Pub: The Black Swan
Address: Peasholme Green
Average Drink Price: £3
Rating: * * *
This is a friendly pub. Too friendly. Worryingly friendly. When you walk into the bar, complete strangers will nod and smile in welcome. On leaving, patrons have a habit of wandering around the various rooms to say goodnight to everyone.
At first it seemed charming. But gradually, more unusual elements added themselves to the atmosphere of the place. Cadaverous men in antique dress flitted past doorways, cold drafts chilled us in rooms with no open windows or doors, and the less said about the unearthly sounds that emanated from the private function suite the better.
In this context, the cordiality of the locals took on a decidedly sinister tone. Their constant cheeriness and amity put us in mind of a religious cult. An hour of this, coupled with the various M. R. Jamesian goings-on, drove my friend and I to speculate as to what manner of fate the denizens had in store for us. We decided that the most likely scenarios were some sort of ritualistic sacrifice, possibly involving the use of our body parts in pub meals, or simple pagan organ-harvesting for the sun-god.
When a young girl wearing a dress and a vacant stare traipsed into the room and sat alone in the corner with her juice, we finally gave in to the screaming heebie-jeebies and fled into the cold, misty York night.