retiredmartin

June 2023. Deal.

Right in the heart of Deal, opposite the Just Reproach, where King St meets Middle St.

Regular reader and all-round legend writes “I must say I chuckled but also grimaced a bit at “a micro-cum-record-shop”; I mean, I’m sure it can be done well, but the odds are not stacked in its favor*, are they?”

And I admit I shared Mark’s reservations about record stores with beer, though the Skipton Sound Bar was a stunner last year.

And Smugglers Records goes one better.

And, as with all the best things in life (Bibimbap, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, Simon Everitt), it’s very hard to explain why.

It’s certainly not for fans of clean lines, order and bench seating.

But, from the welcoming reassurance on the phone that YES, we’ll be open, to the chaos of a major woodworking project inside, to the joyous collision of old and young at the bar, it was magic.

“Ebullient” says my note, and rarely have I been in a place with happier people (bar the annual GBG tickers conference), led by a quite wonderful lady recommending beers and weird music.

Perhaps not quite this weird,

though Laurie was playing as we entered, and as always that very last “uh” stops me cold.

One cask (is plenty), a cool Track Sonoma (3.5+) and some very local cans.

“I recommend the Sprat Waffler” said someone, possibly me. “What’s the “beer du jour” ?” asks another.

The chap with the shiny tools carried on, oblivious to what was unfolding around him.

Gentlefolk went and came, announcing “I’m back from the dead” and “Is there a change in the weather ?”; it had the air of one of those pubs frequented by well-to-do but unpretentious gentlefolk, and I knew I was in the presence of magic evben before the Gents.

Yes, it could be a lost cousin of the Grayston Unity, or the Rock & Roll Brewhouse, and we’re talking esteemed company.

Could do with more Dylan, mind.

*Forgive the Americans’ spelling, they’re not edukated like wot we are