The North Pole, Canary Wharf

Yes, it's well and truly closed.

I came across this place when freelancing in Canary Wharf. Proper old school. Ordered a pint and omelette and chips. Was asked for my name; which the barmaid shouted out when the food was ready some 15 minutes later.

Went there again about a week later and the barmaid greeted me by name and remembered the drink I'd had last time.

The chances of that happening at any of the bland lager chains in Canary Wharf were, and still are, pretty close to zero.

4 Jun 2014 14:47

The GlassHouse, New Malden

It would have taken something pretty desperate to make me go back to this pub, and so it was last Thursday evening when I arrived at New Malden station absolutely bursting for a pee. OK, I thought, just this once. Being incapable of brazenly use a pub's facilities without at least ordering a quick half, I had time to take stock and re-evaluate the place. And after staying there for well over an hour (not with the same half), during which I was not glassed, threatened, stared at or abused even once, I came to the conclusion that the place has indeed changed.

There's live music there for start (well there was on this Thursday); a couple of guys with accoustic guitars doing their best not to mangle too many classics. Plus there's a football table (glass-topped, unfortunately) that to me is a sign of civilisation.

On the evidence of this visit at least, I'll be going back.

8 Oct 2006 12:07

The Windmill on the Common, Clapham Common

This is going back some twenty years but it's still a good story. I had ordered a round of drinks and was busy carrying them to where my mates were standing (some distance from the bar). Eventually, I came back for my own pint of Special. Putting it to my mouth I immediately noticed that it smelled of piss. I'm not being colloquial here, it really did smell of urine.

So I handed it back to the barman. He took one sniff and said "George has been up to his old tricks again." Basically, there used to be a local nutter who wore this kind of one-piece boiler suit with a tube sewn into it. One end was clamped to his old man, and the other came out at his sleeve. He'd get off on quietly adding his piss to strangers' pints. How weird is that?

The funny thing was the reaction of the bar staff. Surely they would have barred George the very first time they'd caught him performing his 'old trick', not let him back in to do it again and again.

Anyway, the Windmill will always have (mostly) happy memories for me as I met my future wife there. Ahh...

12 Apr 2006 17:30