The Builders Arms

Just what London needs - another pub with "Arms" in its name. The Builders Arms in London's Teddington neighborhood initially struck me as yet another formulaic attempt to cash in on British drinking culture. How wrong I was, and how irritatingly pleased I am to admit it.

Let's address the elephant in the room: yes, The Builders Arms London has undergone a renovation that could have easily veered into the dreaded territory of "Instagram-worthy" modernization that plagues so many historic pubs. Instead, they've somehow managed to thread the needle between contemporary comfort and authentic charm. The dim lighting actually serves a purpose beyond masking the inevitable wear and tear - it creates an atmosphere that makes everyone look slightly more attractive and interesting than they probably are.

The dartboard setup is particularly noteworthy, if only because it represents everything this place gets right about balancing old and new. The vintage scoring machine is the kind of detail that makes you wonder if they actually care or just have a very clever interior designer. After several visits (purely for research purposes, of course), I'm begrudgingly convinced it's the former.

I'll never understand why some London pubs seem to think having competent staff is optional, but The Builders Arms has apparently missed that memo. The bar team actually appears to know what they're doing, even when the place is heaving with post-work crowds. One particularly busy evening, I watched a solo bartender handle the rush with the kind of efficiency that makes you question your own career choices.

The beer selection deserves mention, if only because they've managed to avoid both the "three generic lagers and Guinness" trap and the equally tiresome "we only serve craft ales with punny names" approach. Though I must point out - and this pains me as much as it will pain them - they really need to step up their cider game. Strongbow in 2025? Come on.

Their screens for sports viewing are positioned with unusual thoughtfulness, visible without dominating the space like some unfortunate American sports bar wannabe. It's actually possible to watch rugby without feeling like you're in a Wetherspoons, which is no small feat.

The garden area - and I use that term loosely, as London pub gardens go - is a pleasant surprise. It's not trying to be Kew Gardens, thank heavens, but rather offers a civilized space for fresh air and conversation. The fact that it doesn't feel like you're sitting in a converted parking lot is an achievement in itself.

Perhaps most shocking is the maintenance of the facilities. The restrooms - often the true measure of a pub's soul - are clean enough to make you question whether you're still in London. They've gone for that modern-but-not-aggressively-so design that suggests someone actually thought about the guest experience beyond the bottom of their pint glass.

The overall atmosphere hits that sweet spot between "local" and "destination" that so many venues aim for and miss. During quieter moments, you could actually have a proper conversation without shouting, while the weekend buzz never quite reaches the fever pitch of desperation that characterizes so many London watering holes.

For those keeping score at home: yes, The Builders Arms London has managed to create something rather special here, much to my chagrin. It's the kind of place that makes you wonder if you should keep it to yourself or share the secret. Given that I'm writing this, obviously I've chosen the latter, though I may regret it next time I'm trying to find a seat.

If you must insist on drinking somewhere in Teddington (and let's face it, sometimes we must), you could do far worse than The Builders Arms. In fact - and I can't believe I'm saying this - you probably couldn't do much better. Just don't all go at once. Some of us have made it our local, and we'd prefer not to queue for our pints.