Hastings Arms

When dreams go to die, where do they end up? It’s a question I’ve never before found myself pondering, however, last night I found the answer without even needing to ask the question.
The Hastings Arms is one of the most depressing places I’ve ever spent a Saturday night. Out the back a birthday party was taking place; with only a tinsel curtain separating it from the rest of the pub, we were subjected to the modern, happening hits of Gina G alongside several plays of ‘Gangnam Style’. Good lord. I wanted to pull my own ears off just to make it stop. Apparently on the Saturdays they don’t host parties it’s karaōke, so I probably ended up with the better deal.
The pub itself has the atmosphere of a funeral wake; patrons sitting in silence, staring down morosely into their drinks while football matches that are weeks old play on mute on two huge wide screen TVs.
«Why three stars then?», you ask; well, the drinks are very reasonably priced. A round for four people didn’t even touch the £15 mark and they have a pretty good selection of alcohol, including a few guest ales. The bar staff are friendly enough and the toilets are kept very clean.
I’m in no particular rush to go back, but at least as I have a future venue in mind of where to hold the after party when I eventually pop my clogs.