In this crazy mixed up world in which we live, there are but a few constants. Bad Chinese food. Those little yappy dogs. Australians. And, of course, wherever you might roam, from Montpellier to Machu Picchu, you will find faux Irish bars. Some are good, some are bad, and some (shudder) serve chilled Guinness.
One thing I’ve always wondered about, however, is why there are not more English style pubs? The short answer might be that no-one likes poor service, rude patrons and warm beer. But that, I feel, is a somewhat myopic view of what a pub can be. I lived for a while in the south west of England, and whilst I’m not going to attempt to convince you of the merits of drinking beer at around room temperature (here’s a clue, though; it makes it taste nicer), I became very fond of a quiet pub on a Sunday afternoon, no gaudy neon, juke box quietly ticking over in the corner; hey, I even got to like the crappy food. Read more
