Built over a church crypt and graveyard, The Victoria pub might just be one of the most unique in the country. The oldest pub in Chester, the Victoria is neatly tucked on Eastgate Row in the iconic city centre.
The 754-year-old pub is in a prime location for punters sitting amidst the hustle and bustle of the shopping crowds and tourists and the sweet sounds of Buskers are almost always performing at the Cross to their appreciative crowds.
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As reported in CheshireLive, the pub shares a wall with St Peter's Church, the site of the Principia, the administrative building in Roman times. The beer cellar is built on top of the church's crypt, and to enter the pub from the opposite side to the Rows, patrons must walk over the old graveyard, a fact a sign outside the pub proudly proclaims: The Victoria Pub is situated on the former site of the HQ for the Roman Legion based in the ancient city of Deva, and lies in close proximity to Chester High Cross, the exact centre of the old walled city.
The property first became a pub in 1269, and obtained its current name at the turn of the century in honour of the then Queen. Now a listed building, with its odd shaped doors, low roof, antique settles and oak beams (of which the main beam has been in place for 726 years and is almost 1,000 years old) it has a charm of its own, despite the cellar being positioned over St. Peter’s Church crypt and the courtyard being a flagged-over graveyard.
Inside, the pub snakes around the bar at its centre. Little alcoves feel like annexes due to the pub's unconventional layout. The barman stoops down to pass a pint through the narrow gap between the bar and the low ceiling, hanging and billowing between the beams that pin it back.
Opposite one side of the bar, tall and narrow booths made of dark mahogany and ironwork in floral patterns will fit just two people each, with a semi-circular table squeezed in between them, just big enough to stick two pints on.
From the dark booths, deep within the pub, a window can be seen out on to the Rows. The view stretches all along bustling Bridge Street, where another world basks in glorious sunshine.
The window is no bigger than any average bedroom window, but looks huge, taking up the whole wall from the top of the leather-buttoned bench to the ornate plaster mouldings on the ceiling. It’s a view that perhaps hasn’t changed all that much since Cromwell closed the pubs just shy of 400 years ago.
Regulars talk across the tables in front of the window, enjoying soup, pies and other hot meals that fly out of the kitchen. One man takes a quick lunch, standing at the bar, while others enjoy theirs at their leisure in the small parlour to the rear of the pub, divided from the bar by a few steps and set around a tiled fireplace with a heavy iron grate.
It has the kind of features and atmosphere that many pubs, especially in trendy city centres, have lost. For all the beauty and history in its architechture, a plaque above the bar reminds patrons to raise a drink to a former regular, a reminder that it is people that make the pub.
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