retiredmartin

July 2026. Whitchurch. Shropshire.

Two to go, before a dash to the station and a series of gaps between trains that weren’t quite long enough to fit in more “research” in Crewe and Stockport.

The Black Bear is the pub in that Visit Shropshire guide, mainly because it’s a restaurant.

A chap barges past me to win the race to the bar, only to make a dinner reservation rather than buying a beer.

Take a look at this upstairs room;

and if your first thought isn’t “Oi that looks like a Brunning & Pricey !” then you’re not following this blog very closely. Sure enough, this is one of founder Jerry Brunning’s excellent pubs (see also : The Hare in Farndon).

Like Spoons (on a much smaller scale), pubs like the Black Bear know their market.

Toby jugs, weathered beams, ’70s AOR soundtrack,

a daily menu* with its own beer,

and ultra polite staff.

I recognise the high standards of service you get here; it’s just the standing on ceremony and excess politeness from the customers that isn’t really me.

Their own beer is from Magic Dragon (them again) and gets better after a dull start (GOOD).

“Have you got a beer that tastes a bit lemony or elderflowery ?” asks a lady who is shortly to be devastated by the closure of the garden where she wants to nip for a fag.

The barmaid confidently recommends Damm Lemon**, the sort of confidence you get in expertly staffed upmarket dining pubs.

Great view of the church from the upstairs window,

downstairs, a little too much Fleetwood Mac for comfort.

* _{That’s actually a great menu for such a smart pub. Beef and mushroom stroganoff with noodles for a tenner TODAY is a bargain.}

**_{she didn’t like it. No idea what she had in mind.}