The Prince Of Wales Stoke Sub Hamdon

Let’s talk about a pub that sounds like the result of a royal teleportation accident: The Prince of Wales in Stoke Sub Hamdon. Unless you’ve already tripped over a cobblestone there, this tiny Somerset village is not exactly on the international tourist map. But trust me, this pub is worth getting lost for.

The "Sub" Is Not a Sandwich

First, let’s clear up the name. "Sub Hamdon" isn't a disappointing lunch order—it’s Old English for "below the ham," meaning below the hill. So you’re drinking literally in the shadow of a giant, ancient mound called Ham Hill.

Fun fact: that hill is actually the site of a massive Iron Age fort. So while you’re ordering a pint, imagine ancient Britons hurling spears at Romans from the same view. Priorities change.

The Pub That Feels Like a Hug

Walk inside The Prince of Wales, and you’ll feel like you’ve stumbled into someone’s gloriously messy living room. The floor is wonky enough to make a drunk feel sober, and the ceiling beams are so low, you’ll develop a permanent hunchback—free posture aid included.

The locals will eyeball you for exactly four seconds, then decide you’re fine. By your second sip of cider, you’ll have a nickname. Probably "New Bloke" or "That One Who Can’t Find The Toilet."

Beer, Cider, and a Side of History

They serve proper local ales and real scrumpy cider that might actually remove paint. Order the Thatcher’s Gold—it’s named after a local legend, not the Iron Lady, though both will give you a headache if you overdo it.

Here’s the surprising bit: this pub has been serving drinks since at least the 17th century, and rumor has it that smugglers used to stash their loot in the cellars. Yes, you are drinking on top of buried contraband. Bring a shovel. (Don’t actually bring a shovel.)

Food That Fights Back

The menu is pure pub comfort: massive pies, chips that could double as a weapon, and a Sunday roast so good you’ll consider moving to Stoke Sub Hamdon forever. The cheesy garlic bread is a religious experience—just don’t ask what cheese they use. It’s a secret. They might kill you.

Stoke sub Hamdon, Stoke-Sub-Hamdon

One regular told me the portions are so large, the plate comes with a health warning. I saw a man finish a "Light Bite" and then sit in silence for twenty minutes, contemplating his life choices. No regrets.

The Ghost of a Landlord

Every old pub needs a ghost, and The Prince of Wales has a good one: a former landlord who reportedly still walks the bar, checking if you’ve paid your tab. Locals call him "George," and he’s apparently very strict about not starting a tab and then forgetting.

If you hear a sudden clink of glasses or feel a cold draft, don’t panic. It’s just George. Or possibly the kitchen door. Either way, finish your pint.

Why You Should Go

You go to The Prince of Wales in Stoke Sub Hamdon for an evening that feels like a sitcom pilot. You’ll meet a farmer named Dave who can lift a barrel with one hand, a dog named Brian who owns the best chair, and a story about the time a goat wandered in and ordered a lager.

So grab your phone, put "Stoke Sub Hamdon" in your GPS, and prepare for a night of wonky floors, smashing food, and probably a ghost named George. Just remember: the cider is stronger than it looks. And George is watching.