The Pavilion

Just what London needs - another pub calling itself The Pavilion. I stumbled into this one expecting the usual tepid beer and sticky floors that seem to plague every corner of our fair city. But here's the thing about The Pavilion in London: it's annoyingly, frustratingly, worth your time.

Look, I'm as shocked as you are. When I first pushed open that door, I was armed with my usual cynicism and a notebook ready to be filled with deliciously scathing observations. Instead, I found myself reluctantly falling for what might be one of London's most surprisingly authentic boozers.

Let's talk about Tina, the landlady, because she's the kind of publican you thought went extinct with the dodo. She runs this place with the precision of a military operation and the warmth of your favorite aunt - assuming your aunt could also throw out a rowdy patron without breaking a sweat. It's a rare talent, that balance of welcome and warning.

The Pavilion has that increasingly endangered species of atmosphere that can't be manufactured by corporate pub chains with their identical menus and clipboard-wielding managers. There's an open fire that actually works (I know, in London, shocking), shelves of books that appear to have been actually read rather than ordered by the meter for decoration, and a pool table that hasn't been removed to make way for more Instagram-friendly seating.

The Guinness? Perfect. And I don't use that word lightly. I've spent years critiquing pints across this city, and finding a properly poured Guinness in London is like finding a taxi driver who's pleased to take you south of the river. But here we are. The beer selection in general hits that sweet spot between "we know what we're doing" and "we're not trying to be a craft beer museum."

Now, let's address the pricing because it's almost suspicious. In a city where a pint can cost as much as a small car, The Pavilion's prices feel like a clerical error that nobody's noticed yet. Don't make a fuss about it - just quietly appreciate that there are still places in London where you can have a couple of rounds without having to remortgage your house.

The crowd is refreshingly diverse, minus the usual suspects who treat pubs like their personal office for loud Zoom calls. You'll find locals who've been coming here since before Instagram existed, young professionals who haven't yet surrendered to the allure of £15 cocktails, and even the occasional tourist who's stumbled upon it by accident and can't believe their luck.

Yes, you might get a gentle nudge from the bar staff if you're nursing a single pint for hours - but honestly, in this economic climate, can you blame them? Besides, the prices are reasonable enough that you can afford another without having to check your banking app first.

They show sports here too, but - and this is crucial - without letting it dominate the atmosphere. It's a delicate balance that most pubs get wrong, turning into either libraries with televisions or screaming matches with beer. The Pavilion somehow manages to make it work, like everything else they do, with an understated competence that's increasingly rare in London's pub scene.

The live music nights are another surprise - and not the kind that makes you want to flee to the nearest exit. They've somehow managed to book acts that actually know how to read a room, which in pub terms is like finding a unicorn that knows how to pull a proper pint.

Here's the thing about The Pavilion in London: it's the kind of place that makes you want to keep it secret, but also tell everyone you know. It's a pub that feels like it's been here forever and hopefully will be, assuming we all don't ruin it by praising it too much.

So yes, go to The Pavilion. Take your friends, take your visiting relatives, take that person you've been meaning to have a proper conversation with. Just don't all go at once, and for heaven's sake, don't mention you read about it here. Let's pretend you just happened upon it, like the rest of us reluctant converts who now can't imagine our London without it.