“You hypocrite, retiredmartin; it’s only a week since you were slagging off that Cheshire gastropub when the dog licked your shoes”.
My rules. All I know is that I shook hands with Duncan the barman and Gary the Tim Taylorman when I left and I had no idea why. Perhaps I’d won/lost a bet.
A wonderful pub, which looked even better in the encircling mist.
Now all I had to do was find Mrs RM. And act sober.
retiredmartin 
Well it may be a “Victorian Gem”, but only a pub since the 90’s. Oddly enough,it was going to be called the Rover’s Return until somebody from an alternative soap opera was available while doing theatre in town as it opened.
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Fooled me. People were real enough. I think the Dead Poets I bang on about only looks old and is a recent conversion too l.
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Good to see a Cheshire beer on the bar there >^..^<
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Well they’ve got to sell it somewhere.
( Only joking )
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Not even joking. Outside Cheshire gastropubs and the odd Spoons festival you’ll rarely see the likes of Mobberley, Weetwood or Merlin. I have no idea how they sell enough to survive, however good their beer is.
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The more I try and think what makes the perfect pub the more puzzled I am when a brilliant pub breaks the rules. I suppose that’s the joy of pubgoing in an increasingly bland world.
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It makes a change to see young Martin drinking at a proper hour and not bothering some poor landlord early doors when he’s just trying to get his head together with a coffee and a crafty fag.
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There really isn’t anything like it.
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“Next up (and yes, it’s till Wednesday the 6th here)”
So, what happens after the 6th?*
* – since you used ’till’ not ‘still’. 🙂
“Arise, the Queen Vic (as it were).”
Are all those pink bits on the map your ramblings?
“Cobbles”
Without any bollocks.*
* – sorry… bollards. 😉
“only to let you down with boorish Londoners ”
Is there any other kind?
“A study in concentration”
No disrespect to Dave, but that bloke is enjoying ‘being’. 🙂
“for whoever is the Scottish BRAPA.”
Blimey. Does each country have one?
“Just being in a pub where everything is in place. ”
Crikey. His post made an impression on a few of us.
“Food matching”
Even the colouring is complementary.
“I didn’t even notice my new canine friends licking my shoes.”
You really have to get new shoes.
“which looked even better in the encircling mist.”
Beautiful photo.
“And act sober.”
LOL. Been there, done that. 🙂
Cheers
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All pub life…say no more. Beer is a bonus!
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In the Queen Vic, I’d have recommended the bottles of beer rather than the cask.
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Thanks for including Dave’s comment, and for linking to Pub Curmudgeon’s post. I think maybe the way to find out where people fall on this question is to give them a very stark choice between:
a) A visit to an absolutely amazing pub, one that will provide you with memories you’re going to recall fondly many years later, but you can only have pints of Budweiser.
b) A visit to a truly awful pub, one that is unpleasant to be in and that you will wish to forget immediately, but you can have pints of your very favorite beer.
Me, I’m going to go for the “a” choice every time. But I can understand the “b” choice as well– it’s all about what matters to you most.
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Now trying to think of an amazing pub with Bud (or similar). And a truly awful pub. Mudgie asked that question on Twitter the other day.
To be honest, I’d rather drink Bud or Fosters or whatever than a poorly kept Plum Porter or Harvey’s.
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