This is the most wonderfully ‘blokes pub’ establishment you could wish for. No bad thing, it must be pointed out, but it is as if a checklist has been drawn up of all the things a certain type of gentleman (NB this is people like me) requires from his favourite drinking den:

• A range of seating areas, from two-person table to large chesterfield armchairs.
• Carpets, to reduce echoes and induce calm murmuring
• A few interesting ales, but enough steady lagers within reach if you’re getting edgy
• An assortment of ‘areas’ depending on your mood
• Crisps, nuts, but let’s not push the boat out into real food

I failed to check if there were newspapers on display above the urinals, but it would be a rare omission on their part if this wasn’t the case.

Thanks, Bristol Information, for the image.

A recent Wednesday night visit saw the Navvy’s demographic out in force – groups of gentle-minded fellows of a range of ages, but none at either end of the spectrum (you know, lurid t-shirts or mad-eyed warhorses). And when I say ‘fellows’, I mean it – there was not one woman amongst them. It is not a fearsome, testosterone-fuelled place, though – but it is as male as worn corduruoy trousers, a cheerful tie, a cheese and sausage sandwich. It is pub as pair of slippers, a pub that doesn’t know much but knows what it likes. It may not be taking many risks, sure – but why would it want to?