retiredmartin

October 2025. Trafalgar Square. London.

Another year, another paltry handful of GBG newbies in what you’d imagine was a vast chapter of central London pubs. On the other hand, a lack of churn suggests consistent standards year-on-year, surely ?

A couple of debutants right by Trafalgar Square within sight of Big Ben, which a generation ago would have been where all the tourists head to, but now it’s Borough and Bromley Bethnal Green.

Two pubs run by traditional names, Fullers and Youngs, with McMullens back in the Guide in Covent Garden.

If the clue to a Black Country Ales pub is floral, the clue it’s Fullers is “pies”, though the Admiralty seems more focused on fish and chips.

Oh, and hand pumps with unnecessary paper tags on them (see also : Youngs).

An American lady is surveying the wickets (ugh) with bewilderment, which increases when not one, but two, choices turn out to be off.

“I only wanted a beer !“. She ends up with Pride, the one I’d pointed at to start with before checking my privilege.

I go ESB, of course, it’s what BRAPA would do, and retire to the chaise lounge.

I only pick that seat because it’s the lone spare table, and immediately feel the eyes of Spanish and Italian families on me, wondering how someone could be so socially unaware as to hog a table for four.

So I direct the Italian family to it and perch on a table under the staircase and finish a chewy ESB rather quicker than sensible.

OK, it’s half-term, but the vibrant trade is almost entirely European families, and if this was your introduction to UK pub culture you’d be impressed, even at £7 a pint.

“Troppe pompe a mano” says Italian Dad.