The Old Grindstone

'Dropping in for a pint are we? Well, shut that door will thee, it's cold.' Ok, it's no longer 1976 and the Grindstone is less an old man's smoky backroom licked with pungent cigar-stained air, than a student-charged drunken haven of fun, loaded with pool tables, corner seats, singing hockey girls and those slightly snooty young professionals who drift in for one before hitting town. Bright, busy and bloody easy to get served in (head for the bar) the 'Grind' is the boozer for catching up with pals and Sunday sessions watching the big screens - if you're out of bed by then.

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