There are many great examples of things which are greater than the sum of their parts; fish and chips, bacon sandwiches, those three berks from Top Gear etc etc. However the converse is also true & despite having apparently all the correct constituent parts some things remain inexplicably, utterly and irredeemably shite; less than the sum of its parts (any film with Jared Leto in it or TV programme presented by Tess Daly is a good place to start for examples).
Picture the scene. A canal side location. West facing beer garden next to the water. Greene King (a decent brewery) offerings on tap. Ample inside seating set eccentrically across a few levels. A snug. A free pool table.
You’re probably thinking about popping your coat on right now and looking at how to get to this shangrila. Stop it. Sit down. Remember the first paragraph. It was important content. It was a warning.
Of all the pubs I’ve visited this may well be the greatest opportunity I’ve seen missed for greatness. As, despite all those factors going for it, and more, it is stupendously disappointing.
The simplest explanation for this squandered potential is that nobody loves it. If you approach with a discerning eye you can start to spot the problems a mile off. The scruffy piles of empty barrels regularly visibly down the side, the skip, the broken parasols, the busted fence, the dirty dog water bowls scattered all around the benches, even a caravan in the car park for a bit of light dogging should that take your fancy. It screams at you that it is uncared for in any meaningful sense.
Obtaining a drink is usually priority number one in pub and if you’ve willfully overlooked or were oblivious to some of those outside warnings then prepare for another. Despite having enough staff to crew a large cruise vessel there is rarely anyone at the bar & they’re usually alone when present, reluctantly multitasking at a vast horseshoe bar that doesn’t make their task any easier. These disinterested lollygaggers are also regularly guilty of allowing one of the great modern scourges of pubs to manifest beneath their very noses; the dreaded bar queue. A great line of menu clutching halfwits defying both reason and logic & extinguishing any thought of popping to up for a second swift pint.
Plenty of decent and fairly interesting places to sit & you’ve got a fair choice of screen for sport or window over the marina. Once seated you’ll likely spot a steady stream of plates coming from the kitchen, sadly not enough of those plates head back into the kitchen in good time once they’ve been cleared of their aggressively beige and universally fried offerings (can you fry a salad?). A pint amongst crockery & elbows of tomato ketchup are a common hazard here, especially at the weekend where ‘children’ frolic hither and yon with sauce dipped fingers, waiting to strike.
Is it as horrible as I’m making out? No, I’m being characteristically melodramatic, and have admittedly enjoyed more than a few pints here especially when the weather is good and you can sit by the water in the sun. It’s just deeply frustrating to have such a plethora of ‘good pub’ components yet end up sitting in an environment which falls this short. It’s probably nothing more than a passionate bar manager or a change of landlord & from being superb. However, for now, it is less than the sum of its parts.
