
Another set of “Half a dozen pubs…” then I can get onto one of the Top 10 pubs in the world, (in all the world). Knowing that I start my journey in Seaton Carew must give that one away.
I’ve just realised that my Central London set omitted a certain pub in favour of the Ship & Shovell; I genuinely thought the Harp was in South West London. That’s how confusing the geography is.

I certainly have enjoyed SWL over the years, it’s the West that scares me, but it was hard picking five.

You’ve got to have a “Youngs” pub, even if Mr John would turn his grave to know it’s brewed in Wolverhampton (is it ?)

“Ooh, an ale drinker. Come and join us at the bar” said the chap in my top of page photo while I sank a gorgeous Shere Drop.
He’d been keeping pubs going without the need to write letters or request ACVs since noon, pure BRAPA gold. We reminisced about Welsh beer and the Valleys and I remembered why folk go in pubs,
Next to me, Becca (sp,?) seemed to disbelieve I’d come down to visit her local.
“Tell me something interesting about Surbiton?”
“Tell me something interesting about Cambridge”
That stumped me.
Next up, one you will know, one of the Famous Five (probably Dick).
Partly the history, partly the beer, partly because Belgravia’s mews (not a Chinese takeaway) are a tourist attraction in their own right.

I haven’t been for 8 years, since I last did the 5 GBG ever-presents, and I liked the Star as much as when I visited on its 25th Guide anniversary.
“Its a very relaxing atmosphere, with proper pubby seating and fresh flowers. There’s a bloke at the bar eating his sandwich and chips, which I like. Drinkers and diners mix, and the food is from a short, interesting menu.”

Not for the first, or last time, the ESB was the star.

But no Buckingham Arms, Retired Martin ? Nope. I would have picked Westminster’s Speaker for the atmosphere and beer, but it’s years since I visited after a meeting in Whitehall.

Because you ought to visit Tooting, if only for a South Indian curry, and because any pub with gentlefolk like these two,

enjoying a pint on a Saturday can’t be put in a box called “Middle-class Wandsworth gastro”.
It was here Mrs RM made the rather touching remark “I hope we’re still going to pubs and drinking pints when we’re as old as them“.
Couple of decent local beers, too.
Rather more than a couple of decent local beers at the Hope, perennial award winner.
Shame I haven’t been for a decade, must remedy that when I get to Carshalton’s new entry this year.

Frankly, all I can tell you from memory is this was a vibrant back street beer house, but Geoff D wrote “Obviously I will need to carry out much more detailed research with a qualified team but on the three times I have been here the staff have been friendly, the atmosphere really pleasant and the beer excellent. They have what looks like a very good value menu but I’ve not tried it as I’ve had some chili I made at home… That was lush by the way.” And Geoff is right.

And finally,
Partly because you MUST see the Power Station built by Pink Floyd for the cover of one of their interminable ’70s prog rock nonsenses.

Though frankly, the new tube station and new housing are just as good.
And you really need the Fullers gastropub experience, home of the £6 pint and £18 burger.

I’ve said this a lot recently, but London bar staff have come into their own these last few post-Covid years.
“No need to rush !” she says, as I gamely count out £2.75 in silver at the bar.

I used to think London pubs treated tourists and beer tickers with a thinly veiled contempt, and perhaps they still do. But in pubs like the Mason’s you’d not know, and I reckon post-Covid that friendliness is charming.
Over to you for the sixth.
Animals was the album that led a lot of to us run to The Clash. Many of us weren’t fit enough to get to Sex Pistols.
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Used to live in Surbiton and the landlord from the black lion would always be at the gym when I went in n the afternoons. Well I say gym, it was the sauna, jacuzzi and steam room. Honking up massive greenies and reading the sun . In the sauna. Disgusting old bloke. I grassed him up loads of times but he was always there.
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Thanks for that Chris.
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Well that’s the sort of detail I expect. So much classier over the Thames in Hampton (possibly).
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Ha, sorry, mine was the anonymous (by mistake) comment above and wanted to be notified if you replied.
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“You’ve got to have a “Youngs” pub, even if Mr John would turn his grave to know it’s brewed in Wolverhampton (is it ?)”
It is and I doubt if he would have thought worse of Wolverhampton than Bedford.
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It’ll soon be fifty years since my first ESB in he Star.
A horse drawn Watneys dray delivering wooden casks to the Star is the highlight of the 1948 film The Fallen Idol.
The 1963 film Sparrows Can’t Sing is the one for a Manns’s dray delivering to the lesser known Pride of the Isles at the corner of Cheval Street and Havannah Street.
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