Robin Hood Inn

You know the Robin Hood—it's that proper pub on King Street that's been pulling pints for decades without needing to reinvent itself. Walk in and you're immediately in someone's living room: low ceilings, worn wooden fixtures, the kind of bar where the landlord knows what you drink before you ask. The crowd's mixed—pensioners nursing bitter, post-work drinkers grabbing a quick one, the odd group of mates who've been meeting here since school. Food's straightforward stuff done well: pies that don't pretend to be anything fancy, fish and chips that taste like they should, portions that actually fill you up. It's the sort of place locals choose because it's honest, unpretentious, and the beer's cold.