British Oak

Just what London needs - another "traditional" pub claiming to be the authentic local's choice. The British Oak in Blackheath had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed its threshold, with its imposing three-story Victorian architecture practically screaming "I'm more special than your average boozer." Let me guess: another soulless attempt to cash in on nostalgia while serving mediocre pints to unsuspecting tourists?

Well, damn it all to hell. I hate when I'm wrong.

The moment you step through the door of the British Oak, something shifts. It's subtle - like the way sunlight hits the interwar wood paneling in the saloon bar, or how the cast-iron balcony creates shadow plays across the front veranda. This isn't manufactured charm; it's the kind of genuine character that only 165 years of continuous operation can bestow.

The public bar, with its L-shaped counter and well-worn dartboard, feels lived-in rather than curated. It's the sort of space where conversations flow as freely as the remarkably well-kept beer selection. And speaking of beer - while I arrived prepared to mock their "craft offerings" (because heaven forbid a London pub doesn't try to be trendy), I found myself pleasantly surprised by a lineup that bridges the gap between traditional cask ales and contemporary craft options without pretension.

Let's talk about those Pieminister pies because I was ready to dismiss them as another lazy food solution. £11 for pie, mash, and gravy? In this economy? But then I watched one arrive at a neighboring table, the gravy performing what can only be described as a sensual dance with the mash, and my cynicism began to crack. When I finally ordered one (purely for research purposes, mind you), I found myself making involuntary sounds of appreciation that I'll deny if anyone brings them up.

The dual personality of the British Oak works surprisingly well - the public bar maintains its proper boozer credentials while the saloon bar offers a more refined experience without crossing into gastropub territory. The proper pub carpet (you know the type) somehow doesn't feel dated, and the jukebox selection suggests someone actually put thought into it rather than just downloading "Now That's What I Call Pub Classics."

Outside spaces - often an afterthought in London pubs - are handled with unexpected grace. The front paved area lets you watch the world go by from under that distinctive veranda, while the rear beer garden provides a genuine retreat from the city's chaos. Both manage to avoid the dreaded "smoking area with pretensions" vibe that plagues so many London pub gardens.

The price point sits squarely in the realm of "I can't quite complain but I'll try anyway." Yes, you're paying London prices, but at least you're getting London quality. The beer stays under £6 for most pints, which in 2024 feels like some sort of minor miracle.

What really gets me - and I'm gritting my teeth admitting this - is the atmosphere. Tuesday nights feature folk musicians who actually know what they're doing. The quiz nights draw genuine enthusiasm rather than bored couples staring at their phones. And the landlord? Character isn't quite the word. The kind of publican who remembers faces, manages the delicate balance of welcome and wit, and keeps the regulars entertained without alienating newcomers.

Ten minutes from Westcombe Park station, the British Oak stands as a reminder of what London pubs can be when they're not trying too hard to be London pubs. Its location in Blackheath places it perfectly for those seeking refuge from the more tourist-heavy areas of Southeast London.

Look, I don't want to like the British Oak. It goes against my nature to praise anything this earnestly traditional. But if you're going to be in this part of London and you're seeking a pub that delivers everything it promises without showboating about it, you'd be a fool not to stop in. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.