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Union Inn

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GB from Devizes
GB from Devizes
First Reviewer
5 out of 5
Avg. Member Rating
1
Review
3
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Editor Pick

The Union Inn

  • May 14, 2007
  • Rated 5 of 5 by GB from Devizes from Devizes, United Kingdom
The Union Inn

This traditional village pub looked the more “worn” from it’s exterior appearance than the other two in the village, but I decided to give it a go and I’m glad I made that decision. It’s cozy inside, with the obligatory open fire and walls festooned with agricultural implements. The welcome was immediate, “Hello, mate, what can I get you?” The Dartmoor Pig looked good so I opted for a pint of this local ale and retired to a nook to study the place.

The barman had a very recognizable Bristolian accent and when I returned for a refill after 15 minutes or so, I asked him where he was from. “Shirehampton, mate”, he replied jovially, “just outside Avonmouth”. He then introduced me to Veronica, his wife, who doubled up as chef in the kitchen behind the bar area, and then introduced himself as Richard.

“What a friendly pair they are”, I thought to myself, upon which I was introduced to some of the other locals who were guzzling at the bar. “This here is Gobby Jock, village handyman, drunkard, and lothario”. Well, what a CV, how do you possibly follow that?

Rich introduced me to several more fellow drinkers and after 30 minutes we were all lifelong bosom buddies. The beer kept flowing along with some of the fearsome local scrumpy cider which I was invited to sample by Rich “as long as I was held responsible for my own actions”. I took a swig and well, good God, you could strip paint with this stuff, so I wonder what it does for the stomach lining?

The atmosphere in here was wonderful and the place continued to fill up as the evening wore on, predominantly with locals who rather interestingly, all opted for the dreaded scrumpy, male or female. They all must have cast iron guts.

It then transpired that tonight was karaoke night and Jock wheeled out the necessary equipment. He decided to begin by showing us all how it was done and proceeded to belt out Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” totally off-key in a Scottish accent with probably eight pints of the local moonshine slopping away inside him. Needless to say, it was a memorable performance and he received a huge round of applause along with various other less printable requests that he surely would need to be double jointed to perform.

The clock was ticking away and I realized that it was well after 11pm. I went to the bar to order what I thought would be my last pint of the evening. “No rush”, said Rich, “we close when everyone’s either gone ‘ome or fallen over. If they stay ‘ere for the night, we prop ‘em up in a chair and give ‘em a kick when we come down at 7:30am”.

What a fabulous pub, what an extraordinarily funny evening, and what amazing local dignitaries the village possesses. It still makes my head hurt thinking about it now.

From journal Under Canvas in North Devon

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