The love of a traditional pub

This is an edited version of an article that appeared in The Yorkshire Post on 10 March 2026 in which Matt Bromley shares his love of a traditional pub and the tales that are told there…

I love a traditional pub – you know the sort: horse brasses on the walls, exposed beams on the ceiling, a roaring fire in the grate – of which there are many here in God’s Own Country. 

I was in one such pub last week, sat by the fire, pint in hand, when a man opposite got talking. What started as an anecdote about the fireplace soon became an academic lecture about the Anglo-American physicist Benjamin Thompson who served as a British spy (he later invented the Rumford fireplace, hence the segue). I suspect this man travels the country to sit by fires and await a willing audience. Not that I minded; I found his story fascinating. It’s one of the things I love about Yorkshire pubs. You get to meet lots of interesting people with tales to tell.

About two years ago, in another Yorkshire pub (yes, I spend a lot of time in pubs), I saw an old man sitting alone, his chest strung with medals. The table was reserved for ‘George and Mabel’ but the only company the man kept was a photo on the tabletop in front of him. On occasion, he spoke to that snap, a hand placed reverently on it. It broke my heart. But, as a writer, it also ignited a spark. 

It’s a curse, being a writer. You can’t switch off. Everything is material. That man and his photo make it into my new novel, ‘The Cove – Haunted by Murder’. And so do the tales I’ve heard tell in pubs up and down the Yorkshire coastline, not least stories of seafaring, storms, and smuggling…

When I was growing up in West Yorkshire, my family holidays were spent in a touring caravan in Bridlington. At the time, I’d have gladly swapped the chemical toilet and chill tide for an all-inclusive on the Costa Brava, but in adulthood I’ve come to look back fondly on these annual adventures. So much so that my wife and I are now frequent visitors to our county’s ‘golden coast’. We love the sense of history there, as if every stone and timber could tell a story. 

Talking of which, here’s my latest story: Podcaster Sam Spectre agrees to stay the night at The Seacove Inn to investigate claims it’s the most haunted pub in England. But what starts as a ghost-hunt soon becomes a murder mystery when someone’s found dead in the cellar. With the inn sandbagged and cut off by a storm, no one can get in or out… which means the murderer is still there. Two hundred years earlier, newly orphaned Beth Brodie arrives at the Inn to stay with her Uncle Bert, a shadowy figure who controls the local smuggling trade. Corrupted by contraband, he’ll stop at nothing to protect himself – not even murder. With chapters alternating between 1825 and 2025, the events of the past send ripples across time, forming a tidal wave, as we pivot from an MR James ghost story to an Agatha Christie locked-room mystery.

I urge you, dear reader, to enter The Seacove Inn, a pub with a troubled past; it appears to reach out of the sea, a hand searching for land, a sailor hoping for rescue. The waves lash at — angry, rising, half-mad — as though trying to reclaim what had once belonged to them. Grab a pint and find a quiet corner by the fire. Because a storm is coming.   

Read more of Matt’s columns for The Yorkshire Post…