I am fussy about pubs. I grew up in them as my parents were publicans. They need to be cared for, offer well kept ales and I prefer them if they are not hell bent on serving food at the expense of local drinkers. No matter how beautiful they may be, if the landlords are not welcoming then it is a Crap Pub. My parents had a pub in the village where I live for 15 years until they retired. It was then the absolute hub of village life. My dad had the knack of remembering everyone's name and favourite drink after just one visit. My mum looked after everyone like they were family. Since they left in a period of not much more than 7 years there have been no fewer than six different sets of landlords come and go; four of them just awful; why the hell people who do not appear to like other people wind up running a pub is one of the mysteries of my life. Two of them were good but had to leave because as soon as they started to get successful the brewery who owns the pub got greedy and priced them out with outrageous rent demands. Whilst the four awful landlords were there it was a Crap Pub, and during the reign of the other two it was a Great Pub. We are fairly hopeful the latest arrival will be a success. He does at least smile when one goes in the place which is nice but apparently more difficult to accomplish than one might suppose.
Anyway, stop waffling on Jane. Thing is, when I go anywhere new I like to do a bit of research first on my favourite subject - good pubs - and I went to Edinburgh armed with a list of pubs I would really like to visit, and the Girl Jane Done Good, with the able and willing assistance of Reidski, and managed to get to the following pubs in the space of three days (actually two as the first day there was taken up with pre-planned social events).
If you only click on one link make it the one for the beautiful Cafe Royal, but none of the pubs visited disappointed. Many more reasons to love Edinburgh!
The Cafe Royal.
The Guildford Arms.
The Jolly Judge.
The Oxford (Failed to spot Rebus but I am sure every bloke round the bar was a policeman.)
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