THE BLACK BULL, PAVIA

February 2026. Pavia.

I’d booked Trenitalia tickets to Pavia, reckoning a 7pm return* would be ideal to allow us to have a quick pint before a mad 20 minute dash for the train to Genoa (though I would caution against ever making Mrs RM dash for anything).

But as we stood outside the Black Bull at 18:02, with no lights or sign of life we began to realise that micropub hours aren’t restricted to Lancashire and Kent.

I mean, it’s the only thing resembling a pub in a town of 70,000, but even in Turin and Genoa we found that Italians don’t hit the pub till late. Compare that with opening times in Germany.

A local consulted his watch just as an apologetic young man made a dash for the door, explaining he’s been waiting for his partner to give birth,

which as excuses go beats “staff party“, “need time to rearrange the cushions” and “well, obviously we close for winter“.

I’ve no idea of the history of this Italian English styled pub, but it was here in 2014 when I made a couple of drunken memorable visits with the Pavia University staff,

once being forced to watch City concede two late goals to Madrid (not for the last time) on the TV.

An obssession with old (strong) British beer brands,

but I remember some interesting crafty keg from a decade ago, though the 6% Icarus from Dom Byron up the road was merely competent, and the lack of Untappd check-in tells a tale.

It’s a cosy bar for the after-work football crowd, most folk would think they were in a genuine Ye Olde Englishe pub, except you get compimentary crisps, table service and a soundtrack from Swedish metal band Ghost and the Ramones.

Shame we were a bit rushed by the time the drinks came out.

I made an attempt to wish the barman good luck with the impending birth; goodness knows how it came out in translation.

*Only later did we discover that there’s not really such a thing as an advance timed ticket and you can get on any train with the same rail company that day.

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Published by retiredmartin

Retired NHS, doing long walks around UK and the world to record the great bits. Focused on Good Beer Guide pubs and live music.

11 thoughts on “THE BLACK BULL, PAVIA”

  1. Mrs E and I went all over Italy by Trenitalia in 2017, but neglected to seek out the little places that tried to be like bits of England, though we did end up in an Irish pub…somewhere…Florence probably.

    What’s the point in doing anything, if you can’t remember it?

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  2. Pavia Uni folks are still talking about your 2014 lecture.
    Meant to say, your response on my WP techy feed blip being my best post yet raised a laugh… but then I did manage to delete it along with all its encouraging comments.

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  3. “(though I would caution against ever making Mrs RM dash for anything).”

    (slow golf clap)
    And, you’re a brave man. 😎

    “But as we stood outside the Black Bull at 18:02, with no lights or sign of life we began to realise that micropub hours aren’t restricted to Lancashire and Kent.”

    Bah. 😒

    “but even in Turin and Genoa we found that Italians don’t hit the pub till late. Compare that with opening times in Germany.”

    Or France! But ya, I hear ya. When me and the lads, from Uni, went to that 747 Club across the river in New York state, they didn’t open till 9pm (and we were practically the only ones there for the first few hours).

    I have a theory about that (not 100% true of course). But, over here at least, most places don’t get busy until 4 hours before closing time. In Canada, closing time is 1am, and it doesn’t get busy until 9pm. That bar in New York, didn’t close until 4am (normal for New York) and it didn’t get busy until 11pm.
    Can I get a grant to study this? 😊

    “A local consulted his watch just as an apologetic young man made a dash for the door, explaining he’s been waiting for his partner to give birth,”

    Blimey. If that’s how they decide their opening hours, I’m surprised they’re still in business!

    “which as excuses go beats “staff party“, “need time to rearrange the cushions” and “well, obviously we close for winter“.”

    Apologies if this seems rude but, other good ones would be “death in the family” or “partner was arrested for armed robbery”.
    (both of which happened to me this week, or, to me, on my darling wife’s side) 😒

    “I’ve no idea of the history of this Italian English styled pub,”

    Heh. 😊

    “but it was here in 2014 when I made a couple of (drunken) memorable visits with the Pavia University staff,”

    (slow golf clap)
    (with whispers of ‘well done that man!’)

    “once being forced to watch City concede two late goals to Madrid (not for the last time) on the TV.”

    Blimey. You’re rolling up the (slow golf claps) on this post.

    “An obssession with old (strong) British beer brands,”

    (looks down)
    I’m sure that first pic is in regards to the current Winter Olympics, taking place in Italy? 😉

    Also, the second pic has a nice catch phrase
    (and, ‘obsession’ has too many ssssss’s)

    “and the lack of Untappd check-in tells a tale.”

    Aha!

    “most folk would think they were in a genuine Ye Olde Englishe pub, except you get compimentary crisps, table service and a soundtrack from Swedish metal band Ghost and the Ramones.”

    Times do change, young Martin.
    (also, that ‘compimentary’ thingie needs an ‘l’) 😉

    “I made an attempt to wish the barman good luck with the impending birth; goodness knows how it came out in translation.”

    LOL. That reminds me of something that happened to my Dad when he was stationed in Italy aftr the war. But I won’ repeat it here.*
    * (or maybe I will?)

    “*Only later did we disover that there’s not really such a thing as an advance timed ticket and you can get on any train with the same rail company that day.”

    Like a mini Eurail pass!
    (also, ‘disover’ needs a ‘c’ to ‘complete’ it)

    Cheers

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      1. Alas, in a family of her size** it’s not unexpected (not intending so sound harsh saying that).

        The death was of an aunt in her early 90’s. We know what that’s like.

        The other was a great nephew in his early 20’s (sigh). My wife was trying to get him employed by one of the drilling companies she knows from working up north, as she knew he was going in the wrong direction in life. But, she couldn’t get it done it time. (she actually had him set up for a job interview but he blew it off). 😒

        One can only do what one can.

        Cheers

        ** – My darling wife is one of 12 children; her mother was one of 18. She has family all over the west coast, mainly up in northern BC and the Yukon.
        (thankfully none too close to us, which is the way both of us like it) 😉

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  4. I have fond memories of Courage Bulldog because it was still around in bottles in Sainsbury’s when I first became properly interested in beer c.1990. One of those strong English ales with a definite hint of peardrops, which you don’t really find anymore.

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    2. I bought a bottle of Bulldog in the 1970s, just one.
      it was their Imperial Russian Stout that was Courage’s exceptional bottled beer. My oldest was brewed in 1969.

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