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Situated at row-level this quiet gloomy bar is decorated with yellowing wallpaper and red dralon seating. Though it's been here since Genghis Khan was a young man, people don't come here for a historic frisson - they come to drink beer. In the daytime middle-aged solitary drinkers come for a good pint and a quiet read of the newspaper; in the evening a younger crowd fills the place. For this is a Samuel Smiths house, and that means good beer, served cheap.
The entrance is discreet, the pub does not make a show of itself. Thick leaded panes prevent you from seeing inside before you enter. Once inside you are enclosed in a fusty womb-like sanctuary. Ceilings are low, wood panelling makes for quiet corners and the atmosphere seems smokey, even when it isn't.
Come here with your mates for some good, old-fashioned session drinking.
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