STANDING AT THE BAR

May 2025. North Yorkshire.

There’s been a lot of Yorkshire on this blog this year. I won’t apologise; Yorkshiremen never apologise (I assume, having listeded to Geoffrey Boycott on Test Match Special all those years). Am I a Yorkshireman yet ?

This year’s “pub just outside Northallerton” is one of those that will split opinion, depending when you visit and who you visit with.

My impression of the Black Bull in tiny Great Smeaton (pop. 187) will be different from that of previous visitors noted by Wikipedia. “Many armies have passed through the village over the years, including that of William the Conqueror on his way north. Anne of Denmark had dinner at Smeaton on 10 June 1603.“

A solid looking place, with solid looking bench seating,

and solid ’70s soundtrack.

Your take on a pub, even more than a restaurant or Chinese takeaway, can vary by the day and the hour.

Sunday afternoon, as so often in rural England is when the locals come to stand at the bar.

I know CAMRA folk on Discourse moan about not being able to see the pumps; I don’t care what’s on the wickets (ugh), I just wanted to buy a pint. A local returning back from the Gents orders his Moretti over my head, as if I’m invisible.

It’s not “An American Werewolf in London“, more that sense of feeling really, really left out of it. If Mrs RM had been with me it would have been fine, as in Ipstones, she’d have loved the naff pop. But on your own when everyone else is standing at the bar you just feel a bit weird.

I sit on the bench with my Theakston, soft and chewy, and admire a Northern head so large that a better man than I would have asked for a top-up.

I am NEVER asking for a top-up.

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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.

4 thoughts on “STANDING AT THE BAR”

    1. They’re entitled to stand or sit they want, it’s just the image of the locals round the bar, blocking the way for the visitor and shouting their order over his head.

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  2. So, you don’t like a pillow on the top of your beer but you’re not going to say anything in case someone has brought a pitchfork to the pub. Is that a fair summary?

    I assume there’s a gibbet at the crossroads with the last southerner who asked for a top up dangling (jangling? jingling, even) in the breeze.

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