More July ticking, and a second tick in Dartmouth, and another “famous” pub that I distinctly recall walking past in 1995 when Mum and Dad (I’d forgotten they came down to Devon) were impressed by the floral display but not impressed enough to go in.
Beautiful pub, rather off-putting alley (and steps if you’re 82).
Like those beamed pubs in York’s Shambles, you wouldn’t necessarily expect to see the Cherub in the Guide. Never trust a pub with lots of words on the wall, I thought.
I was wrong, it’s a classic.
You’re greeted by the theme from “Ghostbusters”, a bloke in a Hawaii shirt humming badly,
a sign saying “We prefer cash”, a tourist asking where the “tip box is”, and a couple of red nosed posh Old Boys debating Newton’s Theory of Light (“Newton was wrong“) and recounting adventures ending in them knocking themselves out.
I’ve never been in a pub with a higher ration of drunks. Well, not since the Brunning & Price in Hook, anyway.
The Dartmoor Legend was cool and rich (NBSS 3+), albeit a fiver a pint.
I could have stayed there all day, enjoying the banter of nicotine stained winos, and I mean that in the kindest way possible.