Turks Head, Alcesterback to pub details please note - reviews on this site are purely the opinion of site visitors, so don't take them too seriously.
The only Alcester entry in the 2018 Good Beer Guide.... not going to argue, my TT Landlord was in perfect condition.
Small front bar and very busy on a Friday night. Space can be found down a nicely decorated corridor.
Worth seeking out.
Visit blogged at http://bit.ly/2uL3Up2
|
Finally managed to revisit yesterday after threatening to do so over 4 years ago. If anything, this pub has improved since our last visit. Whilst the front bar is still pretty much given over to locals (and there's nothing wrong with that), there's a smallish recently-refurbished dining room at the back where they serve a terrific Sunday lunch. And the TT Landlord and Salopian Oracle were excellent too (didn't try the Wye Valley HPA or the Skinner's Betty Stogs). Wasn't too sure about the Día de Muertos decorations but they had obviously had a good party the previous night!
|
Good food, good beers and decent ambience.
Muzzy - 12 Apr 2015 14:00 |
Reasonable enough kind of place albeit slighlty food orientated (though not in a 'think's it's a restaurant kind of way). Decent enough beer and it's on the High Street.
anonymous - 26 Feb 2013 16:36 |
"the bland leading the bland"
they say, whoever 'they' are, that life begins at forty. personally i've never heard anyone say that, which is a good thing as i'd avocate an instant on-the-spot maiming for anyone that ever did. but even so, i find myself peering down the through last dreggs of my pint towards my own imminent rebirth, one which suggests the next forty years will be a lot less pleasant than the first. and the beer's not bad to fair. its not great either. i mean, it wont have the doyens of camra giving a lickety splat over the cellarmanship anytime soon, but it'll do. but thats just it, as a metaphor for life goes; "it'll do" just isn't good enough. this, i soberly reflect as the turk's youthfull patron's, a frisson of stylish excess and extravagence, or an even shitter than usual episode of hollyoaks (how ever you choose to call it) parade on by without so much as a glance askance in my direction. i may as well not be here, infact, why am i here? referring to the pub's own blurb i discover that i'm drinking in a "privately owned freehouse over-flowing with character". well, if by 'character' they mean (and clearly they don't, but a link's a link, hey...) the lasses infront of me who, judgeing from their own vapid expressions, evidently did well to remember to tie the laces of their lily-allen-esque, oversized, bright white trainers, but then did somewhat less well to accompany that with any meaningful item of clothing elsewhere at all. i mean, don't get me wrong, at my age i'll take what i can get, and if thats a pair of pert young backsides protuding from shimmering lycra half a yard in front of me, then so be it. or maybe its their accompanying boyfriend's - wannabe london hipsters to a man - a T4 travesty dressed ludicrously as far as i can see in low crotched pants with elasticated ankles, there presumeably to catch the shit when it inevitabley gets kicked out of them should they so much as cast a sideways glance at the hardcases outside the swan further up the road. maybe its just me, maybe i'm too old, perhaps i'm not meant to understand the banalities of a youth i so clearly envy - but if by dressing differently you all look the same then surely that amounts to little more than the bland leading the bland down this years latest high street, H&M, fashion dead end.
But anyway, all this aside, time's ticking on - last orders at the bar of life (or any other grinding last chance saloon metaphor you care to mention) - you staying for another mate? nah, its way past my bedtime...oh bollocks to it, one for the road, here's to the next forty and all that shite.
for: alcester's third, or maybe even second best pub on the high street
against: if i haven't already meantioned alcester's oh so 'street' wannabe london hipster's, then i have now
|
"the bland leading the bland"
they say, whoever 'they' are, that life begins at forty. personally i've never heard anyone say that, which is a good thing as i'd avocate an instant on-the-spot maiming for anyone that ever did. but even so, i find myself peering down the through last dreggs of my pint towards my own imminent rebirth, one which suggests the next forty years will be a lot less pleasant than the first. and the beer's not bad to fair. its not great either. i mean, it wont have the doyens of camra giving a lickety splat over the cellarmanship anytime soon, but it'll do. but thats just it, as a metaphor for life goes; "it'll do" just isn't good enough. this, i soberly reflect as the turk's youthfull patron's, a frisson of stylish excess and extravagence, or an even shitter than usual episode of hollyoaks (how ever you choose to call it) parade on by without so much as a glance askance in my direction. i may as well not be here, infact, why am i here? referring to the pub's own blurb i discover that i'm drinking in a "privately owned freehouse over-flowing with character". well, if by 'character' they mean (and clearly they don't, but a link's a link, hey...) the lasses infront of me who, judgeing from their own vapid expressions, evidently did well to remember to tie the laces of their lily-allen-esque, oversized, bright white trainers, but then did somewhat less well to accompany that with any meaningful item of clothing elsewhere at all. i mean, don't get me wrong, at my age i'll take what i can get, and if thats a pair of pert young backsides protuding from shimmering lycra half a yard in front of me, then so be it. or maybe its their accompanying boyfriend's - wannabe london hipsters to a man - a T4 travesty dressed ludicrously as far as i can see in low crotched pants with elasticated ankles, there presumeably to catch the shit when it inevitabley gets kicked out of them should they so much as cast a sideways glance at the smokers outside the swan further up the road. maybe its just me, maybe i'm too old, perhaps i'm not meant to understand the banalities of a youth i so clearly envy - but if by dressing differently you all look the same then surely that amounts to little more than the bland leading the bland down this years latest high street, H&M, fashion dead end.
But anyway, all this aside, time's ticking on - last orders at the bar of life (or any other grinding last chance saloon metaphor you care to mention) - you staying for another mate? nah, its way past my bedtime...oh bollocks to it, one for the road, here's to the next forty and all that shite.
for: alcester's third, or maybe even second best pub on the high street
against: if i haven't already meantioned alcester's oh so 'street' wannabe london hipster's, then i have now
|
"the bland leading the bland"
they say, whoever 'they' are, that life begins at forty. personally i've never heard anyone say that, which is a good thing as i'd avocate an instant on-the-spot maiming for anyone that ever did. but even so, i find myself peering down the through last dreggs of my pint towards my own imminent rebirth, one which suggests the next forty years will be a lot less pleasant than the first. and the beer's not bad to fair. its not great either. i mean, it wont have the doyens of camra giving a lickety splat over the cellarmanship anytime soon, but it'll do. but thats just it, as a metaphor for life goes; "it'll do" just isn't good enough. this, i soberly reflect as the turk's youthfull patron's, a frisson of stylish excess and extravagence, or an even shitter than usual episode of hollyoaks (how ever your choose to call it) parade on by without so much as a glance askance in my direction. i may as well not be here, infact, why am i here? referring to the pub's own blurb i discover that i'm drinking in a "privately owned freehouse over-flowing with character". well, if by 'character' they mean (and clearly they don't, but a link's a link, hey...) the lasses infront of me who, judgeing from their own vapid expressions, evidently did well to remember to tie the laces of their lily-allen-esque, oversized, bright white trainers, but then did somewhat less well to accompany that with any meaningful item clothing elsewhere at all. i mean, don't get me wrong, at my age i'll take what i can get, and if thats a pair of pert young backsides protuding from shimmering lycra half a yard in front of me, then so be it. or maybe its their accompanying boyfriend's - wannabe london hipsters to a man - a T4 travesty dressed ludicrously as far as i can see in low crotched pants with elasticated ankles, there presumeably to catch the shit when it inevitabley gets kicked out of them should they so much as cast a sideways glance at the smokers outside the swan further up the road. maybe its just me, maybe i'm too old, perhaps i'm not meant to understand the banalities of a youth i so clearly envy - but if by dressing differently you all look the same then surely that amounts to little more than the bland leading the bland down this years latest high street, H&M, fashion dead end.
But anyway, all this aside, time's ticking on - last orders at the bar of life (or any other grinding last chance saloon metaphor you care to mention) - you staying for another mate? nah, its way past my bedtime...oh bollocks to it, one for the road, here's to the next forty and all that shite.
for: alcester's third, or maybe even second best pub on the high street
against: if i haven't already meantioned alcester's oh so 'street' wannabe london hipster's, then i have now
|
"the bland leading the bland"
they say, whoever 'they' are, that life begins at forty. personally i've never heard anyone say that, which is a good thing as i'd avocate an instant on-the-spot maiming for anyone that ever did. but even so, i find myself peering down the through last dreggs of my pint towards my own imminent rebirth, one which which suggests the next forty years will be a lot less pleasant than the first. and the beer's not bad to fair. its not great either. i mean, it wont have the doyens of camra giving a lickety splat over the cellarmanship anytime soon, but it'll do. but thats just it, as a metaphor for life goes; "it'll do" just isn't good enough. this, i soberly reflect as the turk's youthfull patron's, a frisson of stylish excess and extravagence, or an even shitter than usual episode of hollyoaks (how ever your choose to call it) parade on by without so much as a glance askance in my direction. i may as well not be here, infact, why am i here? referring to the pub's own blurb i discover that i'm drinking in a "privately owned freehouse over-flowing with character". well, if by 'character' they mean (and clearly they don't, but a link's a link, hey...) the lasses infront of me who, judgeing from their own vapid expressions, evidently did well to remember to tie the laces of their lily-allen-esque, oversized, bright white trainers, but then did somewhat less well to accompany that with any meaningful item clothing elsewhere at all. i mean, don't get me wrong, at my age i'll take what i can get, and if thats a pair of pert young backsides protuding from shimmering lycra half a yard in front of me, then so be it. or maybe its their accompanying boyfriend's - wannabe london hipsters to a man - a T4 travesty dressed ludicrously as far as i can see in low crotched pants with elasticated ankles, there presumeably to catch the shit when it inevitabley gets kicked out of them should they so much as cast a sideways glance at the smokers outside the swan further up the road. maybe its just me, maybe i'm too old, perhaps i'm not meant to understand the banalities of a youth i so clearly envy - but if by dressing differently you all look the same then surely that amounts to little more than the bland leading the bland down this years latest high street, H&M, fashion dead end.
But anyway, all this aside, time's ticking on - last orders at the bar of life (or any other grinding last chance saloon metaphor you care to mention) - you staying for another mate? nah, its way past my bedtime...oh bollocks to it, one for the road, here's to the next forty and all that shite.
for: alcester's third, or maybe even second best pub on the high street
against: if i haven't already meantioned alcester's oh so 'street' wannabe london hipster's, then i have now
|
"the bland leading the bland"
they say, whoever 'they' are, that life begins at 40. personally i've never heard anyone say that, which is a good thing as i'd avocate an instant on-the-spot maiming for anyone that ever did. but even so, i find myself peering down the through last dreggs of my pint towards my own imminent rebirth, one which which suggests the next 40 will be a lot less pleasant than the first. and the beer's not bad to fair. its not great either. i mean, it wont have the doyens of camra giving a lickety splat over the cellarmanship anytime soon, but it'll do. but thats just it, as a metaphor for life goes; "it'll do" just isn't good enough. this, i soberly reflect as the turk's youthfull patron's, a frisson of stylish excess and extravagence, or an even shitter than usual episode of hollyoaks (how ever your choose to call it) parade on by without so much as a glance askance in my direction. i may as well not be here, infact, why am i here? referring to the pub's own blurb i discover that i'm drinking in a "privately owned freehouse over-flowing with character". well, if by 'character' they mean (and clearly they don't, but a link's a link, hey...) the lasses infront of me who, judgeing from their own vapid expressions, evidently did well to remember to tie the laces of their lily-allen-esque, oversized, bright white trainers, but then did somewhat less well to accompany that without any meaningful item clothing elsewhere at all. i mean, don't get me wrong, at my age i'll take what i can get, and if thats a pair of pert young backsides protuding from shimmering lycra half a yard in front of me, then so be it. or maybe its their accompanying boyfriend's - wannabe london hipsters to a man - a T4 travesty dressed ludicrously as far as i can see in low crotched pants with elasticated ankles, there presumeably to catch the shit when it inevitabley gets kicked out of them should they so much as cast a sideways glance at the door of the swan further up the road. maybe its just me, maybe i'm too old, perhaps i'm not meant to understand the banalities of a youth i so clearly envy - but if by dressing differently you all look the same then surely that amounts to little more than the bland leading the bland down this years latest high street, H&M fashion dead end.
But anyway, all this aside, time's ticking on - last orders at the bar of life (or any other grinding last chance saloon metaphor you care to mention) - you staying for another mate? nah, its way past my bedtime mate...oh bollocks to it, one for the road, here's to the next forty and all that shite.
for: alcester's third, or maybe even second best pub on the high street
against: i may have mentioned alcester's oh so 'street' wannabe london hipster's
|
Looks like you are spoilt for pub choice in alcester..... All looked ok on high street. We chose this one because of the promise of a nice garden. To get to it meant a walk through the pub, which had an interesting interior. Good service and quite full. Need to come back and do the others in town!
|
Quite busy on Tuesday 03/07/2012 with a mostly young crowd. Has a more cosy and comfortable feel than the Three Tuns which may account for it being busier. The Three tuns has the better real ale offering although what was on offer was good and well kept.
Flagged floor and big leather sofas by a fireplace on the left as you enter in front of the bar make for a comfy feel but take up quite a lot of room and make the bar a bit congested, might be better with round tables and chairs in this area.
Midway between the Three Tuns and the Holly Bush in lots of ways. The town does have a variety of pubs for a variety of clientel, these three seem to suit me.
|
Some nice stone floors, old fireplaces and exposed timber framing inside this 17th century building. Furnishings have improved since RogerB visited in 2006 but the music choice had not, even though most of the visitors looked retired. Busy on a Saturday lunchtime but it was the town's food festival. Bewdley Brewery's Worcestershire Way, Hooky and Wye Valley HPA available as well as several foreign beers. Would re-visit.
|
Came back here after my previous visit on my stag do (see November 2009 entry), this time it was my new wife plus my 5 week old son. Got a cosy sofa in front of the fire and had a really tasty meal. Thoroughly recommend this place, although I concur with a previous review that it is a mixed bag of old building and newish interior.
Recommended.
|
Modern interior but the front area is small enough to be cosy. Erdinger on tap in tall glasses and three real ales means most beer lovers will be happy.
|
The Turks head has a younger feel to it these days, with young barmaids and a cleared out interior. The pub was quite quiet when we were there, whilst The Holly Bush and The Three Tuns were busy which probably shows where the locals prefer. The beer was in excellent condition, no doubt about that, but the pub seems to lack a little charm.
|
I found the Turks Head a bit of a mixed bag. Better than most of the other pubs in the vicinity but some way behind the Holly Bush and Three Tuns. There is no doubting that the building is very old and there appears to have been attempts to give it a more modern feel without ruining the traditional feel of the building, something the Bear a few doors down has not managed to do. The building did have a spell as an Antiques Shop until reverting back to being a pub in 1999. The main bar area is a bit cramped when busy as people tend to hang around here despite there being plenty of seating away from the bar. 2 Real Ales (Archers Autumn Mist & Hereford Pale Ale when I was there). There are still plenty of old exposed wooden beams, bare floors and brick fireplaces and the furnishings are quite basic but the music was disappointingly modern and clubby albeit not loud enough to ruin conversation. A corridor leads to the not particularly pleasant toilets and a rear non smoking dining area (apparently known as the Mirror Room). The tacky Vegas style lights are a bit out of place. I didn�t notice a TV although I did not really get a chance to have a decent look around. The food is more restaurant style than pub grub with main courses around �7-9. Certainly one of the better pubs in town and worth a visit but with the Holly Bush and Three Tuns 100 yards away, I know where my preferences lie.
|
Called in for a bite to eat and there was a smoke free room available for diners. Enjoyed an excellent Archers beer with my dinner.
|
Had a swift drink in here at Sunday lunchtime. Small, cosy little pub that was nicely busy. The beer (Hereford Pale Ale) was fantastic and the menu (not sampled) looked well worth a try.
|
Very friendly pub with a new quiz evening every other Monday night starts at 2030hrs. Next quiz is on the 23rd October 2006 all are welcome
|
Friendly, great atmosphere, great food, good prices.
anonymous - 27 Feb 2006 00:56 |
|
