Best Rooftop Seating Pubs

Stop everything you're doing right now because The Carpenters Arms in London is about to become your new favorite spot in the city. No, seriously - I'm talking about the kind of place that makes you text your friends at midnight saying "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!" This isn't just another London pub; this is where ordinary nights turn into stories you'll be telling for years. First things first - let me paint you a picture of pure pub perfection. Imagine walking into a space that feels like it's been giving out good vibes since before you were born, but with none of that stuffy old-man-pub energy. The Carpenters Arms has that magical quality where it somehow feels both classic London and totally now at the same time. Like if your cool aunt opened a pub and actually knew what she was doing. You know those places that just FEEL right the moment you walk in? That's this spot. The atmosphere hits that sweet spot between laid-back and lively, where you can actually hear your friends' gossip without having to do that awkward lean-in-and-shout dance. And speaking of friends - bring them ALL. This place handles groups like a dream, whether you're rolling deep with your whole squad or just meeting your work bestie for a cheeky pint. Let's talk about the real star of the show here - THE FOOD. Oh. My. Days. Their fish and chips? *chef's kiss* We're talking proper crispy batter that shatters like your ex's promises, but in a good way. And the Sunday roast? It's the kind of meal that makes you want to start a religion dedicated to Yorkshire puddings. Even their "picky bits" (as the locals call them) are addictive enough to start fights over the last piece. But wait - it gets better. The Carpenters Arms isn't just serving up your standard pub fare. They've got proper vegetarian options that aren't just sad salads (praise be!), and their desserts are worth saving room for (even though you definitely won't have room, but order one anyway). The drinks selection? *happy crying emoji* Whether you're in for a perfectly pulled pint, a glass of wine that makes you feel fancy, or cocktails that make you forget all about that work presentation tomorrow - they've got you covered. And yes, they serve coffee too, for those "I swear I'm switching to water after this one" moments. Here's some insider intel that'll make you look like a proper local: They take reservations (praise the pub gods!), which means no more awkward hovering around tables giving people the "are you leaving soon?" eyes. They're dog-friendly too, so you can bring your four-legged friend along (and use them as an excuse to chat up that cute regular). The staff here? They're the kind of people who remember your usual after just two visits and actually seem genuinely happy about it. Special shoutout to Rachel the manager, who runs this place like a well-oiled machine even when it's heaving. And if you get Charles behind the bar? You're in for a treat - the man's got banter that could make a statue crack up. Don't even get me started on the rooftop situation. When the weather plays nice (yes, it happens in London occasionally), it's absolute scenes up there. Views for days and vibes that'll make your Instagram followers weep with jealousy. Look, I'm just going to say it: The Carpenters Arms is what would happen if your dream London pub had a baby with your favorite restaurant, and then that baby grew up and decided to become the coolest spot in town. It's right in that sweet spot where the prices won't make your bank account cry, but the quality makes you feel like you're living your best London life. So here's the deal - whether you're planning a big night out, a casual catch-up, or just need a place where the food's proper and the drinks are flowing, The Carpenters Arms is your spot. Get yourself to this little corner of London excellence before everyone else discovers it and you have to start booking weeks in advance. Trust me, your future self will thank you for this one!

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be a cut above the rest. The Old Fountain near Old Street station had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold. A "proper pub with proper food," they say. Right. Because we haven't heard that one before in this city of endless gastropub pretenders. But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart like some kind of beer-soaked earworm. The Old Fountain in London's perpetually trying-too-hard Tech City manages to pull off that rarest of feats - authenticity without artifice. And believe me, I wanted to hate it. Let's start with the beer selection, shall we? While every other establishment in EC1 is falling over itself to stock the latest craft brewing experiment involving mango-infused quinoa or whatever, the Old Fountain maintains a rotating cast of actually drinkable cask ales. Four hand pumps offering selections that don't require a dictionary to pronounce. Revolutionary concept, that. The rooftop terrace nearly had me reaching for my reviewer's cliche bingo card. But here's the thing - it's actually pleasant up there. No Instagram-optimized fairy lights or try-hard botanical installations. Just honest-to-goodness outdoor seating with umbrellas that seem to exist for the radical purpose of, you know, providing shade. I approached the Sunday roast with the weary resignation of someone who's suffered through countless dry Yorkshire puddings and tepid gravy boats. Yet here I sat, confronted with a plate that made me question my hard-earned skepticism. The pork belly was rendered to that precise point between succulent and structured, the crackling shattering with satisfying defiance. The Yorkshire pudding - and I can't believe I'm writing this - actually tasted like it was made by someone who understands the art form rather than a frozen food factory. The gravy deserves its own paragraph. There. I gave it one. Because sometimes less is more, and this gravy knows exactly what it is - a proper, rich enhancement rather than a flood of brown mediocrity. The staff, surprisingly, don't seem to have received the memo about affected aloofness being the required attitude in London pubs. They're actually... helpful? And appear to know their products? I found myself becoming increasingly annoyed at having nothing to be annoyed about. The pricing sits in that sweet spot where you can't quite complain but aren't being openly robbed. Yes, you'll pay more than your local Wetherspoons, but then again, you'll also get food that wasn't reheated in a microwave by someone whose culinary training consisted of pushing buttons. Dog-friendly without being a canine circus, group-friendly without descending into chaos, and taking bookings without requiring a PhD in advance planning - it's as if someone actually thought about what makes a pub work. The horror. Location-wise, it's a two-minute stumble from Old Street station, which means it should be overrun with the worst of London's tech bros and marketing mavens. Somehow, through what I can only assume is some sort of dark magic, it maintains a balanced crowd that doesn't make you want to flee immediately. For those keeping score of modern conveniences, yes, they take cards, contactless, and probably Bitcoin (okay, not Bitcoin, but you get the idea). There's takeout available for those who prefer to eat their roast in shame at home, though why you'd deny yourself the full experience is beyond me. Look, I didn't want to like the Old Fountain. I really didn't. London has enough "good pubs" that turn out to be all style and no substance. But this place? This infuriating gem near Old Street? It's the real deal. And I hate that I have to tell you that. Go there, have a pint, order the roast, and sit on the roof terrace. Just don't blame me when it becomes your new favorite pub in London. I tried to be cynical, I really did. But sometimes, just sometimes, a place deserves its reputation. Damn it.

The Culpeper in London is what happens when a centuries-old pub gets a modern glow-up without losing its soul. Perched on the corner of Commercial Street and Culpeper Street like it owns the place (which, technically, it does), this East End gem has mastered the art of being three things at once: a proper London boozer, a rather clever restaurant, and a boutique hotel that makes you feel like you've discovered London's best-kept secret. Let's talk about that rooftop first, because honestly, it's criminal how many Londoners still don't know about it. While the city's other elevated venues often feel like they're trying too hard (we've all been to that place with the Instagram swing), The Culpeper's rooftop garden feels like stumbling into your eccentric aunt's hidden paradise. They actually grow herbs up here that end up in your cocktails – and yes, that garnish in your gin and tonic probably had a shorter commute than you did. The main pub area downstairs strikes that perfect balance between "nice enough to impress your parents" and "comfortable enough to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon." The original Victorian features have been preserved with the kind of care usually reserved for crown jewels, but they've managed to avoid the stuffiness that often comes with historical preservation. Instead, the space feels lived-in and loved, with worn wooden floors that have absorbed countless stories and conversations over the years. Moving up to the first-floor restaurant, things get a bit posher without crossing into pretentious territory. The menu changes more often than London weather, but that's because they're serious about seasonal British cooking. We're talking about the kind of food that makes you understand why British cuisine has moved well beyond the old jokes about boiled everything. The Sunday roast here isn't just a meal; it's a religious experience that's converted many a skeptic. The Yorkshire puddings rise higher than London rent prices, and the roast potatoes have the kind of crunch that makes other roast potatoes feel inadequate. The rooms upstairs are where The Culpeper really shows off its boutique hotel credentials. Each one feels like it was decorated by someone who actually understands what humans want in a hotel room – proper reading lights, power outlets where you need them (not behind the heavy wooden wardrobe), and bathrooms that don't require an engineering degree to figure out how the shower works. The beds are the kind that make you want to cancel your morning meetings and order breakfast in bed – speaking of which, their Turkish eggs should be classified as a controlled substance, they're that addictive. What really sets The Culpeper apart from London's countless other pub-restaurant-hotel hybrids is the staff. They've somehow managed to find people who are simultaneously professional and genuinely friendly – a combination about as rare as an affordable flat in Zone 1. They remember your name, your usual order, and somehow make you feel like you're a regular even if it's your first visit. The pricing sits comfortably in the "treat yourself without calling your bank manager" category. You're not going to need to sell a kidney to enjoy dinner here, but it's definitely a step up from your average pub grub prices. That said, the value for money is spot-on, especially considering the quality of both food and service. Here's an insider tip: book a table for an early dinner (around 6 PM), then migrate upstairs to the rooftop for sundowners. If you time it right, you'll catch that magical moment when the City's glass towers catch the evening light, and for a few minutes, even the most hardened Londoner has to admit this city is pretty spectacular. The Culpeper stands as a testament to what happens when someone takes a historic London pub and thoughtfully brings it into the 21st century. It's the kind of place that makes you feel like you're in on a secret, even though it's been written up in every London guide worth its salt. So next time you're in East London and fancy experiencing a slice of the city that manages to be both historic and thoroughly modern, The Culpeper's got your name on it. Just don't blame me if you end up staying longer than planned – it happens to the best of us.