The Tichenham Inn

Just what London needed - another pub with delusions of grandeur. The Tichenham Inn sits there in all its reformed-Wetherspoons glory, beckoning punters with promises of affordable pints and pub grub that won't immediately send you running for the nearest Boots pharmacy. I approached with the enthusiasm of a cat being dragged to a bath.

But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my reluctantly softening heart. The Tichenham Inn in London has pulled off that rarest of feats - transforming from a soulless chain outlet into something that actually resembles a proper local. And trust me, I wanted to hate it. I really, really did.

Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, it's cheap. Suspiciously cheap. The kind of prices that make you wonder if they've accidentally posted last decade's menu. But unlike most budget-friendly London pubs where the only thing worse than the food is the service, The Tichenham manages to deliver without triggering an immediate call to your solicitor.

The space itself has been cleverly divided into bar and restaurant sections, though "cleverly" might be giving them too much credit - it's more like they stuck a partition in the middle and called it a day. Yet somehow, it works. The bar area maintains that essential pub atmosphere where you can watch football without feeling like you're in a sports bar designed by someone whose only reference point is American movies.

Speaking of sports, they've managed to install enough screens to satisfy the most desperate match-day crowd without turning the place into Times Square. It's a delicate balance, and I'm annoyed to report they've actually nailed it. The outdoor seating area, while not exactly the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, provides a perfectly serviceable spot for those brave souls willing to battle London's perpetually disappointing weather.

Now, about the food. Let's be clear - we're not talking Michelin-star cuisine here. But for what you're paying, it's surprisingly... edible. More than edible, actually, though it pains me to admit it. The kitchen seems to be finding its feet after recent changes, and while there are still some consistency issues (their idea of medium-rare occasionally ventures into territory better suited for resurrection), they're clearly trying. The burger, when they don't cremate it, is actually worth ordering. And the lamb chops, when they remember to cook them, show genuine promise.

The drinks selection deserves mention, if only because they've somehow managed to stock a decent range of beers without charging the GDP of a small nation for them. The wine list won't impress your sommelier friends (bold of me to assume you have sommelier friends), but it gets the job done. And they make a proper cocktail - not just spirit-and-mixer combinations that would embarrass a freshman's house party.

The staff, bless them, seem genuinely interested in making your experience pleasant, which is disconcerting in London. They actually listen to feedback - a concept so foreign to most establishments that it might as well be written in ancient Sumerian. The service can be slow during peak times, but show me a London pub where that isn't true and I'll show you a unicorn riding a dragon.

What really sets The Tichenham Inn apart from London's endless parade of mediocre boozers is its stubborn refusal to be as terrible as it has every right to be. The payment system accepts everything short of cryptocurrency (though give them time), the bathrooms are actually maintained, and they've even managed to create an atmosphere where both sports fans and casual diners can coexist without civil war breaking out.

For context, The Tichenham Inn sits in that sweet spot between "grab a quick pint" casual and "actually wouldn't be embarrassed to bring your parents here" presentable. It's the kind of place that makes you question your own snobbery, which is deeply uncomfortable for those of us who've spent years carefully cultivating it.

Look, I didn't want to like The Tichenham Inn. I wanted to write a scathing review about another soulless London pub trying to be something it's not. But here we are - me, recommending you actually give it a try. Book a table, grab a pint, watch the match, order some food. Just don't blame me when you find yourself becoming a regular. I'm already questioning all my life choices.