The Cock & Greyhound, Whitchurch

A nice-looking pub on the edge of the town centre, lucky to have not literally fallen a victim to a traffic scheme some years ago, though it quite clearly used to face in a different direction, having a front door which once opened onto what is now a pavement that is too narrow to walk upon safely, so that entry has to be by what must once have been a side door. (Opposite is a conserved section of medieval town wall that was found during these roadworks, said to have been on the line of a Roman wall.) This door leads into an interior that was a bit of a surprise to me as I had expected something a bit more food oriented or classy, or both; it was pleasant enough, but closer in feel to the nearby White Bear than the Black one. The bar counter was quite lengthy, as though to allow three or four servers to be in action at once, but on this quiet midweek evening the solitary lass was able to devote herself to my needs. There was a solitary clipped hand pump and five others out of action. The pump clip was a hard to read affair of which I could just make out the word Glacier. I pulled a bit of a face and said “is that the only beer you’ve got on?” To which I got the reply, “there’s John Smiths or Guinness”. (Though admittedly the word “ale” was not used by either of us, there’s nonetheless a tacit conflation of two non-live beers with the stuff that comes out of hand pumps. It’s like there’s a category called “not lager”.) I pulled a different face, which at least got a laugh, and an offer of a taster of the Glacier; remembering the dictum, "tasters come in halves", I asked for just that. Beartown Glacier 3.6% turned out to be a very pale ale (as might have been guessed) and was in pretty good condition (NBSS 3). Not what I’d have chosen, if given a choice, but good enough. And neither cold nor gassy, so a winner overall, and certainly a "decent drink". I found a seat and looked around. It was clearly a quiet night in Whitchurch. Something made me look at the ceiling, a good proportion of which had been lined with old doors - seemingly quite good quality, stained and varnished wood with locks and door handles still in place. Why? I expect them to feature in a nightmare any time now.