It’s been a tough start to the year for the Dog & Partridge’s husband-and-wife owners, but with the help of a world-class neurosurgeon and a loyal pub community, they’re back behind the bar with a fresh perspective on life…
After a standout twelve months that saw the Dog crowned Best Traditional Pub at the Exposed Awards, named one of the UK’s top ten boozers by Guinness and raising thousands for S6 Foodbank off the back of a raucous ‘Pack Up and F*** Off’ general election party, pub owners Sarah and Conor Smith were feeling revitalised and ready to build on their success in 2025.
A refurb kicked things off nicely. The kitchen was buzzing again, the Irish specials were flying out and plans were afoot to spruce up the outside area. “We’re always evolving,” Conor says. “Not massive changes but always trying to make it a bit better.”
Then came the curveball. “We were just back from a weekend in Liverpool, where I’d been a little confused at times, and I turned round to Conor and just said, something’s not right,” Sarah recalls. “No pain, nothing obvious, just this feeling.” Within 48 hours, she was in A&E, and soon after, an MRI revealed a brain tumour the size of a fist.
“It was seven by four centimetres,” she says. “They said I’d probably had it for over 15 years.”
The unwelcome guest was promptly named ‘Elon’ (no prizes for guessing why). “It just felt right,” she adds, laughing. “Elon the Tumour – soon to become Musk the Husk.”
Despite the gallows humour, the days that followed were anything but easy. “The worst bit,” she says, “was the wait between the diagnosis and the operation. You’re just sat there knowing it’s in you and you can’t do anything about it.”
Thankfully, the tumour was benign. The NHS moved fast, and the operation was scheduled within weeks. “They were incredible,” Sarah says. “Honestly, world-class. My neurosurgeon was at the forefront of the Gamma Knife procedure.”
Within three days of having her skull opened and the tumour removed, she was out of hospital – and back in the pub. “They told me I should’ve stayed in for two weeks,” she explains, proudly displaying a mean-looking surgical scar on her scalp. “But I just wanted to get back.”
And while she’s still recovering – there’ve been post-op pressure headaches, memory blips and many moments of fatigue – the experience has left her with a whole new outlook.
“You really don’t sweat the small stuff anymore,” she says. “Say a guest beer runs out or someone phones in sick, it’s not a big deal! But it’s also made us more determined to enjoy life and work and the people around us.” That shift in perspective has fed into how they’ll keep running the pub – just as they have for the last 13 years, but with even more heart. “We’ve always loved it, but now it’s even clearer what matters. The music nights, the food bank collections, giving something back – we’re doubling down on all that.”
She’s become determined to talk openly about her diagnosis, and documented much of the journey, warts and all, on social media in the hope of breaking down stigmas. “I had no idea brain tumours were the biggest cancer killer of kids and adults under 40,” she says. “My symptoms were just a weird taste in my mouth and a bit of confusion. If Covid hadn’t happened, they might’ve found it sooner, but we just assumed everything was Covid-related back then.”
Her advice is simple: “If something feels off, trust your body. Go get checked. Don’t sleep on it.”
In true Dog & Partridge style, the community rallied around her and Conor. “It’s been unbelievable,” she says. “People dropping in to give their best wishes, gifts, cards, even money to get my eyebrows done because I mentioned it in passing! I’ve had messages from Ireland, Australia, America, all over.”
The pub’s team have stepped up, too. “Matt, Nicola, Grace, Arry – every single one of them has been amazing,” Conor adds. “We’ve always said the Dog is about community, and this has shown it’s not just talk or a buzzword. People care and it counts for something.”
Dogfest is back on 3 May, and they’re looking at launching Irish language and tin whistle lessons, alongside their already popular music sessions – Bluegrass on the second Thursday of the month and Americana on the last. “They’re amazing,” Conor says. “Not just gigs – proper sessions where people get involved and are made to feel welcome.”
There’s also a big party planned for June – Sarah’s official recovery celebration – a chance to raise a glass, have a dance and toast the community that’s been with them every step of the way.
Until then, she’s taking it one day at a time. “Getting out for a walk when I can, doing bits when I can, easing back in,” she says. “Some of the symptoms to look out for include loss of smell, gaps in memory, loss of balance, not being able to find the correct words and feeling confused. I’m listing these because if it helps one person get an early diagnosis, then it’s worth it.”
As she says this, someone waves as they enter the pub. Another punter checking in, another hand on her shoulder, another reminder that at the Dog & Partridge, it’s not just a pub – it’s a family.
