You don’t just walk into the Royal Standard; you tumble into history. The ceilings are so low you’ll bonk your head if you’re over six feet tall—ask me how I know. The floors are crooked, the beams are black with centuries of woodsmoke, and there are tiny, little nooks everywhere.
It’s like a hobbit hole designed by a drunk architect with a love for flagstones. And the fireplaces? Massive. They’re big enough to roast a whole pig, or maybe a couple of misbehaving barons.
You can almost hear the whispers of highwaymen, smugglers, and maybe a few ghost monks. Is it haunted? Probably. It’s too old not to be, right?
The Ghosts Are Probably Fussy About the Ale
Speaking of spirits, let’s talk about the drinks. The Royal Standard serves proper, real ale. We’re not talking about fizzy, yellow lager here. We’re talking about beer that tastes like it was brewed by a wizard in a cauldron.
They have guest ales that change faster than the British weather. You’ll find something called “Old Thumper” or “Bishops Finger”—names that sound like threats, but taste like heaven. And the cider? Dangerously good.
Historic bars, inns and taverns around the world | lovemoney.com
If you’re not careful, you’ll have three pints and suddenly feel the urge to challenge someone to a duel. Or a game of darts. Same thing, really.
