Illustration by Marta Signori There are two “Grantas” in the life of the thinking man or woman. There is Granta , the leading literary journal in the Anglophone world, which published the early William Empson, and is now helmed by the redoubtable Thomas Meaney. Then there is the Granta, Cambridge’s noblest, warmest and most picturesque watering hole. The pub hunkers over a pitstop in the the River Cam, the junction known as “Mill Pond” where punts and punters alike gather. And its terrace is open to the riverside, baking in the spring sunshine and freezing in the winter, when cold winds blow over the flat, unbreaking Fens. Pubby displays of affection… The pub is also a known hive of romance for even the most unlikely students of the town. I wish I could say that my most abiding memory of the place is of hot intellectual dispute, relitigating the intentional fallacy and revisiting IA Richards.…