In November, Scruffy Murphy's in Lad Lane, Newcastle, reverted to its proper name - the Old Bull's Head - two years after PPPG predicted in print that this would occur.

For the traditionalist, this was the moment to raise his foaming tankard in the air and thank Heaven that sanity had been restored. Then came the news that a refurbishment was in the offing, and suddenly those who were raising their glasses slammed them back down on the convivial table. Brows furrowed, as fresh fears for the pub's integrity began to take hold.

Would this "mock Irish" pub be given the "mock English" treatment, with chintzy corner cupboards and Maggie's Corner-style bookshelves added, to "prove" the antiquity of a pub dating back to 1734 at latest? Let's face it, other Newcastle pubs have been given the "fake traditional" make-over, in accordance with the pub-owning companies' apparent view that "it ain't fantastic unless it's plastic". These pubs now evince all the credibility of a Geri Halliwell aria.

Well, PPPG members, having visited the Old Bull's Head have given it a cautious "thumbs-up". In truth, we would have preferred there to be no change at all, bar the re-naming, for even during the bogus Irish phase, the pub was dimly-lit, cosy and comfortable. Alterations have been fairly sensitive, by far the most conspicuous change being the introduction of handsome paintings of Newcastle and marks on the walls - St. Giles' church 1840, the Municipal Hall 1890, the Queen's Gardens - though one member of the Group described this as a "naff' idea.

The pub is still intimate, still has coal fires, and the fascia signage is eminently sensible and restrained. All in all, the pub deserves to do well, and I for one shall be visiting again - especially if the Old Bull's Head can join the minority of pubs actually displaying visible Drinks Price Lists. Did these go "out" with stove-pots, or what?

Those interested in the history of the pub may wander around reading the hand-painted captions on the walls. You will find that a cheating soldier who found himself at the centre of a love triangle shot himself in the bar in 1842. However, my own favourite story relating to the pub's history is more recent. One day in 1957, as reported in the local press, an Irishman entered the pub and began distributing £1 notes. He gave one drinker £82, before ordering 20 pints of beer.

However, soon after, the police arrived and arrested him for stealing £200 from the nearby Lloyd's Bank. They had caught him trying to escape through the roof of the ladies' toilet, and at the subsequent trial, Mr. Rigby (prosecuting) remarked that "it was most unfortunate for the man in that unlike most public houses, this has no back door".

In the days when Queen Victoria sat proudly on her throne, there were numerous "museum taverns" scattered along the length and breadth of Albion's shores. These pubs displayed rabbits, leopards and other animals that bore testimony to the taxidermist's dexterity.

In Newcastle under Lyme, "Old Joe" Cook's "Museum of curiosities in nature and art" was a huge draw, and his stuffed creatures such as "the largest wolf in England" and "beautiful Arctic fox" were regularly advertised in the newspapers. The pub, originally known as the Farmer's Arms beerhouse, later became the Museum Inn, and survives today. The Jug Inn in Shelton (now the Victoria) boasted similar, as well as "the largest fresh water aquarium in England" in 1880, whilst Stoke's Wheatsheaf had a "museum of birds, taps and bottles" in the mid 19th century.

Few pub museums survive in year 2000 Britain. In fact, modern pub bric-a-brac usually consists of nothing more original than unwanted copies of the Writers' and Artists' Yearbook 1987 and reproduction prints of Constable's Flatford Mill. It is refreshing then, to pay a visit to the Yew Tree Inn at Cauldon Low.

The Yew Tree is situated 15 miles east of Stoke on Trent, but is my own favourite hostelry "in and around the Potteries". Indeed, Alan East's pub has received plaudits galore over the years. It was CAMRA (Potteries Branch) Pub of the Year in 1985 and 1989, and has recently been included in the Millennium edition of the Good Pub Guide, as the "Collector's Pub of the Year".

Outside, on the forecourt, the eponymous yew spreads its boughs in welcome. This is a 17th century inn whose main room displays 18th and early 19th century settles. Elsewhere, there are grandfather clocks, a pub lantern from the "Botteslow Arms", old guns and pistols, a crank handle telephone and last, but not least, polyphons (in many respects the forerunners of the juke-box). It is a veritable Aladdin's Cave of bibelots and bygone bric-a-brac, bearing witness to the licensee's magpie-like collecting instincts. One particular item to take my eye on my last visit (November 24) was a sign, embrowned by the effects of time and nicotine, and displayed on one wall. It reads:

"This room is equipped with an Edison electric light. Do not attempt to light with a match, simply turn the key on the wall by the door. The use of electric ity for lighting is in no way harmful to health, nor does it affect the soundness of sleep". I spent the first half of my latest sojourn at the Yew Tree in taking photographs of this splendid pub, before grabbing my pint and being swallowed up by a poorly upholstered antique armchair. The pub is a haven of peace, with its low-lighting and civilised atmosphere - truly, the perfect place for pub conversation, or somewhere to just sit and ponder the riddles of the macrocosm.