retiredmartin

July 2026. Saltaire. Bradford.

While the organist played us hymns modern and ancient in Saltaire’s United Reformed Church I devised a plot to get Mrs RM to visit a pub (she’s a reformed character this last week).

“Mum loved those Fanny Crosby hymns that the Salvation Army band played, especially Blessed Assurance” I tell her.

“There’s a famous pub round the corner called “Fanny’s by Gaslight “named after her hymn composition“.

“That sounds worth a visit” says Mrs RM. It’s nice to know your wife takes your word as gospel; I’ve always wanted a Surrendered Wife™.

Well, Fanny’s is always worth a visit, though it might not look quite as ancient as I remembered. Perhaps it’s more a pub for the winter night than the afternoon heatwave.

A mixed crowd and a cheery landlord. And a touch of the nearby Fighting Cock about it, a sprawl of rooms and Tim Taylor Landlord the flagship cask.

Only six years since my last visit and I’d already forgotten the upstairs with its eclectic juke box (everything except “Blessed Assurance”), and I missed the snug completely,

but Mrs RM had perched herself in the back room next to the cinema seats,

whispering about a barefoot girl without a drink reading a book. Actually, she’d just finished her pint, leave her be.

For a third time the Landlord is chewy, a model of VERY GOOD pint, the Bosun’s decent enough.

Mrs RM had been checking her fellow travel bloggers, who all recommended a rather different pub when in Saltaire…