Pub Watch: Dyffryn Arms (Pembrokeshire, Wales)

Back in February I read an article in the monthly CAMRA newsletter about a strange little pub somewhere in Wales run by an 80-year-old lady in what was pretty much the front room of her house. I had pretty much forgotten about it when traveling through Wales, but while fingering through the pages of my CAMRA Good Beer Guide I came upon a very familiar description of a "fascinating bar that resembles a 1920s front room where time has stood still". By happy coincidence, we had just organised to stay in a B&B only a few miles from where this pub should be and I was keen to pay the Dyffryn Arms a visit.

After a great dinner of Welsh Black Beef and armed with directions from our friendly B&B lady (a whole story in herself), we managed to steer ourselves through very rural Wales at about 9.30pm on a Wednesday night to (the very scenic) Gwaun Valley where the "pub" was supposedly located. If we hadn't been watching out closely for it we certainly would have driven straight past it. Just a non-descript blue house at the bottom of the valley with just a few other houses around it. All was pretty dark and I had resigned myself to just taking a photo of it from the outside. But then a dog started barking and as I was just about to jump back into the car, out opens a side door, an old lady sticks her head out, looks me up and down and abruptly says "I was wondering what that was all about". I realised that this must be the infamous proprietor - Bessie Davies according to the sign at the front of the pub - and sheepishly asked whether the pub was open. Just as abruptly she said yes and turned around and went back inside. Taking a few seconds to realise this meant we were suppose to follow, we locked the car and followed her inside. Into to a small corridor, she opened a side door and ushered us inside to what was the bar before leaving us and heading into another door on the other side - which we later worked out must be where she lives.

Now "interesting" and "fascinating" do not really describe the Dyffryn Arms. We had entered a small room that was no bigger than a bedroom, with a whole collection of different seating, one table and a small fire going in the fireplace. There were some funny old photos hanging on the wall and the whole place had this 'time stopped still' feel to it. Apart from the photo of Queen Elizabeth, looking considerably younger than she does now, there was also a photo of a Prince of Wales from 1896. However, the centrepiece of the room was the serving hatch with a sliding window and the mysteries that lay behind.









Needless to say, there was no one else around. Waiting a minute or so we could hear some movement on the other side of the hatch and then it slid open, the landlady stuck here head out and asked us what we would like. Behind the hatch was a small narrow room with some shelves directly behind with some random bottle of beers on it and a cask set up on the floor. She informed me that the cask beer was Bass and I ordered a pint and a half pint of that. She expertly decantered the beer straight from the cask into a jug, which she bought up to the counter and poured into our glasses. There weren't any price lists about, but it only cost me £3.10 all up for the finest pint of Bass I have ever had (not typically a great beer). I embarked on a few niceties and a few questions and must have sufficiently captured Bessie's interest as she decided to join us in the front room.

Looking pretty cold (especially with fingerless gloves on), Bessie moved a big old seat in front of the fire and proceeded to suffer a barrage of questions from me. She was actually reasonably talkative, especially considering she probably gets numerous visits from beer nerds like me asking exactly the same questions. But it certainly is an interesting story. The pub has actually been in her family's hands for its whole life - ever since the house was first built in the 1830s - and hasn't really changed since. You can nearly imagine those many years ago, when entertainment was much simpler, that bars like this were fairly common, people using parts of their houses to provide locals with somewhere to go and drink. Bessie herself had been running the pub for the last 56 years, she informed us, which is pretty incredible. And though it was quiet tonight, she said that in the weekend as much as 100 people can come to the pub and her granddaughter comes down to help her out (it sounded like her whole family lived in the area). Looking around, I was wondering where these 100 people went. Wednesday night is typically very quiet, but coincidently she had had another New Zealander in earlier that evening, a sheep shearer from a local farm (of which, apparently, there are quite a few NZers in Wales). I was also interested in why she stocked Bass as her cask beer - her reason being that it keeps very well for a cask beer (up to 6 or 7 days, which is obviously very important for a pub that is not going through a huge amount of beer) and is always consistent in its quality and taste. She clearly also has a keen knowledge of beer and cask cellaring.

I would have loved to ask her how long she expected to run the place and what would happen to it after her, but I thought that might be a bit on the nose. This pub really is one of a kind and I feel pretty lucky that I had the fortune to go there. We returned the next morning to take a photo of the Dyffryn Arms in the light of day and also the charming Gwaun Valley (you can just make it out on the left behind the trees). I guess it is unlikely I will have the opportunity to go there again (though I would gladly make a special trip up there for a good session on the Bass - Stuey, this place is for you), but I will never forget my pint with Bessie.