The Red Lion, Bakewell

This place was a godsend in the pub desert that is Bakewell. A quirky entrance led to (authentically) wood-panelled interiors and the choice of tables was vast, given that we were the only drinkers in, on a Tuesday night. A pint of Pedigree loosened one member's silver tongue but the barmaid was having none of his blarney. She acquitted herself with composure and charm and offered up some other quite palatable beer for the rest of us. I forget what it was. Worth popping into, if you're in Bakewell, but don't make a special effort. Better to venture onwards towards Monsal.