The Old Aberlady Inn – What a difference a pint makes
My opinion changed over the course of one bog standard IPA.
The East Lothian village of Aberlady is a beauty. A quaint, picture-perfect high street turns off to the stunning beach and nature reserve, stretching as far as the eye can see. Get to it on a sunny day, as I did this weekend, and you won’t want to leave.
Which makes it criminal that this place has just one pub currently open. There were two, but having been bought by private equity last year, The Ducks Inn appears to be undergoing renovation and is surrounded by metal fencing. That means drinkers can only visit The Old Aberlady Inn.
The first thing I think as I walk through the door is that the village deserves better.
I’ve walked the few miles from Longniddry, planning on camping further along the coast overnight. It’s hot, and I’m ready to put my backpack down and rest for as long as it takes to neck a cold pint in the sun. So the pub is a welcome respite. Its clean white exterior glistens in the evening sun.
Inside, it the first thing I think is “pubco”. It bears the hallmarks of being owned by a much larger company, managed from an office somewhere a hundred miles away: Generic pictures hung up at random, garish floral wallpaper covering any sort of history it once had, plastic foliage strewn up all over the place. A playlist of inoffensive crowd-pleasers you’ve heard a thousand times. (Though later, when I Google, I don’t find any evidence of it actually being owned by a pubco, which suggests its owners chose this decor without being forced to by any higher-ups.)
There’s no cask ale at the bar. I can deal with that – after all, it’s not a requirement, plus I’m in the mood for something cold and fizzy anyway. In the absence of much choice, I go with a perfectly serviceable hazy IPA from a brewery in Brighton. Lads, look a bit closer to home: You’ve got some of the country’s best craft beer practically on your doorstep.
I take my pint through to the courtyard in the back. The garden is a bit of a sun trap, with seven or eight tables and some flowerbeds around the perimeter. I pick a table under the shade of a tree and finally put my heavy bag down.
I weigh up the pros and cons as I sit. Pros: Great staff (that can make or break your pub experience), good beer garden, clean toilets. Plus, to be fair, it does market itself as more of a food pub and I didn’t sample anything off the menu.
But my biggest gripe is the pub only satisfies one of the three words in its name, the Old Aberlady Inn. Old: Its history has been stripped out in favour of faux velvet chairs in block colours and uninspired decoration. Aberlady: It feels as if this pub could be anywhere. I want a sense of place from a rural pub, somewhere that’s proud of its location. Inn: Tick. It has six rooms. No problems there.
Then, as I work through my pint, I start to contemplate.
This beer is pretty good. The staff are very polite, offering top ups and waters. The lady behind the bar was friendly, wasn’t she. They’ve done a good job on this garden, actually – that central pergola’s a good addition. I needed that rest – my back was killing me. It’s Friday! It’s sunny! Oh look, those flowers are nice. And listen: Over the George Ezra tune coming from inside, I can hear a cacophony of birdsong above my head. This beer is really hitting the spot, so refreshing. Weren’t those views spectacular as I walked along the coast? It’s perfect weather for camping this evening. Watching the sun go down across the Forth will be magical.
And in the space of one beer (and one water), I’m a changed man. The rest, the drink, the birdsong and the convivial conversation from the old boys on the next table have rubbed off on me. My mood has transformed. I’m ready to lug my rucksack a couple more hours and find a spot for the night.
Where is it?
Where next?
Until the other pub in the village reopens, you’ll have to travel a few miles to find another pub. Or, more realistically, take some cans down to the beach. You won’t regret it.
The chaser…
Yes, the camping spot was stunning, thanks for asking. No, I was in my tent before the Northern Lights came out and I missed the whole thing.
I was going to do a mini-review here of The Auld Hoose in North Berwick, which I visited the next day. But then I came across this Google review from a man named Kevin, and I couldn’t really put it any better: "Braw place. In the same vein as a footballers footballer, the Auld Hoose is a pubs pub. 🍻”
… and a wee bit of news
Last week, it was announced that pubs in England and Wales could stay open later if England or Scotland reached the semi-finals of Euro 2024 this summer.
But what of Scottish pubs? I asked Edinburgh council what the rules would be here, and this is what they told me: “It’s up to individual licensed premises to apply for a late licence and they are dealt with on a case by case basis. There’s no blanket policy as such. Each pub has to apply if they want to extend their licence.”
It remains to be seen how many pubs will apply for the late licence – and how many would get accepted.