The Moon & Stars - JD Wetherspoon

Ah yes, The Moon & Stars in London - another Wetherspoons gracing our fair city with its particular brand of budget boozing and questionable carpeting. I'll admit, I approached this establishment in North London with the same enthusiasm I reserve for dental appointments, yet found myself lingering longer than my cynical heart intended.

Let's address the elephant in the room - it's a Spoons. If you're expecting artisanal cocktails crafted by mixologists with handlebar mustaches and suspenders, you've wandered into the wrong establishment. But here's the thing about The Moon & Stars that keeps drawing me back, despite my better judgment: it works. It just bloody works.

The space itself is deceptively vast, with high ceilings that somehow manage to make even the tackiest architectural features look almost intentional. Unlike many of its siblings in the Wetherspoons empire, this London outpost actually benefits from what I can only assume was an accidental commitment to proper spacing between tables. You won't need to perform interpretive dance moves just to reach the bar, which in Spoons terms is practically luxury living.

Speaking of the bar, let's talk about those prices. In a city where a pint often costs more than a small car payment, The Moon & Stars delivers the kind of pricing that makes you double-check your bill in disbelief. The ale selection is surprisingly decent - I've found myself muttering "well, actually..." more times than I care to admit while sampling their rotating craft offerings. Their Pumphouse ale, a regular fixture, goes down easier than my pride in admitting I enjoy it.

The food? Look, we're not in Michelin territory here, but that's rather the point, isn't it? The kitchen at The Moon & Stars London manages to consistently produce plates that hover comfortably above "edible" and occasionally venture into "quite good actually" territory. Their breakfast, served at hours when most establishments are still contemplating opening their doors, has saved more hangovers than I'm comfortable documenting in print.

What truly sets this place apart from other Wetherspoons in London is the staff. They've mastered that delicate balance between efficiency and friendliness that makes you forget you're in a chain pub. They're quick, they're competent, and they somehow maintain their sanity during the Saturday night rush when the place transforms into a cross between a Roman feast and a sixth-form disco.

The clientele is an anthropologist's dream - a living, breathing cross-section of London life. You'll find students stretching their loans over £2.41 pints, office workers seeking refuge from their inbox, and locals who've made the corner table their second home. It's democratic drinking at its finest.

For families (yes, families), they've actually managed to create an environment where bringing children doesn't feel like a social faux pas. The menu caters to small humans with the same straightforward approach they apply to everything else, and the spacious layout means your little ones won't immediately knock over someone's pint - always a bonus.

The outdoor seating area, while not exactly the Riviera, provides a decent enough space for those brave souls who insist on alfresco drinking in London's perpetually optimistic weather. It's particularly useful when the interior reaches its capacity during major sporting events, which the venue screens with reliable regularity.

Here's the truly irritating part - I find myself recommending The Moon & Stars to people. Me, a self-proclaimed food and drink snob, directing people to a Wetherspoons. But in a city where pretension often outweighs practicality, this place offers something increasingly rare: a genuine pub experience that won't require a remortgage.

So yes, The Moon & Stars in London has earned its place in the city's vast drinking landscape. It's not trying to reinvent the wheel - it's just offering a reliable, affordable space where you can enjoy a pint, grab a meal, and maybe, just maybe, have a better time than your sophisticated sensibilities would care to admit. Go on, give it a try. Just don't tell anyone I sent you.