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Brought up in a small village in Devon (early 80s). Age limits were nothing more than ‘guidelines’ and the barman was part of our cricket club so I knew him well. Cheapest drink on offer was a pint of ‘rough’ (cider supplied by one of the local farmers - cloudy and in a wooden barrel, **** knows...

We used to have our fishing club Christmas match on the river there, followed by total carnage in the pub afterwards. It’s not that kind of pub any more [emoji3525]