Bridge Inn, Topsham, Devon

The Bridge Inn in Topsham, Devon, is a pub which five generations of my family have been to. Throughout all that time, the pub has been owned by the same family - they are now on their fourth generation of licensee, with, we hope, the fifth and even sixth generations already waiting in the wings.

I occasionally meet people who just don't seem to get what all the fuss with old pubs is about. For me, this sense of continuity is a big part of it. It's hard to think of any parallels for other types of business which would have even existed continuously over those sorts of spans of time, let alone have remained largely the same. You don't get that with coffee shops, or trendy cocktail bars. It's extremely rare to have a hotel or a restaurant in this country more than, say, a hundred years old - and if they are of that age, it's even more unlikely that there has been any continuity of ownership. Moreover whenever the place has changed hands the new owners invariably want to "put their stamp on it".

It is a very special feeling to be in a pub, soaking up the atmosphere, the beautiful interior, and the good cheer brought by superb ale and hearty pub fare; and to know that I am sharing in a place and an experience my great grandfather would have known and loved, barely changed in essence to this day. The great grandfather of the current landlady would have known my great grandfather. It's even more heartwarming that my daughter has also been to this pub, to carry on this tradition.

My great grandfather, William, and my great grandmother Edith retired to Exmouth in the 1950s, having lived in Hampshire most of their lives. They had a long held affection for this part of Devon, my grandmother tells me they had their honeymoon in Dawlish. They married in the summer of 1918, in the closing stages of the First World War, and presumably their honeymoon was some time later that year. Edith's mother Elizabeth was born in Devon (albeit the opposite coast - Bideford) so perhaps they came to know the area through her. It is tempting to think there might even have been a sixth generation of my family who knew this pub.

While William and Edith were living in Exmouth in the 50s, William would now and again make the journey to nearby Topsham for a drink at the Bridge Inn. My Dad, as a child, would sometimes go to stay in Exmouth with his grandparents, and joined William for some of these jaunts.

It was therefore a delight and a privilege to be able to go with my daughter Erika to the Bridge Inn on her first visit to Devon when she was only 4 months old. Just as William had taken his grandchild (my father) there, so my Dad took his grandchild. Better still that my grandmother was also there, so we had four generations of my family all there at one time - and of course William and Edith were there in spirit.

That visit in January 2013 was possibly my first time to visit the Bridge Inn as well. Dad had only recently moved to Devon, and prior to that we would likely only have been in the area when I was child, when we'd go to Dawlish for bucket and spade holidays. Perhaps I too had been when I was very young, but I couldn't remember.

Since then though I'm happy to report I've been back at least twice. There seems to have been a bit of a gap - we had tried to go in May 2017, when I was passing through on my way back from Burgh Island, but got the timing wrong: it's one of those traditional pubs which closes between the lunchtime and evening sessions.

So we had another go in March 2018. I think this time Erika had fallen asleep in the car, so Chie kindly stayed there with her, and Dad and I popped in for a quick pint.

One of the curious, endearing, and actually quite traditional things about the Bridge Inn is that there isn't really much of a bar counter - you order through doorway, and beer is served directly from the barrel. 

Under normal circumstances, there are two min seating areas available.

First as you enter is the tap room. This allows children, so is typically where we've sat on our visits. A sign on the wall proclaims "This room is prohibited from all amusements on Sunday", and is signed by the first landlord in the family, W. J. Gibbings, whose tenancy dated back to 1897 - in the same decade my great grandfather was born. The decor in this room is, I suppose, fairly simple, but in a way, I imagine, is more authentic for that - as much as I love twee pub interiors, full of nik naks, it's a little hard to believe that would have been the norm traditionally.

Further along the corridor is a smaller room, which I think is called the snug, and similarly has a sort of hatchway through to the serving area, rather than a more typical modern bar. I think this space is intended for adults only, and seems usually to be the first part of the pub to fill up, so I've never actually managed to sit in here. 

This room does have a bit more of that sort of nik nak filled, cosy old pub feel to it - with more artefacts adorning the walls, things hanging from the beams, a comforting reduction in the amount of natural light, and the sort of yellow stained walls and ceilings one likes to assume are the product of many decades of tobacco smoke.

However, it doesn't end there - there are in fact two further seating areas which are not typically available. First, the "parlour", which also doubles as the serving area, and, as a sign on the door says, is primarily a private sitting area for the family who own the pub. However part of the folklore of the pub is that very loyal regulars might on occasion be invited to sit in there. Dad believes my great grandfather would probably have been extended this privilege.

On our most recent visit we discovered there is in fact a fourth seating area - The Malt Room. As the name suggests, this was once used for malting barley - and presumably therefore at some point in history beer was brewed on the premises...? This isn't always open, however, typically being saved for private functions, and occasionally for music events. However, as our last visit happened to be Christmas Eve, and the pub was busier than usual, they opened it up. It's a very different space with another very different atmosphere - there's sort of a hint of a medieval banqueting hall about it.

There was a lovely ambience when we came in here, with the Christmas tree in the corner, the hubbub of cheery family gatherings, and for me the sense of delight at being in such a special place, with such a long family connection, whilst also surrounded by family, at a time of year when such things are very much at the forefront of people's minds.

This space actually had something which looked a bit like a bar at one end, but of course, being the Bridge Inn, why use a bar to serve drinks when a corridor would suffice? Maybe it is slightly irrational, but standing in this wonderfully damp, atmospheric, cellar like corridor to order drinks was so much more gratifying than waiting at a conventional bar. Plus, again, this means beer served directly from the barrel - not unnecessarily perturbed by a roller coaster ride through a hand pump - just allowed to gently pour fourth into your glass by gravity.

I suppose this, plus the atmosphere (by which I mean the physical air, as much as the sense of the place), and the not inconsequential fact that the family has been serving ale for four generations, means that every pint I've ever had in the Bridge Inn has been nothing short of exemplary.

As you've probably gathered from the reams of family history above, I have a very special affection for this pub. That said, I don't think you need to have five generations of family history here to fall in love with this place. It's a beautiful and rare insight into how pubs used to be, and I'm sure anyone who has an interest in old pubs would be instantly smitten with the Bridge Inn.