Bringing people together since 1757.
A pint by my fire, a catch-up with neighbours, a party upstairs or a bed for the night. Come in and pull up a chair.
Pull up a chair.
I've stood on the Ridgeway since the days of the stagecoach, and Plympton has been coming through my door ever since. Under new management this autumn, but the same old George: real ales, a warm fire, and everyone welcome, dogs included.
Pull a chair up close and I'll tell you a secret: my fireplace has heard more of Plympton's stories than anyone. First dates and fiftieth birthdays. Old friends putting the world to rights. Walkers thawing out after a day on the moor, with a wet dog steaming gently at their feet.
Tonight my hearth is having a rest. The logs are stacked beside it, waiting for the first cold evening, and the stories are still here in the old stones. Come and sit by it anyway. A good tale never needed a fire to be told.
– George
Fire not lit