Last Wednesday I took the day off from work to accompany son
Matthew on a trip to a town that neither of us had visited before. I perhaps
ought to say city, rather than town, because the Hertfordshire settlement of St
Albans is a city, on account of its 11th century cathedral. I’m not
entirely sure what prompted Matthew’s suggestion of visiting St Albans, but I
have an inkling it was a desire to visit one to the other branches of the chain
of hardware stores he works for. It is a
surprisingly short journey by train from Tonbridge, which for Matthew and I
involved a virtually seamless transfer at London Bridge, from Southeastern trains
onto a Bedford bound Thameslink service.
Despite
ample legroom, Thameslink trains have hard and uncomfortable seats. The cleanliness was also way below par, particularly in the
toilet area where the floors need attention. Shockingly, some delightful individual had left a soiled pair of Calvin Klein underpants on the toilet floor, expecting the cleaning staff to
handle with them. Sorry about that, but
standards in certain areas of our society have seriously declined! Apart from
that, the journey through Hertfordshire countryside, which wasn’t looking its
best in late February, proceeded swiftly. We arrived at our destination,
shortly after midday and began our exploration of the former Roman town.
St Albans was initially known as Verlamion, a
settlement of the Catuvellauni tribe in southeastern Britain. Around AD 50, it
became the Roman settlement of Verulamium, which subsequently developed into
the third largest town in Roman Britain. After the Romans’ departure, the
settlement transitioned into the Anglo-Saxon town of Verlamacaestir, eventually
becoming known as St Albans, reflecting its connection with Saint Alban. The St
Albans Cathedral, established in 1077, is located on the site where Saint
Alban, one of Britain’s earliest Christian martyrs, was buried.
Much of the cathedral is constructed out of bricks, many of
which were sourced from the ruined city of Verulamium. Unfortunately, the
interior of the cathedral was inaccessible due to a graduation ceremony taking
place there. More about that later, but as you didn’t come here to read about
ancient cathedrals, let’s talk about pubs instead. I had prepared a shortlist
of five pubs for us to visit, but in the end, we only visited only three of
them. Despite this, the ones that we visited were all of high quality and
certainly matched our expectations. We noted that the distance from the station
to the city centre was longer than anticipated, and certain areas of the city
were noticeably hilly. Nevertheless, our overall impression was that of a
vibrant and prosperous town in Hertfordshire.
Before stopping for a beer, we spent a bit of time exploring
some of the local shops and visited the St Albans branch of Matthew’s employer,
as he was interested in seeing it. There was also an opportunity to grab a flat
white from the local Greggs, since I didn’t get a coffee at London Bridge
station. Then, it really was time for a
beer, and where better than the Lower Red Lion, a Grade II-listed pub located
in a conservation area, just a stone’s throw from the city centre, and in one
of St Albans most picturesque streets. Passing the cathedral area on our left,
we headed downhill, and soon came to the Lower Red Lion, in the quaintly named,
Fishpool Street.
It looked like my sort of pub, and what’s more it has two
bars. We entered the bar on the left to begin with, but the friendly barmaid
advised that the other bar would be warmer, as the fire had been lit. Following
this advice, we stepped into the right-hand bar, which not only seemed larger
than the other, also had a group of 20 to 30-somethings, enjoying a spot of
lunch.
Something to eat, seemed like a good idea to us too, so after ordering a
beer for me (Side Pocket of a Toad), from Tring Brewery, plus a pint of
international lager for master Matthew. The strangely named Tring beer, which I
have previously seen on sale in several pub, was considerably better than its name,
but better still was the haddock, chips and mushy peas. Priced at £15, it was good
value for the area, and good eating as well.
The party of diners departed shortly before us, and upon
settling our bill, I asked the barmaid for directions to the Olde Fighting Cocks, our next destination. She informed me that the pub was nearby, although
we would need to retrace our steps towards the cathedral. I expressed an
interest in viewing the interior but was advised that this would not be
possible due to a graduation ceremony for students at the University of
Hertfordshire. This explained the numerous individuals we had observed wearing
academic gowns and mortar boards, accompanied by what appeared to be proud
parents and other family members.
The cathedral grounds were still open, allowing access to
the area surrounding the church. Heading downhill towards the River Ver, there
is a parkland area where the Olde Fighting Cocks pub is located. The pub claims
to be the oldest in England, dating back to the 9th Century, although several
other establishments also make this claim. The building, which is octagonal in
shape, was originally a medieval pigeon house and was rebuilt after flooding in
1599, likely caused by the nearby River Ver. Over the years, the pub’s charm
has been maintained and enhanced by its custodians, landlords, and customers.
Putting aside claims of antiquity for a
moment, the Fighting Cocks comes through as a thoroughly decent pub that is definitely
worthy of a visit. It still retains many original features such as low
ceilings, exposed beams, various nooks and crannies plus a bread oven next to
one of the fireplaces. There is a large garden to the rear with an enclosed
garden area for children. There is also some seating to the front of the pub by
the river. Internally the pub was ticking over nicely, with a healthy mix of
both diners and drinkers. An interesting range of beers was available, to tempt
the latter group with brews from Adnams, Mighty Oak, and local outfit, the 3
Brewers to tempt drinkers. I opted for the Old Man & the Sea, a 4.1% dry
stout from Mighty Oak Brewery, which was perhaps a little ambitious after the
heavy lunch I’d recently enjoyed.
It was time to move on, and after walking past the south
side of the cathedral, we arrived back in the city centre. We opted for the Boot
Inn, anther Grade II-listed, pub dating back to 1422, with low ceilings, an open
fire, although disappointingly the former dividing walls have been removed. With
the historic Clock Tower just outside the front door, and the Abbey and
Verulamium Park, close by, the Boot seems an obvious choice for visitors to St
Albans.
It certainly seemed popular when we called in, with a lively
and quite mixed crowd of punters. All were enjoying that late afternoon, early
evening beer vibe that, whilst hard to describe, is something most seasoned pub
goers will instantly recognise. Amongst others, there were beers from Tring,
Titanic (Plum Porter, no less), plus Brew York on sale. I chose Duality, a
twin-hopped pale ale from the latter outfit, a beer that was full of citrus favours, from
the Mosaic and Citra hops used.
With hindsight, we perhaps should have selected a fourth pub
to finish up in, and if we had, that pub ought to have been the Farrier’s Arms.
The latter is a classic back-street local, that was tied to McMullen’s of
Hertford for many years, before becoming a free house in 2013.
A plaque on the
wall outside marks the first meeting of the Hertfordshire branch of CAMRA, and
according to legend, the Farrier’s is the only pub in the city never to have
forsaken cask ale. A missed opportunity perhaps, but the pub was located in the
opposite direction to the station. It would have made sense to have called in
at the Farrier’s on our way to the Boot, but as I said above, hindsight is a wonderful
thing. That aside, Matthew and I both enjoyed our visit to St Albans, although
whether we’ll return, remains to be seen.
