RECENTLY we found a great little local, the Heather Brow at Claughton in Birkenhead.

It was blessed with a God’s Waiting Room.

Far from being morbid, this is a dry, charming expression which takes an irreverent bow to the inevitable for a part of a pub where older men – and women – will meet their friends. Inevitably, as the Brow’s owner Tony Houlihan – a veteran himself – confirmed, the talk would sometimes turn to days gone by and drinking chums who had moved on, metaphorically speaking, to the room upstairs.

This week Lady Penelope of Pensby – the Pub Column’s equivalent of a sniffer dog with a nose not for crack cocaine but cracking traditional Wirral pubs – took us to another with a Waiting Room, the Farmers Arms in Wallasey Village.

Having been built it 1924 it’s only a relatively recent addition to the peninsula’s pub canon – but has the feeling of being a great deal older. Its central serving area is surrounded by three open rooms – a proper standing room only bar (with no truck for wussey non essentials such as tables and comfy chairs), a large back lounge and the cosy snug-like Copper Room at the side.

This is where the Farmers own good old boys and girls tend to meet. And, sure enough, when The Lady and Yours Truly popped in on a mellow, sun-dappled afternoon, there they were, a lively bunch of old boys grouped together.

While one ear was pleasantly wafted by the Lady’s conversational jingle-jangle about Bowser, her much-missed Old English sheep dog, tonight’s tea, and other such womanly preoccupations, the other surreptitiously tuned into the discussion going on elsewhere which spanned the village’s history, local characters, and yes, even a breezy mention of mortality.

It ended with one old boy declaring: “I look on death as the last great adventure.”

We secretly toasted his confidence.

Locally-born landlady Linda Campbell-Jones confirmed that the Farmers was an erstwhile community centre steeped in tradition and very much part of the old school where customers looked after each other. Despite being here only 15 months, beer is in her veins, even though she doesn’t even like the stuff. She’s been a landlady for much of her 51 years having previously managed the Telegraph in New Brighton among others. But when the chance came to buy the lease for the Farmers she didn’t hesitate.

“I jumped at it, especially since I never thought it would come up for sale because it was such a good pub,” said Linda, who was adamant she wasn’t going to fix what hadn’t been broken by the man who had run the pub for 20 years before her.

There were a few Wallasey Whispers, of the Chinese variety, that traditionalists’ Anti Christs juke boxes and even karaoke might arrive on Linda’s heels.

But the Farmers kept to the adage that a pub passes muster on conversation and well kept beer, which it has in spades. There are five real ale casks which are looked after by Linda and her cellarman Brian. Three of them are bitter constants – Theakstons, Tetleys, Cains – plus Ansells Mild and one guest which on our visit was Old Speckled Hen with its beefy 5% poke to it.

The only concession to contemporary demand is Sky Sports as, like the Heather Brow, this is ostensibly a man’s pub, which supports two golf societies and where footie is avidly followed by customers no matter what their age.

“But that’s it. We’ve already got the whole package with brilliant staff and customers. We don’t need anything more than that,” said Linda proudly.

Heaven can wait, as they say.

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