Tarmon Free House London

Just what London needs - another pub masquerading as a "free house" while serving the same tepid lagers you can find at any corner boozer. The Tarmon Free House London sits defiantly on Caledonian Road, looking about as inviting as a dentist's waiting room from 1983. And yet, against my better judgment and professional cynicism, I found myself being oddly charmed by the place.

Let's address the elephant in the room - the interior design appears to have been conceived by someone whose aesthetic pinnacle was reached during the Thatcher administration. The peculiar U-shaped bar with its radiators (yes, actual radiators) attached to the front and perspex screens above looks like a cross between a post office counter and a 1970s sci-fi set designer's vision of the future. It shouldn't work. It really shouldn't. But somehow, in this corner of London, it does.

The prices at Tarmon Free House London are so surprisingly reasonable that I initially suspected my receipt had a printing error. When was the last time you paid £3.50 for a pint in Zone 1? I'll wait. The catch must be that they're serving something brewed in someone's bathtub, right? Wrong. While you won't find craft beer enthusiasts stroking their beards over small-batch IPAs here, the standard offerings are perfectly serviceable and - I can't believe I'm writing this - actually well-kept.

The jukebox deserves its own paragraph. In an era where most London pubs have surrendered to Spotify playlists curated by someone who thinks Ed Sheeran is edgy, this mechanical marvel dishes out everything from Glen Campbell to The Stylistics. It's like stepping into a time capsule where music actually had soul, and people weren't afraid to admit they liked it.

What's truly remarkable about this place - and I'm gritting my teeth as I type this - is its steadfast refusal to bow to gentrification. While nearby establishments rush to install Edison bulbs and serve sourdough everything, Tarmon Free House London remains gloriously, defiantly unchanged. The regulars playing dominoes (yes, actual dominoes, not some ironic board game café version) aren't here for the 'gram - they're here because this is their local, and has been for longer than most Instagram influencers have been alive.

The staff deserve special mention, if only because they've mastered something increasingly rare in London - genuine hospitality without pretense. The barmaids here won't give you a TED talk about the hop profile of your beer or try to upsell you to a premium mixer. Instead, you'll get warm service, quick pours, and the kind of authentic banter that can't be taught in hospitality training modules.

No food service might seem like a drawback, but it's actually refreshing not to see another pub trying to convince us they're a gastropub by serving microwave meals on slate tiles. This is a drinking establishment that knows exactly what it is - a proper boozer for proper drinking.

The location, a fifteen-minute walk from King's Cross St. Pancras, means you'll have to exert some effort to find it. Consider this a built-in sobriety test - if you can successfully navigate your way here, you're probably fit for another round. The outdoor seating isn't going to win any design awards, but it serves its purpose when the weather permits or when you need a break from the lively atmosphere inside.

For those wondering about modern conveniences, yes, they accept cards (including contactless), though using anything more sophisticated than cash feels somehow wrong here. There are plenty of screens for sports viewing, though they're positioned in a way that suggests function over interior design philosophy - how refreshingly honest.

Look, I didn't expect to be recommending Tarmon Free House London to anyone who wasn't specifically looking for a time machine to 1985. But here I am, suggesting you make the trek to this oddly endearing establishment. It's the kind of place that reminds you why London's pub culture became legendary in the first place - not because of carefully curated aesthetics or craft beer selections, but because of places like this that create genuine community spaces where pretension goes to die and good times come to live. Just don't tell too many people about it. The last thing we need is for it to become ironically popular.