It's been over three weeks since the last piece of drivel hit the blog. Things have been a little bit busy on the health, or should that be ill-health, front. With more MRI scans, blood tests, consultant chats, pre-op assessments and other everyday stuff, bygone boozers have had to take a bit of a back seat. Although I have managed to upload a photo of the Silver Winkle money box to the post on Cambridge's lost Heart of Oak. Thanks to Fiona for that. If you haven't read that post, or just want to see the Silver Winkle, then simply click here.
I did, however, between the pre-op assessment and the date with my theatre staff, manage to fit in this spring's quarterly trip of exploration with former colleague Eric. Our previous adventure had seen us visit my hometown of Gorleston and having already explored his former student haunts of Sheffield it was time to visit my alma mater and some of the hostelries I frequented half a century ago.
Our first port of call was Patrick's Irish Bar.
Back in the day this was the Menai Vaults. It was one of a number of establishments in the city which would offer you wares from Ind Coope. Now its handpumps are adorned with clips from Facer's of Flint.
Our next target was Tafarn Y Glôb, just around the corner in Albert Street. In spite of its whatpub entry assuring us that it opened at noon we found that it didn't. Oh well, on to the next place on the list, the Belle View.
The last time that I'd been in the BV was immediately after sitting one of my final biochemistry exams. My mates were still scribbling away but, having been sat staring at the clock for the previous fifteen minutes and without another word about the biosynthesis of stercobilinogen IV appearing in my answer booklet, I'd decided to cut my losses, leave the exam room before the embargo on late egress was enacted and go for a pint.
That is still the last time that I've been in the BV for, as we approached, we didn't need to cross the road and read the notice on the door to appreciate that it wouldn't be opening for a lunchtime session either. Further along Holyhead Road we passed another closed pub, but this did not come as a surprise as the Brunswick Vaults closed in the early part of the twentieth century. The extract from the Ordnance Survey's 1888 town plan below marks six pubs that weren't open that Thursday lunchtime, the two we were expecting to patronise and four historic closures, including the Brunswick at 15 Holyhead Road.
The Brunswick Vaults first seems to have made an appearance in Upper Bangor around 1860. I can find no reference to it in either directories or censuses before 1861 when Irishman Edward Duffy and his family were recorded as being at the Brunswick Vaults on High Street.
'High Street' threw me for a bit. I can only assume that this thoroughfare in Upper Bangor was eventually renamed Holyhead Road for a decade later the Brunswick, now occupied by Owen Jones and his spouse, still had butcher Owen Hughes, along with wife Ellen, living next door.
Ten years later Owen Jones is to be found running the Marlborough Vaults at 323 High Street. That's the real High Street which still exists today, even though the Marlborough has long since disappeared. It looks like he might've been rather fond of vaulting for Slater's directory of 1880 lists an Owen Jones at the Manchester Vaults, 15 Holyhead Road. Does this address sound familiar? Yes, it's the same address that the Brunswick seems to have occupied for the bulk of its life. Was Owen still there in 1880 and the compiler had simply became confused with there being the Manchester Arms at number fourteen, just across the road? Who knows?
Who knows who was running the Brunswick in 1881? I don't! Owen Jones was certainly at the Marlborough by then and the Brunswick seems to have disappeared into another dimension. Whilst number seventeen is listed in the census, along with all the other places along Holyhead Road, Britannia Street and Snowdon View, the Brunswick is conspicuous by its absence. Wherever it had disappeared to, it had returned by 1891 when Joseph Jenkins would've been mine host.
I know that Joseph hadn't been there in 1881 and I also know that he'd left by 1895 when John Gregson was listed by Slater as being the proprietor.
John Gregson was still in residence at the time of the 1901 head count...
...and I can't help but wonder if this isn't John's wife Mary and one of their sons.
By the time that the next census came around in 1911 15 Holyhead Road was no longer a pub. Today it houses Dimensions, a health food shop.
The Brunswick had finished with beer, but Eric and I were still looking for some more so we headed off for the Harp only to find – yes, you've guessed – that it too was closed. Nothing else for it than to cross the High Street – the proper one – and enter the Black Bull.
The Black Bull/Tarw Du didn't exist in Owen Jones or John Gregson's day. It didn't used to exist, at least not as a boozer, in my day either. What was once a catholic church is today part of Tim Martin's empire.
Here it is on one of Valentine's postcards, opposite another of the city's bygone boozers, the Red Lion.
When I remarked that the Black Bull didn't exist in the time of Owen and John, a Black Bull did. It was demolished to allow the church to be built on the site in around 1844. What goes around comes around!
Stepping through the church door we found the usual Spoons' offerings on the handpumps, but alongside the Greene King IPA and Abbott was this couple.
We had to try them – and we did. Both of them!
It was so pleasant sitting in the sunshine with the view up to Top Coll...
...that we just had to stay for another. That second pint lead to a surprising discovery about this Wetherspoons, namely that there were only four steps to be negotiated to reach the loos!
Not wishing to line Mr. Martin's pockets any further, we headed out to continue our way along the High Street aiming for the Albion. With my two most regular haunts of the Bulkeley Arms and the Union having closed, of the other pubs in Bangor, the Albion was probably the third most visited in my student days. Back then it sold a range of ales from Cheshire's Burtonwood Brewery, now there was just one handpump on the bar so we both had one of those. Whatever it was. If I can't remember the brew I do remember sitting supping it in a large, comfortable armchair.
From the Albion we continued along the High Street passing a number of other bygone boozers, including the former Kings Arms, before arriving at the Skerries.
With no cask ale on offer here, we settled for a couple of Hobgoblin IPAs and struck up a conversation the folk at the bar, listing all the pubs that had gone and reminiscing about some of the landlords/landladies. Pete at the Bulkeley, Mrs P at the Union, Dave at the Auckland across the water in Menai Bridge...
...before settling down at a table where we were joined by Bruce.
With Bruce having consumed innumerable treats and with our IPAs quaffed, it was time for something to soak up our afternoon's imbibition, so we continued on our journey along High Street – the longest High Street in Wales, I'll have you know – to Beach Road. My mental map had obviously faded with the passing of time or I'd have nipped us along Strand Street to come out at the Nelson. As it was, it only added a couple of minutes onto our journey to the pier. I couldn't help but ponder what Mrs P would have thought if she'd been able to see the state of the Union (later the Boatyard), all boarded up. Our reasoning behind this choice was that upon arrival, if we fancied another beer before eating, or even afterwards, or possibly even both, then we could pop into the Tafarn Y Garth, the boozer formerly known as the Tap and Spile, after eating at Nomi. I mean, having a curry after a few beers is the law, isn't it?
Having consumed one of the nicest curries that I can ever recall eating, and I've had quite a few, the thought of adding more beer to our gastric contents was just too much to contemplate, so we decided to head back into Upper Bangor.
On the half-hour walk back to our accommodation, at around half past eight on a nice, mild spring evening, I was struck by the number of other people who were out and about. On that walk we encountered just one other person. That's right, just one. Considering our route passed a number of Halls of Residence and it was a Thursday evening in term time, where were all the students? Fifty years ago I'd have been out. All my mates would've been out. Loads of folks that I didn't know along with their mates would've been out and the pubs would've been packed. There were thirty-two pubs in Bangor in the mid-1970's and I experienced them all. Admittedly many just the once, but I was out and about. Today there is about half that number even though the student population of the city has more than doubled. We might not be in that different dimension that the Brunswick may have disappeared into back in 1881, but we're certainly in a different time. Ni ddaw doe byth yn ôl.
The Ordnance Survey map extract is copyright and has been reproduced with the permission of the National Library of Scotland under the terms of this CC BY licence.
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