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One of the last of the old pubs remaining in Chester, The Marlborough (I'm not even going to mention the tiresome folkloric anecdote about the Marlbororough spelling that appears on the pub sign - oh, damn, I just did) has become by default a cherished piece of the city's heritage. I can remember when this wasn't so, when this was just another duff old pub. But time marches on, St John Street has been transformed from a bleak side street to an epicentre of the city's night life and the Marlborough has every intention of keeping up with the game.
The latest renovation has taken a two-pronged approach. The floor space has been maximised to cater for the teeming hordes en route to Cruise, across the road, and the choice of drinks has been cranked up a notch accordingly.
Two large barrels provide glass-down support to vertical drinkers and some rickety little tables and chairs fill a corner near the door. Otherwise the bare wood and tile floor is free of impediments. The ceiling has been fitted with a full complement of halogen spotlights and the bar itself is a nice mashup of traditional and modern design elements. A small back yard has been made serviceable with a lick of paint and a few plants. The look is pleasing: a modern take on the traditional pub, with none of the excess and flash that comes with big corporate money.
There were two draft beers on offer, from the Oswestry-based Stonehouse Brewery, on our latest visit. This was the first time I had tasted the fruits of this relatively newly established microbrewery. I found the Station Bitter rather more how can I say bucolic than other local independents' offerings, but none the worse for that. I observed that the fridges also contained some quality product.
My beer was served in one of those dimpled glasses that I thought had last been seen twenty years ago. I should have asked what the thinking was behind this curious decision - I never saw any merit in dimpled glasses when they were in their heyday, and I certainly don't see any now. But at least I'll know to ask for a sleever next time.
It can be difficult for pubs like this to see the way forward. Some get stuck fast in a 1970's paralysis of carpets and oven chips while others give up the ghost completely. The Marlborough is doing a commendable job of adapting to survive without losing its character.
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