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The Shropshire Swillers, Ironbridge (2024)

24/11/2024

1796: The Black Horse in Bridgnorth records it's first landlord. Napoleon marches on Italy. 1810: The Black Horse is first licensed. Napoleon marries Marie-Louise though his alliance with Russia is broken off. 1815: Patrons of the Black Horse celebrate. Napoleon is sent to St Helena for his second, and final, stint in exile. We'll return to that final word in a minute.

This grand old coaching inn, which expanded into the former shop next door in 2016, still boasted her stables and the old rugby club showers when the current landlord arrived some 25 years ago. Look at the rugby club logo here and you've got a black horse and a black bull on it - the club was founded at the Black Horse in 1962 but moved their HQ across the road to the Bull Inn in 1976, a place they've recently left after building their very own clubhouse next to their ground.

Returning to the word, exile just about sums up our time at number 272 and it wasn't until we crossed the threshold and committed the Guard that we realized that we were bound for St Helena. In other words, we were informed that dogs were only allowed in the conservatory. We know that some people don't like dogs in pubs, and the landlord explained that was the reason here, but surely outright banishment would be a better policy overall!

Picture your ideal inn. For me, there's plenty of timber, a rich history, a roaring fire, football on the telly and more hand pulls than you could count on one hand. We had it all, right there for the taking at the Black Horse...and then we were exiled, with no warmth from the fire, no view of the telly, no chatting with any of the locals and just a gaming machine for company over my excellent pint of Bathams. I see your John 11:35 and raise you Thessalonians 5:22, and lament what was so nearly ours. Though we know we can't go back with Darcy it wouldn't put me off returning with the chaps as this is, all dog related cynicism aside, an absolutely brilliant pub!

20/11/2024

The 2nd of November is not an acceptable date to have the Christmas decorations up. The Bandon Arms in Bridgnorth is our number 271.

A pub has stood on the site of the Bandon Arms since 1726 when an inn known as the Hand & Bottle operated here fully equipped with a malthouse, a cock-fighting pit and an in-house Masonic Lodge. The present inn dates to the early 19th century when, under the Hazeldine family, it was renamed to the present name in 1839 after their adjacent Bandon Lane foundry where in 1808 the world's first passenger steam locomotive "Catch-Me-Who-Can" was built to Richard Trevithick's design. This is a handsome Georgian building brimming with history but all hopes that this would be reflected in the interior were swiftly dashed on entry.

A fireplace, monstrous in stature judging by the chimney stack, has sadly been removed entirely (though we suspect this was done decades ago) and it was within the husk that we sat ourselves down without even realising. Usually when we visit one of these "signature" family-friendly Marstons venues they're in purpose-built pubs like the Fallowfield, the Grazing Cow or the Squirrel but for a 200 year old inn to be given the corporate cookie-cutter treatment feels quite heretical. I had half a Banks's Amber and Charlotte had half a San Miguel after the Guinness tap failed. The bill came to £5.30. Sigh. The staff were sound in all honesty and apologised profusely, and I have to say the tunes they had on were absolutely banging.

Charlotte is significantly less cynical of these signature Marstons Inns after a lifetime with her family at the Grazing Cow and found the Bandon Arms quite homely and familiar as a result of this. I get the point of them, they're family friendly while trying to maintain an adult environment though I couldn't help but ponder, with a keen imagination, at those inns sold by the commercial puppet masters quite recently and wondered at what alternative present may have lay ahead of the Bandon Arms had it joined their ranks. "I've got no strings to hold me down, to make me fret or make me frown. I had strings but now I'm free, there are no strings on me".

18/11/2024

Charlotte brought Darcy over to Hadnall to meet me for a post-work pint at the New Inn, a pub I've driven by thousands of times over the years and has always intrigued me but even more so since the closure of the Saracen's Head further up the road in 2014. With nothing to go off on initial expectations, number 270 ended up as a marvellous visit and we expect to be back another time as a result!

The New Inn, true to the name, was the younger of the two village pubs and was first licensed as a beerhouse in 1864. An orchard and small pond were once kept by the roadside but these have sadly been removed with the building of the car park. During the war, the New Inn would play a part in the Home Guard defence of Hadnall with an old car kept in the orchard to act as a road block should Operation Sea Lion have gone ahead, and over the road by the pine tree a Home Guard trench with a sandbag parapet was dug with lines of sight across all 4 entrances to the village. Thankfully the Channel did the job and Hadnall's experiences of war were largely limited to aircraft crashes.

The established local crowd at the New Inn has been bolstered by those staying at the two caravan parks nearby and as a result you meet an assortment of folk with various accents and lifestyles in the carpeted public bar. We can tell they have a tight-knit community here in Hadnall but we were made ever so welcome by all in attendance and Darcy had herself a grand old time thanks to one local gentleman who arrived armed with an arsenal of dog treats, which was much needed for the battalion of canines that ended up gathered around him. HPA and Old Speck were available on the hand pulls and we had one of each, owd Cyril would have been proud of Charlotte getting an Old Speck down her and both ales were kept impeccably. We had a cracking time at this proper village local and look forward to coming back, most of all Darcy I think!

15/11/2024

Our final pub of the night would be the Crown & Anchor Vaults where we had ourselves a big fat dirty chicken shish from the takeaway around the corner for tea while Darcy looked on in envy. The sawdust on the floor, the only pub in Shropshire to feature this, set the tone immediately at number 269 which has established itself as, seemingly, the musical mecca of South Shropshire.

The Vaults dates to 1832 and though it appears to have once consisted of several rooms now features an open plan single room which helps any playing acts to be watched from most areas of the pub. The bar, which sits centrally and covers around 270 degrees, has been constructed in an artistic Victorian manner of dark timber and stained glass and is surrounded by the pillars, standing proud like sentries, that hold up the ceiling. We occupied the bench seating on the left hand side with our pints of Guinness and Ludlow Gold and Darcy was more than happy, after asking politely, to occupy a seat herself after an evening lying on tile and wood.

This is a very interesting pub and is unashamedly so. Twinned with the Six Bells and featuring the same exterior colour scheme, the Vaults was quite a way to finish off Bishop's Castle and like the Kings Head was, sorry to all involved, too loud for our miserable ears to deal with as a mix of heavy metal and hip hop was once again dialed up to 11. The Nicholsons, who we'd bumped into a few times before now, once again proved welcome company and joined us for a lengthy chat ahead of the same again at the Castle Hotel where we had our final drinks of the evening before retiring to bed. Bishop's Castle, you've been an eye-opening delight and proved a grand old stay all in all with friendly, open people, wonderful architecture and stunning views across the hills and forests of this peaceful corner of our county.

14/11/2024

"I actually hope we lose soon" isn't said by many rugby players but the "my liver can't cope with this much longer" explains the rock and a hard place situation the, let's say battle-weary soldiers, are presently in. The thing is, Bishops Castle Rugby Club can't stop winning, and every time they do, they hit the King's Head hard fully clad in costume. I assumed at first that this was all a Halloween jolly but nope, it was just another Saturday for these chaps whose family names, I'm sure, were old in history when the Bishop's castle was made.

Whereas all other pubs in the town, both open and closed, feature their date plaques prominently I couldn't actually find the plaque for the King's Head so all I have to go off is the Grade II listing which states that it dates to the early 19th century. Through the Victorian era it offered lodgings for at least 6 boarders and was linked with the Boar's Head, now a B&B, with former landlords being related to one another.

Number 268 brought a combination of social club and medieval tavern into the mixer and proved to be a veritable cauldron of a pub featuring music and beery voices dialled up to 11 all around the public bar that only makes up a small section of this lengthy inn, with the longer spur of the L-shaped limestone building housing the back bar which comes equipped with a pool table. Accommodation is offered here as well in the form of glamping pods which is a solid way to take advantage of the courtyard space to the rear. Oppressed by the volume, Darcy retreated under the table but I had to laugh and take it all in over my pint of HPA, though Charlotte's Guinness takes the cake here as the top pint as it so often does in rugby pubs. It was good fun in the King's Head but we're not sure if we'd pop by again, I think we're too quiet and boring for the place!

12/11/2024

From the peak of the hill we descended to the very foot of it to the pumpkin-esque Six Bells where the town's second brewery once lay for some 20 years until it closed in 2018. Number 267 was a visit of particular personal importance as I dived into my first ever pint from a barrel I've delivered, having dropped off 9 gallons of Darwin's Origin here around 55 hours beforehand!

Originally a farmhouse dating to 1670, the Six Bells has been a licensed premises since 1750 when it began offering rooms and refreshment to the scores of drovers arriving in Bishop's Castle with their livestock. The 1997 brewery was not the first on this site but it was a triumphant return to brewing after 60 years when the home brewing Jones family had sold the pub to Wrekin during the 1930's. The Jones' also ran a carriage works in the yard, the 1904 warehouse of which still stands, and offered stabling through their ownership.

There's no missing this one and you best not either since the Six Bells possesses, in abundance, the je ne sais quois that makes a remarkable drinking establishment and comes in as our favourite pub of the night. Two rooms separated by the bar offer a homely environment decorated with old photos of the patrons and tenants past and retains the feel of a farmhouse living room centuries on. Both when delivering and drinking the staff and customers have been ever so helpful and friendly, and on that topic again I have to stress just how good this pint of Origin was, cementing it as an easy favourite from Salopian's core range. Probably the biggest compliment Charlotte can ever give is "I don't really want to move on" and that's exactly what she said here, though with the night going by swiftly it was time, after admiring the retained off-sales hatch in the porch, to head back up Church Street to the final two pubs of the evening.

10/11/2024

Our adoration of Three Tuns Brewery knows no bounds and through the 2 and a half years we've travelled this road a sweet, malty pint of ### has been our gold standard for Shropshire ales. Old Scrooge, Best and the Stout are all just outrageously good as well, and wherever we find any Three Tuns at all ticks a huge box for us personally. Many visitors to Bishops Castle feel the same way as we do, and for that reason are excited to visit the adjacent pub by the same name, expecting that it would be run by the brewery and packed full of their ales similar to Joules' Red Lion. Since 2003, this has not been so, and the results are far from ideal.

Number 266 is, historically, one of the most important brewpubs in the entire country and was one of only four pubs nationwide to still be home brewing by the 1970's, a number which has skyrocketed since. The inn itself dates to the 16th century, outdating the 1642 brewery, and was remodelled in the 19th century with a shop front later incorporated into the structure as the back bar which has a more traditional air than the main bar. The brewery became a separate enterprise in 2003 after a London syndicate threatened it with closure and the subsequent local campaign was able to purchase it, however this resulted in the inn eventually being sold to Heineken's Star Pubs.

Star Pubs have left the Three Tuns feeling a little soulless in our opinion and if the Three Tuns is ever going to be a genuine representation of a brewpub again it will not be under this administration. Only ### was available on the bar and at times in recent months no Three Tuns ales have been offered at all, a shocking reality which was recognized by several locals we met and spoke with during our night out. A good sign at least was that our ### was very young in the barrel and packed with its usual biscuity sweetness, though £6.45 for a pint and a half is a little steep when it's only been rolled across the yard. Perhaps we would have had a better time if we drank in the back bar and it wasn't until we left we realized it was a thing, with a few locals occupying it, though I think by the time we left we had decidedly seen enough.

09/11/2024

Ahead of Armistice Day we're looking back at the pubs we've visited that hold tales of love and loss from both the First and Second World Wars. Below are the links to 7 pub write ups containing the stories of 8 men who gave their lives both abroad and on the home front.

"Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them"

The Woodcock, Cockshutt - https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1XT88CeDWw/

The landlord's nephew James of 6KSLI was killed in action in Cambrai in December 1917

The Burlton Inn, Burlton - https://www.facebook.com/share/p/18jeirpUDh/

Long time landlady Cissy Pugh lost two sons during the Second World War; Charles in France in late 1944 or early 1945 and Francis in a road accident in 1943

The Rose & Crown, Burford -
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/18B8DzvbHM/

The landlord's son Robert of the New Zealand Field Artillery was killed during the German Spring Offensive in 1918

The Wickets Inn, Wellington -
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1GUH19zCqY/

The Wickets still possesses a roll of honour made for the Wellington men in the trenches that were recipients of ci******es or money orders by charitable donation from those at home. Many names on the list did not return home.

The Red Lion, Longden -
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/15BNz4USWC/

The local Home Guard and Anti-Aircraft Command troops frequented the Lion during the Second World War.

The Foresters Arms, Broseley -
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/15VCMHxzDr/

The landlady lost two nephews during the Great War; Harry in the Middle East and Thomas on the Somme in the same attack that killed a distant cousin of mine. We'll get to his story one day when we visit Gobowen.

The Boot Inn, Whittington -
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/15STbtAbau/

Daniel Rhodes, husband of another distant cousin of mine, lived a few doors down from the Boot and was tragically killed in an accident in the Orkneys during the Second World War.

07/11/2024

Now how's that for a view from your bedroom window? Our top floor room at the The Castle Hotel, Bishops Castle was an absolute dream and our introduction to this colourful little town got even better once we headed down for a pint in the evening sun on the terrace.

This site has been occupied since the Norman times when the Bishop of Hereford built a castle on the lofty hill to defend against the Welsh. The castle lay in ruins by the 18th century and it was in 1719 that the last of the ruins were pulled down, much of it already having gone into the wider construction of the town, and recycled to build the Castle Hotel by order of the Duke of Chandos. The Duke sold the hotel to the Walcot estate, which as we know from the Powis Arms' write up was sold to Robert Clive in 1763. Edward Clive built a market hall around the corner in 1781 and though this was demolished in the 50's the Clive coat of arms, which features an elephant, has been preserved on the site. Funnily enough, live elephants were stabled at the hotel during WW2 and their name is lent to their old stable home today.

Our visit wasn't long term planned, rather I had delivered here on my first week on the job and asked the receptionist whether dogs could stay. When the answer was yes it was a rapid decision for us both to book our room for the coming weekend and we're glad we did! On the terrace I drank Three Tuns Best and Long Mynd Cider while Charlotte enjoyed her Salopian Oracle immensely, then later on when we returned we had some more of the same and a Robinsons chaser for my nightcap. Having slept wonderfully, our fry up was excellent the next morning (Darcy enjoyed her complimentary sausage too!) and while we didn't get to eat in the famous panelled dining room it was still quite the sight to behold - it's incredible that this room, largely unchanged, made Mary Webb feel the exact same way over a century ago. With everything from the decor, drinks, food and service spot on how we like it we absolutely loved our stay at number 265 and wouldn't hesitate to stay here again!

06/11/2024

The gift of ample time ahead of our hotel check in allowed us to tick off one more pub in the area and heading north through the Onny Valley brought us to the Inn on the Green in Wentnor for our number 264.

The northern end of the more modern Inn appears on Victorian maps as the small and isolated Green Cottage, which had been split into two dwellings on a crossroads between the coach road to Ratlinghope and the farmer's track to Adstone hill which forded the River East Onny behind the cottage. These dwellings would have been miniscule indeed and in 1881, amazingly, were home to 18 people between 2 families. Green Cottage was extended southwards at some point to create an L shape with the pub occupying the longer spur, and while I'm not sure when the pub was established I suspect it may have something to do with the adjacent caravan park and campsite, the existence of which we'd expect brings a great deal of custom to the inn through the warmer months.

An eclectic crowd were in attendance for our visit including a dining family from Newtown who travelled specially for their meal, a group of local farmers and, to our surprise, a group of 15 or so youngens, not young farmers either, who'd walked from some other destination further down the road from the campsite and certainly made up the numbers at the bar. Between enjoying the excellent pint of Ludlow Gold, watching Coventry vs Luton and admiring the Shrek cutout with some poor local's face on we spoke to a few patrons and the family that were eating were very complimentary about their meals, which seemed to come in quite large portions. Though we didn't go into the restaurant area the public bar definitely has big social club vibes which we didn't expect this far out in the country but, I suppose, makes it the yin to the Crown's yang up the hill in the main village. Ready for the big show by now, Bishops Castle awaited us...

02/11/2024

In the opening stages of the victorious Battle of Plassey Robert Clive first drew the British line ahead of their defensive position in a large mango grove until French artillery fire forced him to pull the infantry, whose preservation was vital so to counter the Indian cavalry, back into the protection of the grove. On returning home to England Clive purchased Walcot Hall in Lydbury North in 1763 and, in 2024, we would experience our own Battle of Plassey in the village. Advancing uphill from Lydbury, we drew our line at a farm and encountered an artillery barrage (extremely stubborn cattle who wouldn't move and terrified Charlotte and the dog), forcing us back across the fields to the mango grove at the Powis Arms for our number 263.

When Clive purchased Walcot the pub was known as the New Inn and while the 15th century hall would be immediately rebuilt in 1764 it took several decades for the estate's attention to turn to the inn and it was by the mid 1800's that a rebuild here was sanctioned on a grand scale. Edward Clive, Robert's son, was given the title of Earl of Powis in 1804 and it was for this earldom that the pub would eventually be renamed, retaining the original name for at least the following century.

The Powis Arms' size for a small village may be one disadvantage in terms of daily cost but it's this size that affords it so many advantages otherwise. It's a pub that can do it all - a public bar for drinkers, dining rooms, a games room for pool and darts, a beer terrace and both B&B and campsite accommodation. The avenue leading to the hall has clearly been diverted from the eastern to the western side of the pub at some point and it's by the eastern lodge you'll find the terrace and campsite nestled amidst the grand trees of the estate.

3 real ales are available and we both went for the brilliant Dark Side of the Moose complemented by a spot of lunch from the menu, which has been simplified presumably for the colder months. With dark ale, steak sarnies, a tired dog, pleasant staff, pleasant pub, pleasant everything, it's fair to say we really enjoyed our time at the Powis Arms though the Clive connections on this trip don't end here!

31/10/2024

Where else in town could you be greeted at the door by an orc? In the shadow of St Mary's lies the Yorkshire House, a rare owd place for rare owd lads and lasses who like their nights mental, the floors sticky and the music loud. I used to come here every week, usually under protest for desire to reach the Nags, with a group of old friends and always drank John Smith's as I knew it'd be, if anything, consistent week after week. The "rock pub of Shrewsbury" is our number 262.

The York was first recorded as a pub in 1828 but the core of the building dates to much earlier and incorporates fine 17th century panelling into the interior. The layout is a simple U-shape with seating throughout, the bar on the left hand side and the loos, which are an experience, on the opposite end. Very little has changed here in decades and I'm almost certain that the most minor of improvements would result in a lengthy debate in Parliament. Perhaps a little over the top but, I believe, not overly unfounded; personal testament to the genuine endearment felt towards this pub by masses of her patrons as an icon of the Shrewsbury alternative scene .

There's been a lot of lasts at the York. It's the last cash only pub in the loop, the last in town to brew it's own ale and the last time they changed the carpet, now entirely worn through in most places, was 1960 judging by this Archives photograph of the front lounge! It was also the last pub for us to tick off for the day so we both intended to make it count with a pint of Westons and half a Guinness.

We enjoyed the company of Craig and Nicki, two Harlescott natives who frequent the York with Craig considering it his favourite in town as "you get genuine people here, people who'll talk to you". Darcy got plenty of attention here along with a water bowl and some treats, being allowed in on account of passing the landlady's test of "dogs are welcome as long as they get on with other dogs and people". Can't get a fairer policy than that. Though it's not our kind of place it was fun to swing by for a pint and relive some old memories, and we have to thank everyone for their warm welcome back to this interesting corner of the town!

30/10/2024

Moving on from the Salopian didn't stop me from watching the early kick off and it was at another real ale pub that we watched the second half at the Wheatsheaf in Frankwell, a Grade II listed pub that didn't always cut such a lonely figure on this street with the Old Crow, the Bell and the String of Horses for company once upon a time.

Looking upon this 1911 photo of number 261 you'd be forgiven for believing it was an entirely different pub; I know I struggled until cross referencing the name "A. Cartwright" on the pub sign. Amelia Cartwright was the widow of John Cartwright, a career publican formerly of the Cross Guns on New Street. Amelia somehow managed to juggle running the pub, brewing her own ale and raising their six children alone after John's early death, and I believe that two of their children, 13 year old Percy and 12 year old Roy, are in this picture outside their family pub.

Plenty of change has happened here in the last century - a whole floor has been taken off the pub, the bottom floor rendered, the front door turned into a casement window and the adjoining building demolished to create the car park and courtyard extant today where the Tentsheaf has been erected. Where the tent is located was formerly Wheatsheaf Passage, where 5 dwellings once housed all manner of families and lodgers, and this space is now used to host their annual beer festival and other events.

Along with the football, a pool table is available, and on the bar you have an ample selection of ales and ciders to choose from. I found my Three Tuns ###, pulled from the ground floor air con cellar to the rear, a little too chilly for a real ale which dampened the flavour - the Yanks can crack their jokes about "warm beer" in the UK but you really cannot beat a pint of bitter at proper cellar temperature. Having also been here on their Thursday social afternoon I can definitely say that the Wheatsheaf covers plenty of ground in providing something for pretty much anyone and everyone across the 365 days of the year, which ultimately is everything that Frankwell needs in a pub!

28/10/2024

Another day out in Shrewsbury gave us the opportunity to visit some old favourites while getting a few more numbers on the board starting here at The Salopian Bar & Garden for our number 260. We'd attempted to tick off the Salopian before now on a night out a couple of years back but found it absolutely rammed with no seats spare and barely any standing room left. A daytime visit is much more reasonable with ample seating to select from in any section of the pub and, despite one or two characters managing to be really quite inebriated by midday, enjoys a steadier and more relaxed tone than in the evenings.

The Salopian was first recorded in 1861 as the Globe and was built a stone's throw away from the Smithfield cattle market which had opened 11 years prior. To mark it's connection with the market it was renamed the Smithfield in 1916 but changed names again in 1959 to the Proud Salopian when the market was moved to Harlescott. At this time it was owned by Southams brewery and it was after their founder, Thomas Southam, that the pub was renamed to commemorate his 4 separate terms as mayor of Shrewsbury. Southam's likeness still remains dotted around the pub today despite "Proud" being dropped from the name around 2 decades ago.

The blazing red and black interior betrays the age of the Salopian which, despite being a mix of a sports bar and Deano paradise indoor beer garden, absolutely excels on the real ale front, stocking several ales as regulars and one or two guests to shake things up. The Eightfold Way Irish stout by Atom brewery was an excellent way to start the day, a truly brilliant example of a stout served perfectly but I expected nothing less from the cellar of this established real ale vendor. We definitely prefer the original part of the building compared with the newer indoor garden and side bar sections but the beauty of the place is that it has something for everyone, though some say that the additions have caused a huge shift in the atmosphere which we understand. While Charlotte says she wouldn't personally return, for me I'd be quite happy to enjoy another pint or two over the early kick off again some other day!

27/10/2024

We finally settled a 2 year long argument with ourselves over whether the White Hart in Ironbridge is a pub or not and decided that it is, though we were drinking their ale long before we actually entered the pub itself after a wonderful 3 course dinner at Suree's Thai next door who have a mutually beneficial drinks partnership with the White Hart. Pale ale isn't the most traditional of pairings with a Thai dinner but green tea wasn't going to cut it on date night let's be honest!

Predating the bridge, number 259 began life as a beerhouse in the 1700's but developed into a hotel by the early 19th century, offering stabling as the second closest coaching inn to the bridge after the Tontine. Centrally located, the White Hart became a popular haunt for the bridge builders and local iron workers, and Richard Trevithick is alleged to have visited in 1802. Another person of particular note to us is the proprietor in 1911; Thomas Aston. Thomas had worked as an iron dresser before taking on the hotel and, after a bit of reading up, it turns out he lived about down the road from us in his youth while his uncle and cousins lived in our house! Through the 20th century it remained a working man's darts and dominoes pub but with the forced removal of dozens of Ironbridge families from their homes, the closure of heavy industry and the influx of tourism it has been redeveloped as a gastro twinned with the Meadow Inn, which has since been renamed the Water Rat.

To that end, it feels as though much of the historic parts of the pub have been dressed up rather than fully embraced and you're more likely to find visitors here rather than locals in a similar manner to most of the pubs along the Wharfage. That being said, we appreciate very much that a dedicated drinking area with a fire has been retained, and that 3 hand pulls were available including the excellent Bewdley Worcestershire Way. Our 2nd date was for a meal here and as we recall it was of an excellent quality, and in all fairness we'd probably say this is the second best place for a drink on the Wharfage and High Street after the Coracle.

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