The Elleray

Windemere:

A debate ensued over hotel or pub, and Stymistress persuaded me that it was pub, despite having rooms and the wanky “eat drink sleep” slogan. We didn’t enter in the best of moods, having had a rare loss of public transport mojo, so we were less than enthused. Trying to be objective, it was OK: beer and staff were fine, it was just a it modern-trendy stripped floor slightly-posh, but overall it wasn’t bad at all, and being at the edge of town, near the station, it was a little quieter, and handy for the bus back.

The Queens

Windemere:

A mistake: our bus ride to Windemere was on a bus that called everywhere, so it took a long time. This meant we missed food times at The Queens (which seems a bit odd, I’d have thought serving all day would make good money), but we stayed for a drink. A nice, traditional pub, good beer and wine, and outside space (which sadly highlighted the fact that Windemere really needs a bypass). I’d imagine it could get very, very busy.

The Snug

Carnforth:

A micropub at Carnforth station, and a fine example too: great beer, conversation, no TV, no music, no gaming machines. Casks stored in a chiller at the back of the room. About the only criticism I could make is tall chairs and tables, but besides that, perfect. Short opening hours: 12-2 lunchtimes, 5-9pm Tues-Sat, 12:30-4:30 Sunday.

The Kings Arms

Morecambe:

Big seafront pub- a huge space downstairs, open plan, and almost as large in the sports bar upstairs. Not my perfect kind of pub, but it does the family feedbag thing quite well (though we didn’t eat) downstairs, and keeps the loud TVs and shouting upstairs, which seems good to me. Staff friendly, beer not bad at all (and well priced), and there’s a good amount of seafront outside seating, which suited us on a sunny day.

The Eric Bartholomew

Morecambe:

Morecambe’s spoons. I don’t think we caught it at a good time, mid afternoon on a sunny bank holiday, but this was the grimmest pub of our holiday. It got off to a bad start with only dark ales on offer- in summer, compounded it by the usual spoons trick of making the toilets a considerable hike, added to it again by not allowing us to take our drinks outside (so why provide fucking tables?), and finished it off with the typical food detritus, sticky table, and noisy children combo that can affect a Wetherspoons all too often. We left, quickly, for the seafront pubs and a pint in relative peace.

In Ur Pubz, Drinkin Ur Beerz