Coppermill Pub

Just what London needs - another pub with "copper" in its name. The Coppermill Pub in London initially struck me as yet another tired attempt to cash in on the city's seemingly inexhaustible appetite for drinking establishments. I approached with the enthusiasm of someone getting a root canal, fully prepared to add it to my mental list of places to avoid.

And yet. Against my better judgment and professional cynicism, I found myself warming to the place like a forgotten pint left in the sun. Perhaps it was the distinct lack of pretension - a refreshing change in a city where even ordering a bag of crisps can feel like an audition for a West End show.

The first thing that caught my attention was the cleanliness - a feature so rare in London pubs that I initially assumed I'd wandered into an alternate dimension. The glasses sparkle with the kind of shine usually reserved for diamond commercials, and the toilets (yes, I'm going there) are maintained well enough that you won't need therapy after using them. It's the kind of basic competence that shouldn't be noteworthy, and yet here I am, noting it.

The Coppermill Pub has somehow managed to crack the seemingly impossible code of creating a genuine local atmosphere without descending into the realm of the grimly provincial. The regulars don't eye you like an unwanted tax audit when you walk in, which in London pub terms is practically a ticker-tape parade welcome.

Live music graces the space regularly, and unlike most pub performances that make you wish for sudden onset hearing loss, these are actually... good? I know, I'm as shocked as you are. The weekly pub quiz doesn't require a PhD in obscure 17th-century Hungarian literature to participate, though it will challenge you enough to make that third pint feel earned.

The beer selection deserves special mention, if only because they've managed to curate a list that satisfies both the "I only drink craft" crowd and those who think anything more complicated than lager is suspicious. The prices won't force you to remortgage your house either, which in London feels like a clerical error that someone should have caught by now.

For those who prefer their drinking with a side of vitamin D, there's outdoor seating that doesn't require sharing your personal space with every passing bus. The summer music festival they host outside is surprisingly well-organized for something that could easily devolve into chaos. It's as if someone actually put thought into this - a concept so revolutionary in the pub industry it almost makes me suspicious.

Dog owners, rejoice - your four-legged friends are welcome here, and unlike some establishments that merely tolerate pets, the staff actually seems pleased to see them. Though I'd appreciate it if someone could explain to the golden retriever regular that my shoelaces are not, in fact, sophisticated chew toys.

Sports fans haven't been forgotten either, with screens positioned so you can actually see them without developing a neck condition. The atmosphere during matches manages to hit that sweet spot between enthusiastic and hostile - passionate enough to feel exciting but not so intense that you need to wear body armor.

The payment system has been dragged into the 21st century, accepting everything from cash to contactless, which means you won't have to perform the traditional London pub dance of "Sorry, our card machine is down" followed by a desperate search for the nearest ATM.

Let me be clear - I wanted to dislike the Coppermill Pub. I arrived armed with a notebook full of potential criticisms and a heart hardened by years of mediocre London pubs. Instead, I found myself becoming one of those irritating people who actually enjoys their local. The kind who knows the staff's names and has a "usual" order. I've become everything I once mocked, and I'm not even sorry.

If you must venture out for a pint in London (and let's face it, in this city, you must), you could do far worse than the Coppermill Pub. In fact - and it pains me physically to write this - you probably couldn't do much better. Go there before it becomes so popular that we all have to pretend we knew about it first.