15-07-2025
Is this the UK's quaintest pub? Never mind Prosecco, they don't even serve lager in ‘legendary' inn untouched by time
I FOUND what seems to be the UK's quaintest old school pub almost by accident - but don't expect to be able to order any champagne.
The Dyffryn Arms is certainly not the easiest pub to find, but is well worth the effort.
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It's not in the middle of nowhere so much as on the far edge of nowhere, down any number of narrow winding rural lanes in farming country called the Gwaun Valley, inland from Fishguard at the west end of Pembrokeshire in Wales.
Originally built as a house in 1845, it was converted into its current pub-of-sorts format sometime in the V ictorian period and has remained little changed ever since: one room for the drinkers, the others for the family that owns it.
And it's been run by the same family for over a century.
Our sat nav initially took us to a random spot surrounded by fields with no buildings in sight.
Then, after we'd finally worked out that we were actually a mile or so from where we should be, we found ourselves driving the rest of the route at walking pace - or rather at the walking pace of the herd of dairy cows that were being led very slowly down the narrow country road ahead of us.
When we finally got to the pub, it didn't look like a pub at all, an impression reinforced by the appearance of the barman.
He looked at least 85-years-old and appeared to have fallen asleep in an armchair while watching daytime TV very loudly in his front room.
When he finally stirred and noticed that he had customers, he directed us to the small public area of the pub while disappearing behind a hatch to serve us.
There was no conventional bar as such, just that hole in the wall separating us from him.
The choices were Bass ale poured from a barrel and served from a jug - or two or three room temperature other dusty bottled drinks of unpromising appearance.
Never mind drinks like a glass of Prosecco, the pub didn't even have lager.
The snacks also had a retro quality: I noticed a Curly Wurly that was on sale, so leave your ideas of being able to order your Kettle crisps here.
And the public area was decidedly unlike a conventional modern boozer.
There was no banquette seating or any other concessions to comfort, just austere straight-backed wooden chairs and benches that looked like they might have done several decades of previous service as church pews.
There was minimal decoration save a few vintage pictures including one of the late queen - and the paintwork looked as though it hadn't been redecorated since she came to the throne in 1952.
My wife, demonstrating an extraordinary degree of optimism, actually inquired 'what wines' they kept, as if there might be an extensive list.
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The question was met with a rather blank stare, with a slight bit of side eye thrown in.
She eventually asked for a cider, along with my beer - and of course had the option of only paying with cash.
There were no screens (except that TV you could still hear booming from the private front room next door), no music, no phone signal and no wifi.
Yet to some, having no distractions of any kind would be a welcome respite from the bustling pubs found elsewhere.
And the only customers were us, being so quiet I wondered if we might be the only customers that week.
This place might not be for everyone but for me it was a long cherished ambition to get here and it didn't disappoint.
Because, in some beardie real ale circles, the Dyffryn is a legendary pub, a holy grail for the serious pub enthusiast or social historian.
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CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale) describes its interior as 'of outstanding national historic importance' while National Geographic called the pub a 'time warp tavern'.
But you will just have to remember to commit to finding it, as it isn't one you will easily wander past.
The previous manager, one Bessie Davies, had operated the pub's hatch for 72 years by the time she passed away aged 93 in 2023.
In tribute her family have done absolutely nothing: keeping it as Bessie kept it and her fans like it.
At one point a lot of country pubs would have been like this.
In Thomas Hardy's famous Victorian novel Tess of the D'Urbervilles, his village has a pub like this where overspilling punters will often end up drinking in the landlady's bedroom, perched on her bed or chest of drawers while supping ale.
The Dyffryn is the closest I've ever come to seeing such a phenomenon in real modern life.
I would feel guilty publicising The Dyffryn's extraordinary charm in case this were to see it overrun, but in reality most people reading this will never get there, and the few that do make the effort deserve the treat that awaits them.
I just hope that when their time comes Bessie's grandchildren are as respectful of the past as to leave this winning formula alone.
That's an ambition worth drinking to.
There is also a small English pub that overlooks one of the UK's best secret beaches.
Plus, the best pubs in the UK have been revealed.
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