retiredmartin

January 2026. Streatham. London

Dad got the full ambulance treatment on Friday night, but made such a miraculous recovery overnight that I felt confident about trekking back to Rye the next morning. 90 year olds have incredible bouncebackability.

Time for a couple of London pubs ?

Half an hour and £8 from St Pancras brings you South-West to Streatham,

a culturally diverse place lacking the gentrification of Brixton and Dulwich,

but I bet you could eat well here.

This is going to be an exciting little break in an unsung part of London, with two GBG ticks 20 minutes apart,

and some great fontage,

and frontage.

Quosh reminds me that Streatham’s Crown and Sceptre is the pub name checked by The Clash.

“An’ if you’re in the crown tonight
Have a drink on me
But go easy…step lightly…stay free“

But it’s the White Lion that’s the architectural standout with its Hobgoblin (him again).

Faded grandeur is the word for Streatham High Road,

and the Spoons carpets at the Holland Tringham have seen better days.

But this is a cheery Spoons, a cultural melting pot of a pub (See also : the Elephant & Castle JDW), and I decide to linger over a late lunch.

A rather longer linger than expected, as I initially fail to press the button that says PAY, and sit like an idiot for 15 minutes wondering if I should chase my pint of Loddon Talon (cool, tasty NBSS 3.5).

On the next table a group of Old Boys are meeting up for their annual Christmas chinwag, a day which unexpectedly started “with caviar for breakfast“, before reaching its climax of ham, eggs and chips with pints of Leffe.

I’ve been in worse Spoons, I’ve been in better, worth a (belated) GBG spot.

I never did bother to read what the connection to Barclay Perkins is.