Strange brews

ISN'T the British boozer marvellous? Where else might you bump into Boris Yeltsin, Ronald Reagan, George Bush senior or John Major - all of whom have taken a drink at the Bernard Arms in Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire?

Wherever you are in this great kingdom, you can always unwind in the nearest hostelry. You can sit in the tree trunk armchair at the Cobweb Inn, Cornwall; take out a book from the lending library in the Marine pub, Eastbourne; or watch a film at the Victoria Inn's own cinema in Swindon.

More active pub-goers can chance their foot in the world toe wrestling championships at the Royal Oak, Ashbourne; go dog sled racing at the Neuadd Arms in Wales; or take part in chicken racing, snail racing, black pudding throwing and bog snorkelling at pubs in Derbyshire, Kent, Lancashire and London respectively.

These eccentricities of the licensed trade feature in a new book, Strangest Pubs In Britain. Compiled by a team of agents all over the country, it was the brainchild of Mike Jones. He has been compiling pub guides for his local area in the West Midlands for years, and was always hearing odd snippets about even odder pubs.

"You've got the Good Beer Guide, guides to pub food and to family pubs. But no one had ever done a book about this before," he said. "When you write about the strangest things in the country, it does tickle people's fancy."

His favourite bizarre boozer is one on his doorstep in Stourbridge. Somerset House looks like a normal pub, but you can press your full pint against the wall and it will stay hanging there - for up to two days. Is it magic, ghosts, or a weird adhesive concocted from ancient wallpaper paste, tobacco smoke and grime? No one knows.

Mike's team have been busy here in Yorkshire. So we looked in at some of those strange pubs on our doorstep...

Grave discovery

Nothing too unusual about the Station Hotel, Pickering, as you draw up outside. Even after crossing the threshold you do not spot anything out of the ordinary.

Unless, that is, you are having a game of pool in the tap bar and happen to look up. For there, sticking down from the ceiling, is the lower portion of a gravestone.

According to landlord Steve Whitfield, the stone was discovered when the pub was being renovated. The only part of the inscription visible suggests that this piece of stonemasonry should really be at the head of the last resting place of a woman called Elizabeth.

Alternatively, the headstone might only be a first draft. "In the olden days, if somebody was carving a gravestone and messed it up, they turned it over and used it as a hearthstone," Steve explained.

He thinks this is what has happened here, and the errant mason used the stone in the fireplace for one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Nevertheless, legend has it that a restless Elizabeth still floats around the Station Hotel. Steve and his wife Mary have yet to see the apparition - they've only been in charge for a couple of months. But they have heard stories.

The couple are planning to renovate the pub later this month. But the gravestone will stay in situ.

Flaming heck

Not so far from the Station is the Saltersgate Inn, where you are guaranteed a warm welcome. Because the fire there has not gone out in 200 years.

The pub is in the middle of nowhere, above the Hole of Horcum. Today the strange shapes of RAF Fylingdales early warning station loom on the horizon, although few of the base workers visit anymore since it was placed on alert after September 11. The nearest village is more than four miles away.

When it was built in the 16th century, the Saltersgate was even more isolated, sited on the corner of a rutted track. It served those travelling from Pickering to Whitby, particularly the fishermen, says Roger Sellers, who owns the pub with wife Marie.

By the flickering light of the fire, he revealed the story of the everlasting flames. Salt was taxed in those days, but the fisherman couldn't afford to pay. So they would preserve their catch in salt in secret at the Saltersgate. The taxmen cottoned on, and would raid the pub quite often.

"The legend says that a customs and excise man was confronted. He was overpowered and killed.

"They decided to take out the fire, put his body there and relight it. They thought if the pub was searched, nobody would look in the fireplace.

"To enhance that, the landlord apparently started the legend that if the fire ever went out, the devil would appear and wreak havoc throughout the community."

Mr Sellers is sceptical. Research has shown that a taxman did disappear at about that time, but he reckons he might have been frightened off onto the boggy moors, and that was where he met his fate.

But he diligently ensures the fire burns in the day and smoulders through the night. It was easier when slow-burning peat was still allowed, he said. Now they use coal and wood.

He too is aware of a ghostly presence. Lights are mysteriously switched on and objects moved. But Roger and Marie would not trade in their strange pub for another. "There's not many like it," he said.

Time for a dip

It was first known as the Cooper. Then the Barrel Churn, then the Barrel, and in 1823 it became the Mail Coach.

Today it is named after a discovery which rewrote York history. When renovations uncovered a caldarium - a Roman steam bath - amid the pub's foundations, this pub got a new name: the Roman Bath.

Now run by Terry Osborne, the pub in St Sampson's Square, York, is a unique talking point. Later this year, Terry plans to make even more of it with new murals on the walls around the 2,000-year-old feature.

"I had a couple come in yesterday," he said. "They were Dutch. They said they had been here the year before and taken some photographs and a video, and said most of Holland had seen it."

The baths are decorated with insignia believed to be from the Roman army's 9th legion, which founded Eboracum in AD71.

When alone in the pub, Terry has heard ghostly footsteps. But that has only strengthened his affection for both bath and boozer. "It's a great feature, it's a great pub," he says.

Door to door

Our final call is at The Maltings, Tanners Moat, York, which is listed because the ceiling and bar are made of doors. Oddly, the book makes no mention of the unplumbed lavatory, a special seat near the window.

Shaun and Maxine Collinge didn't have a set idea about the decor when they took over ten years ago, but told the designers they wanted a look which would not need redecorating every few years. It worked. They have only had to replace the nicotine-stained curtains.

"It's a talking point for people. But I'd rather they talked about the quality of the beer," Shaun said. He's happy for the Maltings to be considered among the strangest pubs in Britain. "I think it's the characters who work here who are strange," he said. "I don't think it's got anything to do with the doors."

Strangest Pubs In Britain, published by Strangest Books price £6.99, is on sale at the Barbican Bookshop, Fossgate, York, York Brewery, Toft Green and many of the pubs mentioned.

Updated: 09:05 Saturday, February 15, 2003