Pub of the week: The Little Grosvenor

It’s hard to describe the experience at The Little Grosvenor without telling the story of the far-right wake.

“It’s the best pub in Bristol,” my new friend insists. His Staffordshire Bull Terrier comes to say hello then scampers off. The dog winds through legs to the other side of this intimate pub which takes the ‘Little’ in its name rather literally.

A new man joins the conversation, bumping into three people and a pint just to turn around. “It’s full of characters,” he says.

Locals drink here several times a week. Everyone appears to know each other, if not by name then by sight. It also appears to be a local bylaw that at least one mobility scooter must be parked outside at all times.

As a newcomer I’m immediately introduced to a mass of people, and have barely taken a sip of my drink before it’s insisted that I come back, and bring my friends here too. The regulars say that the pub draws people in from all the corners of Bristol, which would explain why it’s so packed soon after midday.

I head out into the small, stone-walled garden. Again, it’s packed. Most people smoke, others stand around nursing a pint. One man has intricate facial tattoos and piercings all over. Another has trousers so ripped I can see more skin than jean. Inside, the man calls for his lost dog.

Looking around the garden, the tattoos aren’t an anomaly. When one man moves inside to avoid his photo being taken with a group taking up one half of the garden, he seems a little agitated, saying he doesn’t want to be associated with them. It takes a moment for him to explain.

It transpires that on this quiet Friday afternoon in this little local pub, I’ve accidentally barged into a meeting of the English Defence League.

The men are here for a funeral and are preparing to go on a march later in memory of their friend who recently died in prison.

It feels poignant that there iss a far-right meeting on the day of Donald Trump’s inauguration, but a bunch of the locals I talk to are quick to distance themselves from the new president’s politics.

“It scares me, now he’s in charge,” says a man who looks like he could make Trump fall over just by tapping him on the shoulder.

Most of the people inside the pub ignore what’s going on outside, and more drinks are called for as the far-right group wander off.

I’m invited along to the wake. However fascinating it might be, I feel a little less welcome when someone says: “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

In the chaos of the pub, little attention is paid to what they serve or what’s decorating the walls – other than a Stoney Garnett for mayor sticker still in one window – but I can guarantee that the cider is good and the atmosphere unique.

In among the madness of this boozy afternoon, The Little Grosvenor feels incredibly welcoming. The EDL gathering causes no trouble in the pub, and the rest of the locals carry on as usual.

The Staffie bumps into my legs again before I go. Smaller dogs are said to sometimes run along the bar here, and the dogs get along with each other just as well as their owners do.

One man scrolls through the songs on the digital jukebox. “Best pub in Bristol,” he repeats. “It’s full of characters.” He’s not wrong.

The Little Grosvenor, 3 Coronation Road, Bedminster, Bristol BS3 1AA
0117 904 4433

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