Written March 2009

THERE ARE FEW LESS SALUBRIOUS LOCATIONS IN EDINBURGH THAN WEST REGISTER STREET. DESPITE ITS PROXIMITY TO THE HEART OF TOWN, ITS ENTRANCE IS SANDWICHED BETWEEN A BURGER KING AND PACKS OF BORED TEENAGERS MILLING AROUND OUTSIDE THE ST JAMES CENTRE. IN THE SUMMER IT CAN BE QUITE A STRUGGLE TO REACH, WHEN POLITICAL ACTIVISTS AND PERUVIAN BUSKERS TAKE SHIFTS OBSTRUCTING THE SHOPPERS.

The Guildford arms is however, cocooned from the general hubbub by a lovely revolving door and give an immediate impression of warmth with a touch of faded grandeur. Plentiful windows cast a soft light and seating is clustered around the edges, with a more private, secluded feel to the back of the pub where food is served. The decor and fittings are mostly original and wonderfully O.T.T; a high, vaulted ceiling with ornate painted mouldings, and plush carpet. The only concessions to modernity are the pleasantly unobtrusive T.V. and the soft soundtrack of solidly M.O.R pop.

But, as in any decent pub, it is the bar that dominates. The Guildford impresses with both the quality and range of beers it serves. Ten taps of (mostly Scottish) cask ales, with a selection of beers from Caledonian, Harviestoun, Stewart’s and Orkney available, and some very interesting guest ales to boot. On my last visit I had a rather nice pint of spicy, American-style pale ale from The Sulwath Brewery in Castle Douglas, followed by a pint of the deceptively creamy, mild and malty Stewart’s No 3. Both were poured to perfection by friendly, attentive staff.

If good beer doesn’t do it for you they have a further 12(!) taps of lagers, ciders and Weiss beers, including Budvar & Peroni . They are one of the very few pubs in Edinburgh to serve a decent glass of Weihenstephaner.

It seems inevitable that with so much care and attention lavished on the beer, that the wine list would be something of an afterthought. What does surprise however is the tired nature of the range of both spirits and Malts on offer.

Despite this, I find it very difficult to resist the siren call of The Guildford when I find myself anywhere near the East end of Princes Street. It really is a little oasis of genteel intoxication in the very heart of Auld Reekie.