The Florist Arms

Just what London needs - another "local pub" trying to convince us it's not just another dingy watering hole. The Florist Arms in Bethnal Green had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold. A Victorian-era pub with a flower-based namesake? How precious. But like a particularly stubborn hangover, this place refused to let me maintain my carefully cultivated cynicism.

Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, it's housed in an 1871 building that still sports its original Watney's roundel, complete with a stag motif that practically screams "Instagram me." I wanted to hate the red and black flowery wallpaper, I really did. But somehow, paired with the bare wooden floors and eclectic lighting, it manages to avoid the usual pitfalls of trying-too-hard vintage charm.

The U-shaped bar is where things start getting interesting, and by interesting, I mean they've actually put thought into their beer selection instead of just stocking whatever mega-brewery offerings pay the highest margins. The rotating cast of local London brews alongside carefully chosen imports suggests someone behind the bar actually gives a damn about what they're serving. Their cask ales, when properly kept (which, surprisingly, they are), make you remember why real ale became a thing in the first place.

Now, about those pizzas. Stone-baked offerings in a pub usually set off my warning bells - it's typically a lazy attempt to tick the "food offering" box without having to hire a proper chef. But here's where The Florist Arms forced me to eat my words (along with several slices of genuinely good pizza). The crispy-based creations emerging from their oven would make many dedicated pizzerias nervous. At £10 for a Margherita, it's the kind of value that makes you suspicious - until you taste it.

The space itself is a master class in how to make a single room work harder than a politician's PR team. Somehow they've managed to create distinct areas that feel separate without actually being separate. It's like the TARDIS of pubs - seemingly bigger on the inside, yet intimate enough to avoid that cavernous feel that kills so many London boozers.

What really gets me - and I'm annoyed at having to admit this - is the atmosphere. It's that elusive quality that corporate pub chains spend millions trying to manufacture and invariably fail to achieve. The Florist Arms has it in spades, whether you're there for a quiet afternoon pint or during one of their livelier evening sessions. The staff actually seem to enjoy being there, which in London's hospitality scene is rarer than a reasonable rent price.

They've even managed to make sports-watching tolerable, with screens that apparently know when to be on and when to shut up - a concept that seems to elude 90% of London pubs. The outdoor seating, while not exactly the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, provides a decent enough spot for those who still think drinking al fresco in London's weather is a good idea.

Dog-friendly, card-accepting (including contactless, welcome to the 21st century), and with a team that understands the difference between being attentive and hovering like an anxious parent - they've ticked boxes I didn't even know needed ticking.

Located a stone's throw from Bethnal Green station, The Florist Arms is annoyingly easy to get to, which removes my last excuse for not returning. It's the kind of place that makes you question your commitment to being a pub cynic. Whether you're in the area for work, live locally, or are willing to venture east of Liverpool Street for something genuinely worth your time, you'll find yourself reluctantly adding this to your mental list of "pubs I actually like."

Go on, then. Visit The Florist Arms. Just don't blame me when you find yourself becoming one of those irritating people who won't shut up about their favorite local. I've already become one, much to my chagrin.