I think I’ve found England’s best pub

In an attempt to secure the future of the British boozer, Will Gore introduces his children to the joys of an inn holiday

The Queen’s Arms, situated in one of North Yorkshire’s prettiest dales, was a hit with the kids (Will Gore)

In the first two decades of this century, almost a quarter of pubs in the UK went to the wall. The availability of cheap (and decent) alcohol in supermarkets provides a partial explanation, as does the explosion of alternative leisure pursuits and changing family dynamics. It’s also fair to say there were once a lot of pretty ropey pubs, some of which are little missed. But small independents have struggled to compete against the big corporates: a pub might be decent, but scale talks. And coronavirus hasn’t helped.

Perverse though it may be, I take this decline personally: not because I spend all my time in pubs, but because if ever I have more (or any) spare hours in my life, I don’t want to find that my local has been turned into flats or a nail bar. I probably also cling to some romantic ideal of England: a village green, church on one side, pub on the other and a cricket match – or burning wicker man – in the middle.

One way or another, I realise that a lot of my formative experiences have involved pubs. Family walking holidays invariably meant pub lunches, which seemed like such an extraordinary treat – even when the food was barely adequate. I had my first snog in a Cambridge boozer; and on the same night had my first experience of public vomiting. Friendships have been made firm over drawn-out pints; sorrows have been drowned.

And even better than having a drink or a meal in a pub, I love staying overnight at an inn. Quite aside from the fact that this can turn a cheeky half into a cheeky half-term holiday, there is something decidedly wonderful about knowing that when everyone else leaves the bar at closing time, you only need to pop upstairs to bed.

To do my bit to halt the fall in pub numbers, I am gradually introducing my children to the joys of a licensed premises. A walk in the woods will end with crisps and blackcurrant squash in the garden of the Full Moon or the Rising Sun; while a long car journey might be broken for a burger or a ploughman’s at whichever convenient establishment Google can recommend.

Last weekend, for the first time, I took them to a pub for a mini-break – and it was glorious. The Queen’s Arms in Litton is stunningly situated in one of North Yorkshire’s prettiest and least-busy dales. But even putting location to one side, it is just a perfect pub: cosy, comfortable and welcoming, with excellent beer from its own micro-brewery and award-winning pies on the menu – and without pretension or fanciness.

On arrival, the children marvelled at the complimentary biscuits in our family room. A little later in the evening, I threw open the window and heard the hoot of a tawny owl competing with the querulous wibble of the curlews.

At breakfast in the snug bar, we were warmed by an open fire and by the smiles of the landlady, while the landlord fried bacon and eggs to perfection in the next-door kitchen. The children squabbled only about who had first dibs on sitting next to the fire, then ate mountains of toast and cooed over an elderly Highland terrier who slept contentedly by the hearth. My wife and I drank many cups of tea and, like the pooch, didn’t want to leave.

I almost ruined our holiday by underestimating the challenges posed by a walk over the fell into neighbouring Wharfedale and back. My daughter wept at the injustice of life and my wife nursed a nasty blister. But our weariness only made the evening return to our pub base all the sweeter.

The present cost of living crisis will increase financial pressure on all sorts of businesses, and pubs are bound to feel a further pinch. Which is why I’ll be seeking out every opportunity to support as many of them as I can.