WEDNESDAY nights may not be the prime time for a drink in Worthing.

Frankly, the evening called for a bag of cans and a park bench strategically placed so I could shout at youths on bikes.

But – call me adventurous – I decided to broaden my horizons and visit The Cricketers, a Broadwater institution.

Presumably engaged in a battle for the soul of the neighbourhood with the Greene King down the road, the pub has held its own on Broadwater’s shopping parade.

Alumni from the cricket green opposite have celebrated and commiserated here for generations.

Not that I knew any of their names.

No doubt the place would have been humming during England’s Ashes heroics on the weekend.

But as I entered the pub’s wide-open doors with Mrs PubSpy on Wednesday night, we were greeted with less jubilant scenes.

To the right of us was a contingent of darts players deep in competition.

To their credit, their periodic hollers certainly livened up the place a little.

Every so often, the female version of Phil “The Power” Taylor would step up and fire a volley of darts, to the cheers of her fellow players.

I was tempted to give them a game, but I did not fancy being run out of the pub within 20 minutes of getting there.

Instead, Mrs PubSpy and I sauntered over to the counter and ordered two pints of Amstel.

Cold glasses and minimal head – it was just what we needed.

But at £4.50 a pop, it did not go down as smoothly as I had hoped.

Settled into our chairs, we cast our eyes across the pub’s decor.

With wood furnishings and abundant red carpet, it certainly felt homely, unlike newer, soulless pubs.

Dusty cricket memorabilia from years gone by lined the walls.

But the apart from the World Darts Federation hopefuls near us, not much was going on inside.

A few token regulars were huddled around tables, looking a bit glum.

All Mrs PubSpy and I had to do was talk to each other.

After two minutes we decided that was a bad idea and instead inspected the coasters on our table railing against the beer tax.

If it meant paying less for a pint of Fosters, then I was all for it.

But with talk of national shortages in the future, I could not help but feel beer prices would be the least of my worries.

The Cricketers’ selection of ales was pretty reasonable, but I feared coming back in three months and seeing nothing but puddlewater and diluted petrol on the menu.

Then again, for a building that has been serving drinks since the 19th century, it could be a fun event theme.

With that thought, I headed back to the bar and ordered another two Amstels while I still could.

Wandering about the pub, I could not help but feel rather cosy.

The beer garden outside looked nice, and, peering out the doorway into Broadwater, everything felt oddly quaint.

Apart from the neon sign of a nearby Dominos, it could have been a scene from better days.

After seeing two men step out of a car outside with black cases, I thought things were about to get interesting.

Perhaps we were in from some music – or even a gunfight.

But as the men stepped in and strode towards the darts players, it became obvious their cases only held pool cues.

Obviously Wednesday night has never been eventful at the Cricketers, but we felt satisfied enough as we stepped out after 10pm.