In My Liverpool Home Pt 2: It's Not the Leaving of Liverpool

In Liverpool all police stations with cells were known as bridewells. Hence the Liverpool One Bridewell in Campbell Square where Charles Dickens was made a special constable for a day in 1860 whilst researching a novel. It’s an interesting concept that failed under its original guise as Colin’s Bridewell. It’s vastly improved now under the ownership of the Liverpool One Brewery and stocks a good range of their beers.

The Grapes on Roscoe St in the Georgian Quarter mixes the old and the modern very well in a very small space. The bar is literally crowded with nine handpulls, but quality didn’t seem to be an issue. Nor was it in the Blackburne Arms or the Caledonian. Even better was to be had in one of my favourites; the Grade 11 listed Belvedere.

We were on the home stretch now, but felt obliged to call in at the historic Philharmonic. Everyone always goes on about the toilets here, but it’s the beer I’m interested in. Luckily since the Nicholsons group took it over, quality has improved and they have also given the place a good spring clean. One pint led to several as we were waylaid by a group of newly arrived German visitors.

Time really was pressing now and there were signs that some people may have had the odd drink or three. Still, what better way to refresh yourself than with some Windermere Pale in the Dispensary?

That really should have been it, but I have been reminded that we somehow found ourselves in the Ropewalks Beer Emporium drinking Jever. Apparently it is an ancient Liverpudlian law that if you see it on draught, you must drink it. And then somehow, with the blessing of the gods, we managed to get a train out of Dodge.

Another successful trawl of Liverpool boozers. Here’s to the next one.


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