More on the Artillery Arms on Bunhill Row. One of the great pleasures of drinking there is that the graveyard you walk through to get there is a Wesleyan graveyard (there’s a statue of John Wesley near there and he had his headquarters there or thereabouts). The presence of the Artillery Arms cocking a boozy snook at the old pledge-taking abstainer himself is a (not very) guilty pleasure.
What’s more, it serves the full range of Fullers’ Ales. I know we’re not a CAMRA-orientated blog but a pint of Chiswick is an alarmingly difficult to find, especially one kept this well.
And more again, and this one’s crucial, it’s open on a Saturday afternoon. If you ever find yourself in this area in the dead-City zone which lies between Friday night and Monday lunchtime, you resign yourself to drinking in a Wetherspoons at best. To find a genuinely friendly and comfortable boozer which you’d go to by choice is amazing and joyous. The sunlight streaming in through the stained glass and dappling my pint and my crossword… mmm, lovely.
Which leads me to a question. When on one’s own in the pub, what is the most acceptable pastime? Crossword? Novel? Newspaper? Which is most likely to cause offence? Which is least likely to attract the attentions of unwanted interlopers?