373) The Ramble of Killester Avenue, Clontarf West, D5
By far the worst establishment we visited on this stretch. And indeed one of the worst we have ever seen. Located next to a sad strip of shops, many of which look abandoned and shut, perhaps victims of Covid - fortunately, the pharmacy and the Centra are still functioning. Not even the cartoon-Guinness-smiley-faced-logo can lift spirits. The bar is grey on the outside and grey on the inside, and grey is the mood it induces. We entered the bar area first, and got a fright. It’s coffin-sized and dominated by an oversized pool table at which nobody was playing. The only table was full of a quartet of silent and somnolent old men, whose committee meeting we might have been interrupting. We very rapidly backed out in favour of the lounge - not much improvement, but a bit more spacious, peopled by muttering tracksuits and an anorak-bedecked genius placing bets in between sips of his Heineken.
The sickly sweet Guinness goes for a fiver - Andrew Stephens got through it in four gulps - the drinking time is thus more strenuous, but there’s less of it. And this was not a hole we wanted to linger long in. There is no sense of history here, and barely a photo adorns the blank and looming walls - the toilets are imperfectly signposted and two vast TVs blare forth a competing cacophony of panel shows and races. Shutters were down, in spite of the radiance outside. One got the impression one could take a shit on the floor and nobody would care, least of all the sullen barman, dopey and yawning in his moth-eaten cardigan. The place was not actively unfriendly or hostile, simply deeply dispiriting. We left fast.
P.S. The name is a curio, it was once called The Ramble ‘INN,’ but even that little bit of charm it once had is lost, and probably in court, for a pub down in the county Cork holds the title already and has been in business for over 30 years.
P.P.S. On exiting, Sam Coll narrowly avoided standing on a huge pile of dog shite, which once again (see: McCauley’s), is a fitting sign of his recent experience at this establishment. Said he grimly, ‘I’d rather be in Noctor’s’ - and that is saying something!
Was once The Ramble INN
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