Pub 80, Day 30 – The Plough

By Andy

The pubs in Bradfield were having a Bonfire Night pissing contest.

From its position high up on the hill, The Old Horns Inn had clearly put on a far superior fireworks display. But fireworks last mere minutes – the bonfire itself is the headline act. It was therefore no coincidence that The Plough's bonfire had been mischievously positioned so it could be seen from The Old Horns Inn, and as The Horn's own fire began to smoulder, we were drawn to the inferno down the road.

Upon arrival, it was immediately apparent that The Plough's owners were flouting the Equality Act: you have to be a supermodel to work there.

The Plough's employees on a staff night out

Chiselled men poured pints while their triceps tumbled from incredibly tight shirts; petite waitresses shuttled food to tables, their powerful strides reminiscent of a Paris catwalk. It appears The Plough operates the same recruitment policy as Sky Sports News: the punters need something to look at. Presumably, as soon as any member of staff turns 30, they are immediately relocated to the kitchens, never to be seen by customers again.

We ordered two pints of Belgian Blue from a barmaid with an impossibly symmetrical face. We chose Belgian Blue because:

a) as a Christmas beer, we didn't think we'd encounter it very often,

and;

b) we bloody love it

This later turned out to be a mistake with regards to the first point, as Belgian Blue takes over in December: it is available in every pub in the region, and is as integral to a Sheffield Christmas as taxi drivers asking for extortionate tips. However, with regards to the second point it was not a mistake: we still bloody love it.

The Plough is a classic country pub of the sort that Britain produces so well: large rooms and homely fireplaces, ample beers and hearty food. Low stone archways remind you that the building has stood for hundreds of years, yet widescreen TVs reassure you it has all the modern comforts required.

Despite only coming to watch the fire, we soon decided that there was no point standing near something warm when you could stay inside instead. Unfortunately, the local wildlife had reached the same conclusion: as soon as we sat down, a spider the size of an octopus scuttled across our table.

Now let me make one thing clear: I am not afraid of spiders. However, this was the sort of spider I couldn't take my eyes off. I contributed little to the conversation as I mapped its route: further away, further away, closer, closer, why's it coming closer? It's OK guys it's going again. Wait it's coming back!

As my decidedly non-scared observations climbed to a gradually higher pitch, Rob spoke up:

“If you're just gonna sit there squealing, I'm gonna kill it,” he announced, presumably to his sisters.

Now let me make a second thing clear: I am definitely not afraid of spiders. Indeed, I would have offered to kill it myself, but Rob was ever-so-slightly closer. Gallantly, he removed his shoe and hobbled into battle.

The spider put up a good fight, but it was no match for Rob's shoe. The Plough's patrons, gentler folk than us, gave Rob a lukewarm reception befitting a victorious bullfighter: everyone was glad that the human had won, but did there need to be so much bloodshed?

The whole episode served as a reminder that we were no longer in the city centre: Pubquest had reached the countryside.

Pub: The Plough (New Road, S6 6HW)

Rating: 9/10

Beer: Belgian Blue

Brewery: Bradfield Brewery (Sheffield)

NEXT UP: Middle class chain pubs, at the Admiral Rodney...