
October 2025. Matlock.

Matlock always feels a long way away from Sheffield, tucked away on the edge of the Peak, and it’s true you have to get there via an irritating 12 minute change at Derby (irritating in the sense that 12 minutes isn’t quite long enough to get to the Smithfield for a Bass).
But it’s still only just over an hour before the train reaches journey’s end at Derbyshire’s county town, disgorging tourists into a quiet town of 10,000 (micropubs) to explore record shops.

See. I told you that Dire Straits vinyl would be valuable eventually !

The first GBG newbie in a while greets you with Spandau Ballet rather than Knopfler & Co, and I contemplate how rarely you hear “True” in pubs, and how grateful I am for that.

“Was this the old Spoons ?” I wonder, as I’ve never noticed the Remarkable Hare before. Apparently not, that’s now a Lounge bar. Matlock feels a town for the smarter dining pub, what with a bod over the road.

A pub with jam jars, and slightly too many beers, and seating one foot from the bar blocking your approach.

That’s the biggest crime, and I can forgive a lot of the garish displays because the staff are really great,

and the customers start to sing “Bohemian Rhapsody” because the first words are on the wall, but then they stop, and return to the snack menu.
The Bass seems quite popular with the locals who are roughly my age, in body if not spirit.
It’s a bit sweet (2.5), and I remember how good Bass is up the hill.

But there’s laughter and life and I feel I’m in a proper community pub, which given the Hare is local Pub of the Year is reassuring.
*Astonishingly this is true, due to Derby’s City Council being a unitary authority, which is a bit like finding out that Chipping Sodbury is the county town of Gloucestershire.
On balanceβ¦ I feel the red triangle is way out of proportion to the Bass logo, probably designed by an AI after a few too many craft algorithms. Also, whilst I found the staff and beers very good in the Hare, I didnβt enjoy the high tables. The Bass will always be a NBSS +0.5 in the Hare as it saves the climb up to the Thorn Tree.
(The Real) Mark
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But think how much satisfaction you’d get from the climb. Not to mention it’s a much better pub.
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An extension to the Heights of Abraham cable car isnβt too much to askβ¦ is it?
(The Real) Mark
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Matlock always used to seem a long way from anywhere: Derby, Nottingham, or Sheffield, but that’s what hills, valleys, quaint names, and 1960s cars can do.
Incidentally, “county town” isn’t an official title I read, so Matlockshire enthusiasts might have to lower expectations.
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Wot, not catching the X17 bladder tester from Sheffield to Matlock?
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A test I would have failed !
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Haven’t they taken over the Derby Brewing Company one as well – it shut after a very short time…The Pointing Dogs?
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You could be right, LAF. Possibly even read about it on one of your blogs !
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I don’t know, but you may be right. Pointing Dogs would fit that model.
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” (irritating in the sense that 12 minutes isnβt quite long enough to get to the Smithfield for a Bass)”
Ouch!
“disgorging tourists into a quiet town of 10,000 (micropubs)”
(slow golf clap)
“and I contemplate how rarely you hear βTrueβ in pubs, and how grateful I am for that.”
See? Pubs need to know their clientele vis-a-vis background music.
“I wonder, as Iβve never noticed the Remarkable Hare before.”
Are you referring to the Jackalope hanging above the fireplace in the pic above?
“A pub with jam jars, and slightly too many beers, and seating one foot from the bar blocking your approach.”
Ugh.
“and the customers start to sing βBohemian Rhapsodyβ because the first words are on the wall, but then they stop, and return to the snack menu.”
Heh. Probably forgot the rest.
“But thereβs laughter and life and I feel Iβm in a proper community pub, which given the Hare is local Pub of the Year is reassuring.”
And makes it worthwhile.
Cheers
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Is a Jackalope a hare ? Never knew. Good pub called Jackalope in central London.
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The Jackalope is a myth, native to North America. π
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jackalope
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Looks real to me π
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It’s fooled many folk. π
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