Coach & Horses

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be a proper British establishment. The Coach & Horses in London had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold, preparing myself for yet another tourist trap masquerading as an authentic watering hole. You know the type: Union Jack bunting, pictures of the royal family, and fish and chips that would make your nan weep.

But damn it all if this place didn't make me eat my words along with some surprisingly decent pub grub.

Perhaps it was the lack of pretense that first cracked my cynical exterior. The Coach & Horses doesn't try to be anything more than what it is - a proper London pub that's somehow managed to survive the gastropub revolution without losing its soul. The interior has that lived-in feel that you can't fake, no matter how many interior designers you throw at the problem.

The staff, bless them, operate with that perfect balance of efficiency and couldn't-care-less attitude that marks a genuine London pub. They'll get you your pint when they're good and ready, but they'll do it with just enough charm that you can't quite bring yourself to be properly annoyed. It's an art form, really.

Let's talk about the fish and chips, since apparently that's what everyone bangs on about in their reviews. I wanted to hate it, I really did. But the batter achieves that mythical perfect crunch while protecting fish that's actually moist inside - a combination as rare as a politician keeping their promises. The portions are generous enough to make you question your life choices, which is exactly what proper pub food should do.

The beer selection, I grudgingly admit, is well-curated. They've managed to strike that delicate balance between craft options for the beard-stroking crowd and proper ales for those who just want a decent pint without a lecture on hop varieties. The wine list won't win any awards, but then again, if you're ordering wine at the Coach & Horses in London, you've rather missed the point.

What sets this place apart - and I can't believe I'm saying this - is the garden. In a city where outdoor space is treated like gold dust, they've somehow created an oasis that doesn't feel like you're sitting in a glorified parking lot. The staff actually seem to care about keeping it tidy, which is a miracle in itself considering the typical state of London pub gardens.

They take bookings, which in these trying times of spontaneity-killing planning requirements, is actually a blessing. The payment system has dragged itself into the 21st century, accepting everything from contactless to credit cards, though I suspect they'd accept golden guineas if you had them.

The price point sits squarely in the "well, it could be worse" category - not cheap enough to make you suspicious, not expensive enough to require a second mortgage. In London terms, that's practically a bargain, though I'm loathe to admit it.

Dog-friendly without becoming a canine circus, group-friendly without descending into chaos, and maintaining a atmosphere that somehow manages to feel authentic rather than manufactured - the Coach & Horses has achieved something rather special here. It's the kind of place where you can actually hear yourself think, until you decide thinking is overrated and order another round.

Look, I don't want to oversell it - this isn't going to revolutionize the London pub scene or make it onto any "World's Best" lists. But in a city increasingly populated by soulless chains and Instagram-bait establishments, the Coach & Horses stands as a testament to getting the basics right. And sometimes, that's exactly what you need.

If you find yourself in this corner of London, fighting against your better judgment, just go. Book a table, order a pint, get the fish and chips if you must, and prepare to be pleasantly surprised. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.