Simon would do this justice, he really would. He’d have got the joy of a pub enjoyed by a diverse society, rather than just middle aged blokes sitting at high tables tapping away on Untappd.
But Simon won’t ever come here, because Monk Buxton is a cocktail bar without cask beer that will never get in the Beer Guide (well, until the great keg overthrow of 2027, anyway).
And the keg beer wasn’t the source of our collective wonder, either.
Though you can’t beat handwritten pump clips, can you ?
The credit for this discovery should lie with Curry Charles (he does have a Christian name but it’s secret), who said “ooh, that looks interesting” as we headed towards the Buxton Tap and a return to The Schedule. Ian seconded the proposal.
Mrs RM has that same habit of insisting we go in odd places, normally after six pints. I’m surprised we didn’t spot Monk when we were here in 2016; I took a photo of that tiling back then. Perhaps it’s new.
Whatever, it’s clearly garnered what we call a “small but loyal clientele” from nowhere.
Clearly the mid-afternoon crowd may be a bit different from what you’ll find at 10pm, but it’s good these hipster places* aren’t the exclusive preserve of the young.
The barman was helpful and chatty, the smells wafting in from the street reminded me of my stop in Ochos Rios, and I’ve rarely been in a pub with a more buoyant atmosphere ,though Port St Beer House after City’s win last night comes close.
Oh, perhaps this one;
Buxton is no Havana, or vice versa, but the jazz was pretty good and the Cauldron of Plenty Porter fitted the mood. No doubt someone will try to get them to add six handpumps and ruin it all.
We were there for 45 minutes, missing the “Official Trip” visit to the Cheshire Cheese with its Plum Porter, and didn’t care.
My notes says “Rucksack in Hebrides” and “All life is here” and that’s your lot.
“All human life is here” is sometimes used to indicate that some of the over-50s in a micro pub have their own teeth/hair. Here, it really was a mix of dreads and blue rinse.
Of course, you might be unlucky and turn up when it’s quiet and wonder what all this fuss is about.
Or turn up when it’s frantic and funky and foggy and wish you could read a book in the Swan.
I’m just annoyed I turned up a month late for the Hot Piss Trio, which might just be a name for those GBG tickers to consider adopting when they turn up at an unexpectedly closed micropub.
*I passed another Monk in Belper at the weekend, so it must be aimed at hipsters.