Eureka! Good beer brings in the punters

Paul Riley, Chairman of West Lancs Camra presents the Tony Buller Shield for the Lancashire Pub of the Year to Mike and Janice of the Derby Arms

On a tour of some of Ormskirk and Aughton’s best pubs — organised by the Campaign for Real Ale — I found packed bars, good beer and lots to cheer about.

First up was the Eureka in Ormskirk, an alehouse given a loving makeover by  Simon Taylor and his wife Louise. A clean and modern pub, the Eureka looks a good place for dining with children.

To deal with the invasion of Camra members, one barmaid pulled pints while the other took money – quick-thinking efficiency not always seen behind the bar.

I tried a half of the Timothy Taylor Landlord (OK) and a Black Sheep (better than usual). They also had on guest ales from the Okells brewery of Isle of Man and old favourites like Tetley cask.

There was more Tetley at the next stop, a jam-packed Royal Oak in Aughton where I enjoyed banter with barmaids and laughed off a pint that my drinking companion carelessly let slip through his fingers and onto my trousers.

After that we moved onto the Stanley Arms where there was Landlord at its best, a nostalgic boy-girl music act and lots of mingling with the attractive locals.

A few niggles started between members of our coach party so the excellent organiser of the evening, Doug Macadam, whisked us off to our final destination, the Derby Arms.

The Derby has just been voted West Lancashire and West Pennines Lancashire Pub of the Year by Camra members. It is easy to see why the pub is winning plaudits. There’s an experienced, enthusiastic team at the helm — including licensees Mike Litherland and Janice Brogden — a great bunch of locals, good beer and, if the free buffet we were provided with is anything to go by, smashing food.

The Tetley Mild (lovely and malty) was first class. Southport Brewery’s Hole in One also hit the spot. The bonhomie of the Derby Arms had quashed the needling of before but, as we boarded the coach home, it started up again, as two gentlemen traded obscure insults about arcane real ale matters.

It was only left to your faithful blogger to disgrace himself by falling asleep in his coach seat only to wake up just outside Ainsdale and shout loudly that he had been “feckin shanghaied”.