Pub review
They say:
"Great night will visit again nice staff very friendly 👍" --Geoff Power
1/5
I say:
A pub based around what was, you guessed it kiln fans, a lime kiln. The region has a long history of brick and tile production so kilns are still a common, if deprecated, sight here. There is even a brick and tile museum that has one of the only traditional brick kilns to survive in southern England. It was one of six at the former Barham Brothers’ Yard in East Quay, Bridgwater, and was last used in 1965. But, kiln fans, you already knew that. Museum reviews are for another time though, I am here to assess the pub. Alcohol being a critical component of architectural critique and a most essential lubricant in the rating of hospitality I approach the bar. My thick generic Southern accent confuses the barmaid so I repeat the order. I suspect it won't be there first time I fail to blend in around these parts. An attractive main building fronts a higgledy-piggledy beer garden. There are two decked areas, one roofed most appealingly by wisteria. But this is summer and that roof would be as effective as an endebted Irish peasant's under English rule come the winter. A long, single-story building houses the toilets and would have been used for kilning many decades ago (this is total conjecture). Twin outdoor TVs at either end of the garden show a soft pop music channel and provide a kind of stereo effect if you angle your head correctly. Otherwise they blight the senses with their unnecessary, incessant inaneity. A rotary washing line dries a single fosters beer towel. Looking like a sort of madcap 19th century invention that was popular enough to be sold in Argos it sucks in all the charm from it's vicinity and converts it into depressing domesticity. This pub appears to be the meeting place for a large group of social cyclists as within the space of about 30 minutes lycra wearers outnumber non-lycra wearers by at least 10 to 1. I like to think my plummeting metabolism, burgeoning beer gut and general terror of inelegant decay will see me join them one day. But they look tired and the outfits they wear make them look ridiculous, alas I favour neither of those two states.
It's a big thing around here, the Carnival and in fact the sign welcoming people into the town proclaims Bridgwater as 'the home of carnival' which seems a bold claim. It's a winter carnival though so perhaps a detente can exist with Rio de Janeiro if they let the Brazilians be the home of summer carnival. It's Bridgwater's version of Bonfire Night and has similarities with the Lewes celebrations of which I am familiar. Carnival societies construct floats bedecked with coloured lights that then parade down the main roads of the town. There is also something known as 'squibbing', unique to this carnival. From the official website - 'The Squib is a large firework, strapped to a cosh (a solid block of wood which is attached to a large pole). The Squibber holds the squib at arms length above their head with the firework facing toward the sky.' I would enjoy squibbing I think though I imagine they don't just let anyone do it. A life size carnivaler stands with his firework stick in the garden of the Lime Kiln and is looks to be a homemade copy of the more substantial statue standing in the centre of Bridgwater. Cvoid has caused the cancellation of the most recent carnival, a great shame for a town which if I am being frank appears to have little else going for it. To have a source of genuine local identity and pride must count for something in a post-industrial age of dying places. The high street here is hollowed out, empty units proliferate. If you want to buy a new mobile phone, a used mobile phone, get a mobile phone repaired and have a vape or a bet on the horses while you wait then you are spoilt for choice. Indeed the statue of Admiral Robert Blake, Bridgwater's best known son, looms high over the top of the street and with an outstretched finger points to Paddy Power where they will gladly take care of your hopes, dreams and benefits cheque. The Lime Kiln has a bit of history and an untidy charm to it that shouldn't be undervalued.
3/5
They say:
"Great night will visit again nice staff very friendly 👍" --Geoff Power
1/5
I say:
A pub based around what was, you guessed it kiln fans, a lime kiln. The region has a long history of brick and tile production so kilns are still a common, if deprecated, sight here. There is even a brick and tile museum that has one of the only traditional brick kilns to survive in southern England. It was one of six at the former Barham Brothers’ Yard in East Quay, Bridgwater, and was last used in 1965. But, kiln fans, you already knew that. Museum reviews are for another time though, I am here to assess the pub. Alcohol being a critical component of architectural critique and a most essential lubricant in the rating of hospitality I approach the bar. My thick generic Southern accent confuses the barmaid so I repeat the order. I suspect it won't be there first time I fail to blend in around these parts. An attractive main building fronts a higgledy-piggledy beer garden. There are two decked areas, one roofed most appealingly by wisteria. But this is summer and that roof would be as effective as an endebted Irish peasant's under English rule come the winter. A long, single-story building houses the toilets and would have been used for kilning many decades ago (this is total conjecture). Twin outdoor TVs at either end of the garden show a soft pop music channel and provide a kind of stereo effect if you angle your head correctly. Otherwise they blight the senses with their unnecessary, incessant inaneity. A rotary washing line dries a single fosters beer towel. Looking like a sort of madcap 19th century invention that was popular enough to be sold in Argos it sucks in all the charm from it's vicinity and converts it into depressing domesticity. This pub appears to be the meeting place for a large group of social cyclists as within the space of about 30 minutes lycra wearers outnumber non-lycra wearers by at least 10 to 1. I like to think my plummeting metabolism, burgeoning beer gut and general terror of inelegant decay will see me join them one day. But they look tired and the outfits they wear make them look ridiculous, alas I favour neither of those two states.
It's a big thing around here, the Carnival and in fact the sign welcoming people into the town proclaims Bridgwater as 'the home of carnival' which seems a bold claim. It's a winter carnival though so perhaps a detente can exist with Rio de Janeiro if they let the Brazilians be the home of summer carnival. It's Bridgwater's version of Bonfire Night and has similarities with the Lewes celebrations of which I am familiar. Carnival societies construct floats bedecked with coloured lights that then parade down the main roads of the town. There is also something known as 'squibbing', unique to this carnival. From the official website - 'The Squib is a large firework, strapped to a cosh (a solid block of wood which is attached to a large pole). The Squibber holds the squib at arms length above their head with the firework facing toward the sky.' I would enjoy squibbing I think though I imagine they don't just let anyone do it. A life size carnivaler stands with his firework stick in the garden of the Lime Kiln and is looks to be a homemade copy of the more substantial statue standing in the centre of Bridgwater. Cvoid has caused the cancellation of the most recent carnival, a great shame for a town which if I am being frank appears to have little else going for it. To have a source of genuine local identity and pride must count for something in a post-industrial age of dying places. The high street here is hollowed out, empty units proliferate. If you want to buy a new mobile phone, a used mobile phone, get a mobile phone repaired and have a vape or a bet on the horses while you wait then you are spoilt for choice. Indeed the statue of Admiral Robert Blake, Bridgwater's best known son, looms high over the top of the street and with an outstretched finger points to Paddy Power where they will gladly take care of your hopes, dreams and benefits cheque. The Lime Kiln has a bit of history and an untidy charm to it that shouldn't be undervalued.
3/5
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