Revisit: The Walsall Arms

Original Post Here.

I’d heard good things about The Walsall Arms since it reopened, and finally got there, and the reputation is deserved- a lively atmosphere, nice looking beer garden, and the skittle alley is still there. A great welcome, nice locals, and top-notch beer too- about our only reservation was the slightly bland decor and we preferred the layout before it was opened up, but still a great pub, and deservedly popular.

Flan O’Briens (The Borough Arms)


This pub is a real landmark, a beautiful building- a lovely sight if you drive up Lower Rushall St: a proper terracotta-and-tile 19th century pub, and surprisingly, there’s some great stuff inside too; tiling and woodwork.

It’s been a loosely-Irish pub since the Irish pub boom of the nineties, but in more recent times, it’s gone a bit downhill in clientele- sadly there were some EDL types present (presumably a hang-over from the march in town that day). The Stella was serviceable, but no ale. Cheap, though, and the barmaid was very pleasant- but it just could be lovely; it could be a Woodman quite easily.

The Angel


This was, well, as Andy describes, vibrant. As in “let’s drink up and go” vibrant. No ale, lairy customers (staffy on a rope, for a start), loud music, shouty people with hi-viz and/or paint-stained tracky bottoms, girls with less clothing and more bad tattoos than would be desireable. The lack of ale didn’t even allow for a decent lager, which made the fast drink-up even less pleasureable, but at least it meant we had time for the better pubs.

The Three Crowns


Part of the Dorbiere chain (not one I’d heard of before, but this is their most southerly pub), this is right in the middle of town, and looks to have been refurbished fairly recently: it’s traditional pub inside, but the carpet is modern. There’s real ale, but sadly one was on the sour side and the other ran out, but the staff handled that well and the atmosphere was nice- welcoming even at 10pm on Saturday.

The Ring o’Bells


This could have been a cracker. Traditional decor, a backstreet drinker’s pub, but it all went a bit wrong. No ale of any description, and no lager you’d actually want to drink, so I plumped for Guiness, which proved to be a can poured and put on one of those ultrasonic surger devices, and the others whatever dreadful keg bitter was about. The pub was busy, but the combination of loud music, shouting and a good proportion of wandering kids meant it wasn’t very pleasant. Pity.