Best Pool Tables Pubs

Just what Stoke Newington needed - another pub masquerading as something exotic. The Yucatan Bar in London sounds like it should be serving up mezcal flights and authentic Mexican street food, but let's be honest, it's about as Yucatan as I am Yucatecan. And yet, against all odds and my better judgment, I find myself grudgingly admiring this place. First, let's address the elephant in the room - the name. This former Victorian boozer, once sensibly called The Walford, decided to go all spring break on us. But here's the thing: unlike most identity-crisis pubs in London, the Yucatan Bar doesn't try too hard to live up to its misleading moniker. There's not a sombrero or neon cactus in sight, and thank goodness for that. The interior reads like a love letter to traditional British pub architecture, with those ornate columns and etched glass panels that make you feel like you've stumbled onto a film set for a period drama. The dark wood servery running the length of the bar isn't trying to be anything other than what it is - a proper pub bar where your pint of Amstel (priced just high enough to make you think twice, but not high enough to make you leave) will be served without pretense. Speaking of drinks, don't come here expecting craft mezcal flights or artisanal tequila. The beer selection is resolutely mainstream, but sometimes that's exactly what you want. The Guinness, I'm told by locals who look like they've consumed enough of it to earn a PhD in stout studies, is consistently excellent. And isn't there something refreshing about a place that knows exactly what it is? The back area houses pool tables and a dartboard, because apparently some publicans still remember that pubs are supposed to be about more than just drinking while scrolling through Instagram. It's the kind of setup that makes you want to waste an entire Sunday afternoon pretending you're good at either game. For sports fans - and I say this with the weariness of someone who's survived too many overcrowded football screenings - the Yucatan Bar actually gets it right. Multiple screens strategically placed so you're not doing yoga poses to see the score, and an atmosphere that manages to be lively without descending into chaos. When there's a big match on, the place transforms into the kind of community hub that makes you remember why pubs matter. The service strikes that perfect London pub balance - friendly enough to make you feel welcome, but not so friendly that you suspect they're about to try selling you something. The staff actually seem to enjoy being there, which in today's hospitality climate is about as rare as finding a reasonable rent in Zone 2. Location-wise, it's a ten-minute wobble from Rectory Road Overground, planted firmly on the corner of Stoke Newington Road and Walford Road. The position makes it impossible to miss, which is convenient when you're meeting friends who still can't use Google Maps properly. Now, about the food - or rather, the lack thereof. Unless you count packets of crisps as fine dining, you won't be eating here. But in a neighborhood where every other establishment is trying to reinvent the wheel with their small plates menu, there's something almost noble about a pub that says, "We do drinks. That's it. Deal with it." The price point sits in that sweet spot where you can have a few rounds without having to remortgage your house, though it's not quite cheap enough to make it your daily. But then again, what is these days in London? For the skeptics wondering if the Yucatan Bar in London is worth their time, here's the reluctant truth: it is. Not because it's revolutionary or Instagram-worthy or even remotely connected to the Mexican peninsula it's named after. It's worth visiting because it's managed to maintain the essence of what makes a London pub great while surviving in an era where that's increasingly difficult to do. Go for the surprisingly decent Guinness, stay for the pool tables, and forget about the name. Sometimes the best nights out in London happen in places that aren't trying to be the next big thing. Just don't expect tacos. Or sombreros. Or really anything Yucatan-related. And honestly? It's better that way.

Just what Wexford needed - another pub claiming to be the authentic Irish experience. Billy Kelly's sits there on the corner, practically daring you to be underwhelmed. And sure, I walked in with my critic's notebook and professional skepticism, ready to pen another scathing review about mediocre pints and tired decor. But damn it all if Billy Kelly's hasn't wormed its way into my reluctantly softening heart. Let's address the elephant in the room - that recent renovation some regulars are grumbling about. Yes, the seating feels a bit primary school-ish at first glance. But after a few pints (which, I'm irritated to report, are poured with textbook perfection), you'll find yourself settling into an oddly comfortable rhythm. The layout actually works, creating intimate corners for conversation while maintaining that essential pub openness that lets you spot your mate arriving from across the room. The pool room out back is where Billy Kelly's really starts showing its hand. Multiple well-maintained tables, plus a proper snooker table that would make any serious player's eyes light up. I watched a friendly tournament unfold one evening, the crack of balls and goodnatured heckling providing exactly the sort of atmosphere that makes you cancel your next appointment and order another round. Speaking of rounds - the prices won't have you checking your bank balance after every pint. They're not giving it away, mind you, but in a world where some establishments seem to think they're serving liquid gold, Billy Kelly's keeps things refreshingly reasonable. The kind of place where you can buy a round for your friends without having to eat toast for the rest of the week. The beer garden deserves special mention, though I'm loathe to draw attention to it lest it become impossibly packed on sunny days (all three of them we get in Wexford). It's thoughtfully arranged, with enough coverage to shield you from the inevitable Irish drizzle while maintaining that crucial outdoor pub atmosphere. I've seen countless summer evenings stretch into night out there, the kind where strangers become friends and everyone somehow knows the words to songs they've never heard before. The staff, particularly Luke (who I suspect is actually some sort of hospitality android given his impossibly consistent cheerfulness), manage that delicate balance of attentiveness without hovering. They remember your usual after a visit or two, which is either impressive or mildly concerning depending on your perspective on your drinking habits. For sports fans (you poor, optimistic souls), the setup for matches is proper. Multiple screens strategically placed so you won't miss that crucial moment when you're at the bar, and the volume managed so you can actually hear the commentary without feeling like you're sitting in the commentator's lap. What truly sets Billy Kelly's apart in Wexford's pub landscape is its ability to be whatever you need it to be. Want a quiet afternoon pint with the paper? There's a corner for that. Looking for a lively evening of pool and banter? The back room beckons. Need somewhere to watch the match with people who actually understand the offside rule? Pull up a chair. The payment setup is modernized (they take cards, contactless, and yes, actual money for those still living in 1995), and there's paid street parking nearby, though after a few hours inside, you might want to consider a taxi anyway. Look, I didn't want to like Billy Kelly's. I really didn't. My job is much easier when I can tear places apart with witty criticism and clever comparisons to failed relationships. But like that one ex you can't quite get over, Billy Kelly's has something special. It's not pretentious, it's not trying to reinvent the wheel, it's just... right. So fine, Billy Kelly's Wexford, you win. You've earned your place as one of those rare pubs that actually deserves its reputation. Just don't let it go to your head - I'll be back to reassess, purely for professional reasons of course. Probably this weekend. Maybe sooner.

Just what London needs - another pub with delusions of grandeur. The Rising Sun in London initially struck me as yet another watering hole trying desperately to be all things to all people. Pool tables? Check. Karaoke nights? Obviously. The standard-issue setup had me rolling my eyes before I'd even crossed the threshold. But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart like a persistent ear worm you eventually catch yourself humming. While the exterior screams "generic London pub," the interior tells a different story - one that's refreshingly honest about what it is and isn't trying to be. Let's address the elephant in the room: the somewhat chaotic pricing structure. One minute you're paying £4.80 for a pint, the next it's £6, and the explanations for the difference are about as consistent as British weather. Yet somehow, this very inconsistency feels authentically London - a city where you might pay £15 for a cocktail in one postcode and find a pint for under a fiver in the next. The pool tables deserve special mention, and I can't believe I'm about to write this with genuine enthusiasm. They're actually... properly maintained. I know, shocking. In a city where most pub pool tables have more dips and bumps than a Victorian cobblestone street, finding tables that actually allow for skilled play feels like stumbling upon a unicorn wearing a bowler hat. The live music situation is where things get interesting. The karaoke lineup (Friday through Monday, because why follow conventional weekend patterns?) leans heavily toward Bollywood numbers. It's not what you'd expect from a traditional London pub, and that's precisely what makes it work. There's something gloriously unpretentious about a place that doesn't try to force-feed you the same tired playlist of British pub classics. The staff... well, they're a mixed bag. Some will treat you like long-lost family, while others might make you feel like you've just tracked mud across their freshly mopped floors. But isn't that just perfectly London? The city itself oscillates between warm embrace and cold shoulder, and The Rising Sun merely reflects its host city's bipolar personality. Speaking of personality, the pub's atmosphere manages to thread the needle between "proper boozer" and modern gathering spot. The payment options are thoroughly 21st century (they take everything from contactless to cards), yet the soul of the place remains defiantly old school. It's open until midnight most days, stretching to 2 AM on Fridays and Saturdays for those whose decision-making abilities deteriorate as the night progresses. For sports fans (you poor, optimistic souls), there's decent viewing setup. Though watching England's inevitable penalty shootout defeats might be less painful here than in more expensive establishments, if only because you'll have spent less on drowning your sorrows. The drinks selection sits comfortably in the middle range - not so cheap you'll question the source, not so expensive you'll need to remortgage your flat in Clapham. They serve beer (obviously), wine (adequately), and cocktails (bravely). The lack of pretension in their offerings is actually refreshing in a city where some bars expect you to appreciate the "notes of displaced woodland fairy tears" in their gin and tonics. Look, I didn't expect to end up defending The Rising Sun. It's the kind of London pub that shouldn't work on paper - a mishmash of elements that sounds like it was conceived by a committee trying to appeal to everyone. But much like that friend who's a bit rough around the edges but always comes through when you need them, this place has an undeniable charm. If you're in London and seeking a pub that offers a genuine slice of the city's evolving character - where Bollywood meets billiards, where the pricing is as unpredictable as the service, but where the overall experience somehow adds up to more than the sum of its parts - The Rising Sun might just be your spot. Just don't come expecting craft beer flights or artisanal bar snacks. Come for what it is: a surprisingly endearing London pub that's stubbornly doing its own thing. And god help me, I think I respect it for that.

The Graduate in London beckons from its corner of Greenwich like a familiar friend, its weathered façade telling stories of countless evenings spent in good company. What might seem unremarkable from the outside unfolds into a tapestry of warmth and welcome once you cross the threshold, where the soft amber glow of wall sconces creates pools of light that dance across polished wood surfaces. Inside, the pub breathes with the gentle rhythm of conversation and clinking glasses. The air carries that distinctive London pub perfume - hints of hops and heritage, mingled with the woody whispers of aged furnishings that have witnessed thousands of stories. Regulars cluster at the bar like old friends at a reunion, their easy laughter a soundtrack that makes even first-time visitors feel like they've stumbled into a gathering they were always meant to attend. The space flows naturally from the welcoming front bar area into more intimate nooks and crannies, each with its own character. The main bar stretches like an old ship's bow, its brass fixtures gleaming with care and constant use. Behind it, bottles catch the light like jewels, while well-maintained beer taps stand ready to dispense perfectly poured pints. The bartenders move with practiced ease, their presence both professional and warmly familiar - they're as much a part of The Graduate's soul as the wooden beams above. Deeper into the pub, two immaculately maintained pool tables command their own territory, their green baize glowing under dedicated lighting like private stages for friendly competition. At just a pound per game, they've become a catalyst for connection, where strangers become teammates and rivals become friends over the gentle click of balls and chalk-dusted cues. A dartboard area stands ready for those seeking to test their aim, the worn throwing line on the floor marking countless previous attempts at glory. The Graduate's jukebox deserves special mention - not just for its eclectic selection that spans decades and genres, but for how it serves as a democratic DJ, allowing each patron to add their musical chapter to the evening's anthology. Songs flow from classic rock to modern hits, creating an ever-evolving soundtrack that somehow always feels right for the moment. While the pub doesn't serve food, it excels in its primary purpose - providing the perfect setting for conversation and congregation. The drinks selection is thoughtfully curated, with well-kept ales and lagers that arrive in pristine glasses at temperatures that would make any beer enthusiast nod in approval. The wine list, while not extensive, offers reliable choices that satisfy without pretension. Modern conveniences blend seamlessly with traditional charm - contactless payment options coexist with time-honored hospitality, and the facilities are maintained with a care that speaks to the management's attention to detail. The Graduate manages that rare feat of being both a proper local's pub and a welcoming space for newcomers, whether they're stopping in for a swift half or settling in for an evening of pool and conversation. As evening deepens, the atmosphere shifts subtly, the lighting seems to dim just so, creating the kind of intimacy that encourages storytelling and laughter. Groups gather around tables that have hosted countless similar gatherings, while solo visitors find comfortable perches at the bar, often drawn into friendly conversation by the pub's natural social gravity. The Graduate stands as a testament to what a London pub should be - not a relic of the past, but a living, breathing space that honors tradition while embracing the present. In Greenwich's evolving landscape, it provides something increasingly precious: a genuine place for connection, where the simple pleasure of a well-kept pint and good company remains the highest currency. Step through The Graduate's doors, and you're not just entering a pub - you're becoming part of an ongoing story, one that's been written by generations of Londoners and continues to welcome new chapters. Whether you're seeking the quiet comfort of a midweek afternoon pint or the lively energy of a weekend evening, you'll find your place in this enduring corner of Greenwich life.

In the heart of Clane, the Newtown Inn Off Licence stands as a testament to the intimate charm that only small-town establishments can cultivate. Like a well-worn leather armchair that knows your shape, this modest storefront welcomes visitors with the kind of familiarity that makes even first-time customers feel like regulars. The warm glow from its windows spills onto the street, a beacon for those seeking both spirits and spirited conversation. Inside, wooden shelving lines the walls in neat formations, bottles catching and reflecting light like an artisan's collection of stained glass. The space may not be vast, but it's thoughtfully curated, each shelf telling its own story through carefully selected labels and vintages. At the Newtown Inn Off Licence in Clane, the compact dimensions become an advantage, creating an atmosphere where personal service isn't just possible – it's inevitable. The air carries the subtle complexity of oak and cork, mingling with the whispered conversations of customers seeking recommendations. Ray, the proprietor, moves through the space with the quiet confidence of someone who knows every bottle, every vintage, and every story behind them. His expertise flows as smoothly as the fine whiskeys he stocks, turning what could be simple transactions into enlightening exchanges about craft, tradition, and taste. Along the whiskey section, amber bottles stand like sentinels of tradition, their labels promising journeys through Ireland's rich distilling heritage. The craft beer selection, though selective, speaks to a contemporary palate, with local brews sharing space alongside international favorites. Each shelf feels like a carefully composed verse in a larger poem about the art of fine drinks. The shop's real magic lies in its ability to transform shopping into discovery. Whether you're a whiskey enthusiast exploring the nuanced world of single malts or a craft beer aficionado seeking your next favorite brew, the Newtown Inn Off Licence creates space for exploration and learning. The staff's willingness to special order items adds a personal touch that larger establishments often lack, making each visit feel like a collaborative adventure. Natural light filters through the front windows, casting gentle shadows that dance across bottles of wine arranged by region and vintage. The collection isn't overwhelming, but it's thoughtful – each bottle chosen with purpose, each selection representing a balance between familiar favorites and exciting discoveries. In the corner, a selection of local spirits tells the story of Ireland's resurging craft distillery movement. The payment counter serves as more than a transaction point; it's where stories are shared, recommendations are made, and relationships are built. Modern payment options seamlessly blend with old-world service, the card reader's soft beep a subtle reminder that tradition and technology can coexist gracefully. The staff's knowledge flows freely, whether you're seeking the perfect wine for a special dinner or exploring the world of craft spirits. Beyond the bottles and transactions, the Newtown Inn Off Licence in Clane serves as a community hub where expertise meets accessibility. The hum of conversation often fills the space – discussions about flavor profiles, food pairings, and local news weave together into a comfortable tapestry of small-town life. It's where celebrations are planned, gifts are carefully chosen, and ordinary evenings transform into memorable occasions. Here, in this modest space, the art of selection becomes a form of storytelling. Each bottle on these shelves has been chosen not just for what's inside, but for the moments it might create, the conversations it might spark, and the memories it might help forge. The Newtown Inn Off Licence understands that they're not just selling drinks; they're providing the liquid footnotes to life's celebrations, both grand and subtle. Step into the Newtown Inn Off Licence, where Clane's spirit of community meets the spirits of the world. Let the knowledgeable staff guide you through their carefully curated selection, and become part of a continuing story where every visit adds another page to the narrative of this beloved local establishment. Your perfect bottle – and perhaps your next favorite story – awaits.