We went to look at a house tonight. ‘Converted chapel in historic Yorkshire mill town‘ certainly has a ring to it, even if it’s probably a bit of a pretentious shrill these days. Still, our jaws had dropped at the 3 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms over 3 floors, connected with a central spiral staircase and an attic living area that holds 100 people, all for under £195k. We had to look.

Despite the en suite shower wet room, integrated sound system, gated forecourt, all-in-one central kitchen unit and 8 foot (yes, 8 foot wide!) projector system in the attic/lounge I was disillusioned at the lack of garden space. Sitting in my ‘living area’ looking down on the Victorian park through my electric skylights I’d be comfy enough, but unfulfilled. A summer beer ain’t a beer if you’re not in the garden.

“I’m not really in t’garden” says the vendor. “Spen’dya ‘ole life wurking Satd’ys t’ave a barbecue on Sund’y's…not for me”.

Now I’m no green fingers, but I enjoyed landscaping the garden so that now I can sit and relax in it. I enjoy watering the easy-to-maintain shrubbery and even delighting at the garden lilies when they burst skyward in their orange, yellow and angel white glory. A sweep of the patio in the morning, a few weeds pulled up here and there – it’s all in the aid of that perfect evening sat with a beer, watching the sun fall behind the neighbours trees and the line of semi-detached gables turn orange and then rusty brown.

It’s not like I give up every Saturday. And when I do have to delve into the garage for my rake and strimmer, an afternoon in the garden means tops off, skins on and organic debris everywhere. Working up a sweat means ham and cheese on soda bread and a bottle of cold beer to cool down.

Gardening should be leisure and that’s why you can take your intercom and your walk in wardrobe; you can shove your separate laundry room and guest bedroom floor; I’m not fussed about the lights you designed yourself or the remote controlled garage door. I’m happy looking in through your high arched windows and knowing that I’m walking home to my garden. And hopefully a glass of beer.

Life's simple pleasures: a beer in the garden (in a fancy oversized wine glass)

If any of you London folk are still speechless at the price, I advise you to move up North. The nearest local pub to the ‘house’ we viewed sells Sam Smith’s bitter at less than £1.30 a pint and local butchers Wilson’s do the world’s best all meat pork pies for 85p. The North’s where it’s at folks 9as long as you can find a beer garden).

I found this bar recommended in a review of places to go for real ales in London – I would be more than willing to pass the recommendation on to anyone else.

My guide for the day assured me that this wasn’t the best of areas in the capital and that he would be massively surprised if we found the sort of pub we were looking for, if I’m honest, as we walked from the tube, I began to believe him more and more. Keeping the faith I made him bash on and it wasn’t long before I was sat with my ale thinking ‘I wish I’d bet him a fiver’.

The pub, set back from the road, is smart, well kept and would surely grace any area of town. What it does have, and what I feel escapes many pubs as tidy as this, was a local atmosphere. There were a good number of locals drinking and chats at the urinal, what else do you need to feel immediately at home?

Turning to the beer I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed with the fact that there was only London Pride and one guest ale available on draft. ‘When in Rome……’ I had a London Pride and I have to say it was a belting pint. At the worst of times London Pride is a smooth, easy drinking, beer and on this hot afternoon, after the walk from the tube, that effect was definitely accentuated.

Credit to the landlord because the beer was poured with patience, allowed to settle, and then topped up after payment had been taken. My cynical companion, who was already lucky not to be a fiver lighter by this stage, thought this was only because it was the landlord and because the bar was quiet. Repeat visits proved him wrong again as the other staff carried on in exactly the same way.

I’m not really sure about the surroundings, or whether this place is accessible enough to drop in on a night out, but, all in all, I would have to say I’d be chuffed to bits with having The Beehive as my local.

Website – www.thebeehivebar.co.uk