The Prince of Wales

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be the beating heart of its little corner of the city. The Prince of Wales in London sits smugly in Cleaver Square, wearing its centuries of history like a slightly threadbare badge of honor. I approached with the weary resignation of someone who's seen far too many "authentic British boozers" turned into Instagram backdrop factories.

Let's be clear - I wanted to hate it. The location is almost offensively picturesque, with its Georgian square and towering plane trees that seem calculated to make every tourist's social media feed. The building itself has that weathered charm that marketing teams spend fortunes trying to replicate in newer establishments. It's all a bit much, really.

But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my reluctant affections.

Perhaps it was the moment I realized the staff actually know their beers beyond the ability to point at the taps. The rotating selection of ales shows someone behind the scenes gives a damn, even if they'd never be gauche enough to brag about it. The pints are kept properly - a basic requirement so often botched elsewhere that it becomes noteworthy when done right.

The food menu (because apparently every London pub must now feed us) manages to thread the needle between proper pub grub and something you'd actually want to eat sober. The steak pie isn't trying to reinvent the wheel - it's just a really good wheel, if you'll pardon the tortured metaphor. The pork belly roast on Sundays has the kind of crackling that makes you forgive all sorts of other sins, not that there are many to forgive here.

The space itself works with an effortlessness that makes you suspicious. The interior has managed to avoid both the soulless modernization that plagues so many London pubs and the theatrical "ye olde" nonsense that makes you feel like an extra in a poorly researched period drama. It's just... comfortable. Like a well-worn leather armchair that's molded itself to you over the years.

Then there's the square itself. On sunny days, the pub spills out onto Cleaver Square with the kind of casual ownership that comes from decades of tradition rather than a recently approved outdoor seating license. Yes, it gets crowded when the weather's good - this is London, we lose our minds at the first hint of sunshine - but somehow it never feels like the Instagram circus that similar spaces have become.

The prices sit in that sweet spot where you can't quite complain but also aren't being actively robbed. You're paying for Zone 1 London, obviously, but at least you're getting what you pay for. The pints won't require a call to your financial advisor, and the food costs what proper ingredients and cooking should cost.

Dog-friendly without being a canine circus, group-friendly without turning into a rugby scrum, and blessed with staff who've mastered the art of being attentive without hovering - The Prince of Wales has achieved that rarest of things: balance. They take cards (including contactless, because even traditional pubs must bow to convenience eventually), though there's something satisfying about placing actual money on that aged wooden bar.

The regulars, who I initially assumed would be the usual collection of territorial old-timers and craft beer pontificators, turn out to be a surprisingly diverse bunch who seem to have achieved an unspoken agreement about sharing their prize local. They're protective of the place without being precious about it.

Look, I didn't want to like The Prince of Wales. London has enough "proper pubs" that turn out to be all sauce and no substance. But this corner of Kennington has something genuine, something that's survived countless trends and somehow emerged stronger for it. Whether you're a local seeking refuge from the day, a tourist wanting to experience a real London pub (yes, they still exist), or just someone in need of a properly kept pint and a meal that won't disappoint, you'll find your place here. Just don't tell too many people about it - it's already popular enough with those in the know. Though I suppose I'm not helping with that, am I?