Goodbye Laburnum?

Tucked away in the upper reaches of Matlock, and not that far from those other sylvan pubs The Thorn Tree and The Sycamore, the Laburnum may have closed it doors for the last time tonight. The owners, Admiral, have given the landlord, Ian, notice to quit, and despite all his hard work and enthusiasm the business is up for sale.

Very much a local local, this pub has panoramic views over the Derwent valley as well as a nearly-unique name (only one other in England, according to Google). The pub played host to a wide range of clubs and societies, all of which are now homeless - another example of how pubco greed is doing its bit for the 'Big Society'.

It joins the growing number of pubs in Matlock which have closed in the past year, including the Gate on Smedley Street East and the Horseshoe at Matlock Green.

The Butcher's Arms, Oakerthorpe

We popped in on a scouting mission to find a pub clearly devoting itself, bit by bit, to food. Most of the tables were for dining at. The beer was fine, though from a limited range, but the ambience was similar to that found in the Fisherman's Rest at Belper - older couples more interested in watching Coronation Street on the barside telly, than in actually conversing. Nonetheless, if you've reached that time in your life, a comfortable place to di(n)e in.

The Blue Stoops, Walton

 

 

First question - what are stoops? Nobody in the pub seemed to know. You'd think they'd have been asked that before, or maybe Walton folk are naturally incurious. But apparently a stoop (noun) is a step, though why they should be blue is another matter.

 

Anyway, this was a pub we'd all driven past many times on the Matlock road just outside Chesterfield, and it's rated by Camra, so we paid it a visit on a Tuesday evening. It looks like a 1930s roadhouse type pub, with interior to match - nice enough if a bit uninspiring. The service was helpful and we found a decent range of three or four beers - all that we sampled were very tasty. So no complaints there, but nothing really to set the pulse racing, either, in terms of that magical quality, atmosphere.



The Three Tuns, Eastwood

Arthur John Lawrence's favourite watering hole, apparently, which he doubtless used, in an attempt to get away from his embarrassingly literate and prodigious son. If he had visited today, he would have found stuff not to his liking - kids on pool tables and noisy toilets - and, surprisingly, only two real ales (he liked a pint, did Arthur). However, these were very well kept and offered good refreshment (although I forget what they were). In addition, there was a small cabal of ex-pitmen propping up one end of the bar, with whom he could have found common purpose and/or someone to fight.
The lady behind the bar was welcoming and able to come up with crisps, nuts and pork pies (though no mustard) and she did point out a list promising a wider range of beers, which are, apparently, sometimes available. All in all, a pub serving its local community well, as it probably has since Arthur's day.