Here’s the kicker: The Nags Head is so old and oddly positioned that it doesn’t have a proper garden. Instead, it has a tiny, crooked courtyard with five tables and a wall that someone painted a mural of a zebra on. Why a zebra? Nobody knows. The locals will tell you it’s a tribute to some long-dead regular who loved zoos. Truth is, no one remembers.
It doesn’t matter. The zebra is part of the magic. Go to The Nags Head before they decide to “modernize” it. Go for the low ceilings, the questionable toilet, the world-class chips, and the glorious, stubborn weirdness of a pub that has seen it all and simply doesn’t care to change.
Bring a crash helmet for the beams. And say hello to the golden retriever in the chair. He owns the place.
