The Kenley Hotel

Just what London needs - another pub masquerading as a hotel, or is it the other way around? The Kenley Hotel sits there, stubbornly existing, like that one friend who never quite got the memo that times have changed. But here's the thing about The Kenley Hotel in London: it's somehow managed to become endearing, like a slightly disheveled uncle who tells the best stories at family gatherings.

Let's address the elephant in the room - or rather, the German Shepherds. Yes, you read that correctly. The Kenley Hotel comes with its own four-legged security detail, which initially had me reaching for my phone to update my will. But these gentle giants are about as threatening as a British summer - mostly harmless and surprisingly pleasant when you give them a chance.

The dark wood bar, with its impossibly ancient mirrors that have probably witnessed more London history than the Tower itself, creates an atmosphere that marketing teams at chain pubs spend millions trying to replicate. They fail, of course, because you can't manufacture the kind of authentic wear and tear that comes from decades of elbows polishing wood and pint glasses leaving their circular signatures.

Speaking of pints, let's talk about the beer selection. If you're expecting a craft beer paradise with quinoa-infused IPAs and beard-stroking ale sommeliers, you've wandered into the wrong establishment. Instead, you'll find a carefully curated (read: limited) selection of lagers and ales that actually taste like, well, beer. Amstel, Fosters, Kronenburg, and Tiger lead the lager brigade, while Guinness and John Smiths hold down the fort for those who prefer their beverages with a bit more gravity.

The outdoor seating area exists in that perfectly British way - functional rather than fancy, ready for those three days of summer when Londoners collectively decide to brave the elements. It's not the Ritz's garden terrace, but then again, you won't have to remortgage your house for a round of drinks either.

Now, about that "hotel" part of The Kenley Hotel - it's about as much a hotel as I am a morning person. This is a pub, pure and simple, wearing its historical name like a slightly crooked crown. And thank goodness for that. In a city where every other establishment is trying to reinvent itself as a "gastropub experience journey," The Kenley Hotel remains steadfastly, unapologetically, just a pub.

The regulars - a species deserving of their own David Attenborough documentary - have created an ecosystem that somehow manages to be both exclusive and welcoming. They'll eye you suspiciously for exactly 3.5 minutes before either ignoring you completely or adopting you into their fold. There's no middle ground, and that's perfectly fine.

For those concerned about modern conveniences, yes, they accept cards, contactless payments, and probably organs as legal tender. The bathrooms are present and functional, which in London pub terms practically qualifies as luxury accommodations. They've even managed to keep the sticky tables quota to an acceptable minimum - a feat that deserves recognition in the pub preservation society, if such a thing exists.

The real charm of The Kenley Hotel lies in its stubborn refusal to be anything other than what it is. In a London increasingly populated by identical chain pubs and "authentic" establishments about as genuine as a three-pound note, this place wears its imperfections like battle scars. The slightly worn carpets, the bar that's seen better decades, the eclectic mix of regulars - it all comes together in a symphony of genuine pubiness that's becoming increasingly rare in the capital.

Look, I'm not saying The Kenley Hotel is going to win any beauty contests or make it onto London's hot new venues list. But in a city that's constantly chasing the next big thing, there's something remarkably refreshing about a place that's simply content being itself. If you're in London and find yourself craving an authentic pub experience - dogs, characters, slightly mysterious smells and all - you could do far worse than spending an evening here. Just don't expect a room for the night, and for heaven's sake, pet the German Shepherds. They've earned their place as the pub's most charming staff members.