Sir Issac Pitman, Trowbridge

Good grief! If your website can't even spell the surname of one of Trowbridge's most famous citizens, I utterly despair. It's Sir ISAAC Pitman, dammit!

21 Aug 2012 17:07

Anchor and Hope, Trowbridge

Out on my racing bike one evening I spot a group of elderly drinkers playing cribbage outside the Anchor & Hope. Taped to the window is a faded notice boasting�"Moles bitter��2.50 a pint."�

I'm gagging for one, so I park the bike. But as I head for the door, exchanging "good evenings" with the crib-players, I hear a thunderous fart, followed by gales of laughter as the ageing crib group demand more ale.

And, suddenly, I think: this is my sort of pub. Fine Melksham bitter. No food. Friendly faces. Oodles of laughter. The occasional playful fart. And a tiny white pub dog called Dylan who sits on my table outside and, I swear, almost talks to you as he watches the world go by.

So why had I never used this place before? Why, indeed? For the Moles bitter is sublime. Sitting in the evening sun, I down two pints in about eight minutes. Then another. Then another two. Beautiful, gluggable stuff. And after 90 glorious minutes I begin my five-mile ride home in the dark. Lord knows how I make it down a hugely steep, winding hill near my home.

Two evenings later I'm back there quaffing more of this hearty brew, evoking stark memories of my ale-sodden days as a reporter in the Sixties before a lifetime of tossing pots professionally in some of Fleet Street's most shameless watering holes.

True, the Anchor's not much to look at. But to hell with that. The friendly atmosphere and sporting banter positively buzz. If you love good ale, you'll experience a wondrous, beery blast from the past in this white-washed haven far from those dreary gastro-pubs, with their fearful pong of curry and chips!

But hold on now! My fifth pint of Moles has just arrived.

Ah, thank you, Dylan . . . and cheers!

18 Aug 2012 15:35