The Grosvenor

The kind of pub which makes you jealous as you drive by on your way to somewhere that inevitably won't be as nice, especially if it's cold and all you're after is a warming pint of frothy ale. When you get inside it's like an old pair of slippers: tatty and worn, but oh-so-comfy, especially if you manage to bag one of the sofas at the back. If you live this end of town it's a great starting or finishing point to an evening, while a special mention has to go out to their Sunday roast. Never has gravy been so lovingly poured over perfectly roasted taters.

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