Last Orders Through the Ages

A pint-sized journey through 500 years of London's liquid history

London · 15 stops · 7.8 km · ~2.7 h · Generated March 2026

1. 1. The George Inn

   The George Inn, 77 Borough High Street, Southwark, London SE1 1NH

   Welcome to The George Inn... London's Last surviving galleried coaching inn. Take a moment. Look up at those wooden galleries, those leaning timber frames. Do you notice how the building seems to sway and ripple? That's not your first pint talking... that's over three centuries of timber slowly warping with age.

   The earliest records of this pub date back to fifteen forty-two. But back then it was called Saint George and the Dragon. The words "Saint" and "Dragon" both disappeared in Cromwellian times... because the Puritans, though they tolerated taverns, Abhorred saints as savouring of Popery. So the Dragon was slain, and the Saint was banished. Only "The George" survived.

   Now, the building you see today is Not that original pub. The inn was badly damaged by fire in sixteen sixty-nine and then Destroyed in the great fire that engulfed much of South-wark in sixteen seventy-six. Not the famous Great Fire of London... this was South-wark's own inferno, ten years later. It was rebuilt, on the same footprint, in sixteen seventy-seven.

   And here's what most people don't realize. What you're looking at is only One Third of the original structure. The building originally surrounded three sides of the courtyard. The Great Northern Railway Company demolished the north and east wings in eighteen eighty-nine to make way for warehouses. The railways that killed the coaching trade literally Ate this building.

   Now... did Shakespeare really drink here? While there's no definitive proof, during his lifetime South-wark was London's theatre district... home to The Globe, The Rose, and other venues within walking distance of The George. Before the rise of purpose-built theatres, plays were often performed in the open courtyards of galleried inns. So while we can't prove it... the legend is entirely plausible.

   One person who Definitely drank here was Charles Dickens. The Middle Bar was the Coffee Room, which was frequented by Dickens. He immortalised it in his novel Little Dorrit as the place where the title character's brother wrote his begging letters.

   And here's a detail most visitors miss entirely. Winston Churchill himself visited the George and brought his own port... although the landlady, Agnes Murray, charged him four shillings and sixpence corkage! That woman was Not intimidated by power.

   After Agnes Murray died in nineteen thirty-four, the inn passed to Harold and Leslie Staples, enthusiastic Dickens fans known as the "Cheeryble Brothers." When the structure became unstable, the railway company gifted The George to the National Trust. That was nineteen thirty-seven. And that gift is the Only reason you're standing here today.

   So raise a glass of real ale... this pub is listed in the Campaign for Real Ale's National Inventory of Historic Pub Interiors. You're drinking in a Grade One listed building, surrounded by the ghosts of pilgrims, playwrights, and passengers who once rattled off from this very courtyard to Canterbury, Dover, and Brighton. Cheers.

2. 2. Borough Market & The Anchor Bankside

   The Anchor, 34 Park Street, Bankside, London SE1 9EF

   Take a deep breath... and a deep sip. You're standing outside The Anchor on Bank-side, and beneath your feet lies over Eight Hundred years of drinking history. A tavern has stood on this very spot for more than eight centuries. But this wasn't just any alehouse. The Anchor started life as the brewery tap room for the Anchor Brewery, first established in sixteen sixteen. That means every pint pulled here came straight from the source... the freshest beer in all of South-wark.

   Now, picture this. It's September, sixteen sixty-six. London is on Fire. The Great Fire is devouring everything north of the Thames. And right here, safe on the south bank, a man named Samuel Pepys takes a seat. The famous diarist observed the Great Fire from this very spot, writing that he took refuge in "a little alehouse on Bank-side" and watched the fire grow. Now here's a detail most people get wrong... Several guidebooks claim the Anchor was rebuilt after the Great Fire destroyed it, but that was Impossible, because the fire never reached the southern side of the Thames. The pub survived. London didn't.

   But the real beer story here runs even deeper. Throughout its history, this building has served as a tavern, a brothel, a chapel, a brewery, and a ship's chandler's. And it was a favorite haunt of river pirates and smugglers. During repairs in the early nineteenth century, workers removed a massive oak beam and discovered ingeniously contrived hiding places... probably used for storing stolen goods and contraband.

   Now, the Anchor Brewery behind this pub became one of the great powerhouses of English beer. Henry Thrale managed the brewery in the eighteenth century, becoming a prominent figure in London's brewing trade. And his closest friend? None other than Doctor Samuel John-son, the man who wrote the first English dictionary. Johnson had his Own room at the brewery, and his favorite chair was kept in the boardroom for some time after his death. When Thrale died in seventeen eighty-one, Johnson described the brewery as "the potentiality of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice."

   And he wasn't exaggerating! Robert Bar-clay of the banking family bought it, went into partnership with the chief clerk John Per-kins, and increased output to two hundred sixty thousand barrels a year by eighteen oh nine, making it the Largest brewery in the world. The brewery became famous for its Russian Imperial Stout, which was widely sold across the continent.

   The great Anchor Brewery was finally demolished in nineteen eighty-one. But the tap room... the pub... survived. Just as it survived the Great Fire, the Blitz, and centuries of change. So if you step inside for a pint, know this... you're drinking where Shakespeare's actors drank, where Pepys watched a city burn, where pirates hid their loot, and where the world's largest brewery once thundered away just behind the back wall.

3. 3. The Blackfriar

   The Black Friar, 174 Queen Victoria Street, London EC4V 4EG

   Take a good look at this extraordinary wedge-shaped building in front of you. The Black Friar is a Grade Two star listed public house on Queen Victoria Street in Blackfriars, London. And it holds a story that stretches back Seven hundred years... to a time when monks brewed beer on this very ground.

   This Art Nouveau masterpiece was built in nineteen oh five on the site of a former Dominican friary, which existed here from twelve seventy-nine to fifteen thirty-nine. The Dominicans wore long black mantles, which earned them the name... the Black Friars. And here's where it gets interesting for beer lovers. When King Edward the First funded the construction of this friary in twelve eighty, the complex included a dormitory, infirmary, chapel... and a Brewery. That's right. Monks were among the first commercial brewers in medieval Europe. Studies even mention beer consumption of up to Five litres a day for each monk in some monasteries. Not bad for men of God!

   But this site witnessed something far more dramatic than brewing. On the thirty-first of May, fifteen twenty-nine, a special legatine court opened right here at Blackfriars to hear the case for an annulment of Henry the Eighth's marriage to Catherine of Aragon, presided over by Cardinal Campeggio and Cardinal Wolsey. That failed divorce led Henry to break with Rome entirely... which triggered the Dissolution of the Monasteries. The friars were expelled. The brewery fell silent.

   Fast forward to eighteen seventy-five, when this pub was built. But what makes it truly special is a remodelling from about nineteen oh five by the then publican, Alfred Pettitt, and his architect H. Fuller-Clark. Both Fuller-Clark and artist Henry Poole were committed to the Arts and Crafts Movement, embracing high quality materials and hand craftsmanship. They filled every surface with jolly fat monks... eating, drinking, singing carols, catching eels. Copper reliefs show friars collecting fish for meatless Friday, singing carols over the magnificent inglenook fireplace.

   Now look for the cheeky details. The ceiling displays silhouettes of monks' heads portraying the Seven Deadly Sins... but one is Missing. Which one? Lust! Well, this IS a pub after all.

   The most remarkable part is the barrel-vaulted area at the back, built under the adjacent railway between nineteen seventeen and twenty-one. Its dining area is clad in matched Italian marble topped with a Romanesque ceiling in gold leaf.

   And we nearly lost All of this. The building was nearly demolished during a phase of redevelopment in the nineteen sixties, until it was saved by a campaign spearheaded by poet Sir John Betjeman. Betjeman was a passionate defender of Victorian architecture who also helped save Saint Pancras railway station from demolition. Thank goodness for poets who love pubs.

   One last gem. The lettering on the outside of this pub directly inspired the title typeface in the opening credits of Blackadder Two. So next time you watch Rowan Atkinson scheming his way through Elizabethan England... you'll know where that look came from. Now... step inside, order a proper cask ale, and raise a glass to the monks who brewed here first.

4. 4. The Punch Tavern

   Punch Tavern, 99 Fleet Street, London EC4Y 1DE

   Welcome to ninety nine Fleet Street... and one of London's most Magnificent survivors of the Victorian drinking age. This is the Punch Tavern.

   Now, before you even step inside, take a look at that entrance corridor. It's unlike anything else in a London pub — extensive tiling, a mosaic floor, etched mirrors, and on either side of the inner doors, large canvas paintings of a very sinister-looking Mister and Missus Punch. It feels like walking into a jewel box... a jewel box that serves pints.

   This pub wasn't always called the Punch Tavern. The original name was the Crown and Sugar Loaf. So what happened? Well, in eighteen forty one, something extraordinary was brewing on Fleet Street — and it wasn't beer. A writer named Henry Mayhew and a wood-engraver called Ebenezer Landells founded a satirical magazine called Punch, on an initial investment of just twenty five pounds. It was jointly edited by Mayhew and a man named Mark Lemon. And here's where the drinking comes in... The name "Punch" referred to the puppet Mister Punch, but Also to a joke about editor Lemon — that "punch is nothing without lemon."

   And those writers and illustrators? Much of the brilliance and satire that filled the magazine's pages was actually formulated when its staff were half-cut down the pub! The weekly staff meeting took place over dinner, and the topic for each edition's cartoon would be determined over cigars and brandy. Because the magazine's staff met here so regularly, the pub owner changed its name to Punch in their honor.

   Now look around at the architecture. The building you see today was rebuilt in two phases by architects Saville and Martin — first the Fleet Street frontage in eighteen ninety four to ninety five, then the Bride Lane side in eighteen ninety six to ninety seven. They designed it in the style of a gin palace — originally a lavish bar selling gin, later a term for any ornate Victorian pub. Notice the barrel-vaulted skylight, the acanthus frieze, the ceiling divided into panels by scrolls and garlands.

   And that magazine? Punch was responsible for giving us the modern use of the word "cartoon" to mean a comic drawing. They humorously borrowed the term from the preliminary sketches being displayed for Parliament's new murals, and the popularity of Punch cartoons made the word stick. Its early readers included Charlotte Brontë, Emily Dickinson, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.

   The magazine finally ceased publication in two thousand and two... but this pub remains. True to its gin palace roots, it now stocks over ninety different gins. So if you step inside, raise a glass to the drunken geniuses who changed British satire forever — one pint at a time.

5. 5. The Old Bell Tavern

   Old Bell Tavern, 95 Fleet Street, London EC4Y 1DH

   Take a look at number ninety five Fleet Street... and step into one of London's most extraordinary drinking stories.

   This is a Grade two listed building dating back to the seventeenth century, and it is claimed that it was built by Sir Christopher Wren for the use of his masons. Think about that for a moment. England's greatest architect... designing a Pub.

   Here's the story. After the Great Fire of sixteen sixty six utterly destroyed Saint Bride's Church, warping its medieval glass and melting its bells, the new vicar, Paul Boston, courageously kept worship going in a makeshift tabernacle in the churchyard. Then in sixteen seventy one, the churchwardens took Mister Christopher Wren to dinner at the Globe Tavern to convince him to rebuild. It worked. And Wren, ever the practical genius, knew his masons needed somewhere to eat, sleep, and... drink. The speed of progress on Saint Bride's was partly ascribed to the fact that the workmen had a hostel right next door... the Old Bell Tavern.

   And here's the clever part. During the day, Wren would pay his stonemasons to toil away at the church. But at night... he'd get all his money back behind the bar!

   The back door of the pub opens directly onto the wall of Saint Bride's Church... very handy for the builders. You can still walk through that rear exit today.

   But the history of This very spot goes back even further than Wren. This site has been linked to the origins of printing in England since around fifteen hundred, when Wynkyn de Worde, apprentice to William Caxton and known as the Father of Fleet Street, operated one of the earliest printing presses right here. He was a prolific printer, bringing over eight hundred works to the public across a whole variety of topics. So before this was a pub... it was a Printing House.

   And speaking of Saint Bride's next door... you know the tiered wedding cake? Legend has it that towards the end of the eighteenth century, an apprentice baker named William Rich, who worked at nearby three Ludgate Hill, fell in love with his boss's daughter. To impress her, he made an elaborate cake for his wedding. Looking around for inspiration, he caught sight of the nearby steeple... and the rest is history. His bride, Susannah, is buried at Saint Bride's, and the church still has a dress that once belonged to her in their archive.

   By the eighteenth century, as Fleet Street solidified its role as the epicenter of British journalism, the Old Bell became a key gathering spot for compositors, editors, and reporters. The pub's proximity to Saint Bride's Church, often called the Journalists' Church, reinforced its status as a social hub. The giant printing presses were housed in cavernous basements, some going down three floors deep, and the whole street would Vibrate when the presses ran in the evening. Imagine standing here with your pint... feeling the floor hum beneath your feet.

   So raise a glass. This tavern has been licensed for more than three hundred years. From stonemasons to printers, from ink-stained journalists to you... the Old Bell keeps pouring.

6. 6. Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese

   Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, 145 Fleet Street, London EC4A 2BU

   Look at this narrow alleyway off Fleet Street. You'd walk right past it if you didn't know what was hiding here. But step through that low doorway... and you enter one of the most storied drinking houses in all of London.

   There has been a pub on this very spot since fifteen thirty-eight — back when Henry the Eighth was three wives down. That original pub was called the Horn. But like so much of London, it was burnt down by the Great Fire and rebuilt in sixteen sixty-seven.

   Now, what makes this place special for any beer lover is what lies Beneath your feet. The vaulted cellars are thought to belong to a thirteenth-century Carmelite Monastery which once occupied the site. That's right... monks were storing provisions in these tunnels three hundred years before anyone pulled a pint here. It was the monastery's guesthouse that was perhaps the first incarnation of the pub as somewhere to host visitors.

   Today, the pub is owned and operated by the Samuel Smith Old Brewery — an independent brewery based in Tadcaster, North Yorkshire, established in seventeen fifty-eight. And here's a detail real ale fans will love: the Cask Old Brewery Bitter is served from oak casks right in the pub cellar. Samuel Smith's is one of the few remaining British breweries to employ a traditional Yorkshire Square fermentation system constructed of Welsh slate, and their brewing water is drawn from the original eighty-five-foot well, sunk when the site was established. Even the fermentation yeast has been used continuously since approximately nineteen hundred — one of the oldest unchanged strains in the country!

   But let me tell you about the pub's most Legendary resident. For around forty years, this place was home to an African grey parrot named Polly, who lived in the bar area, shouted out patrons' favourite drink orders when they arrived, and was famous for expletive-laden outbursts and mimicking the popping sound of champagne corks. According to legend, on Armistice Day nineteen eighteen, Polly imitated so many corks popping that he passed out. When customers asked about the Kaiser during the war... well, Polly's reply was decidedly unprintable. And when asked "What will you have?"... the parrot's reply was always "Scotch."

   Even Charlie Chaplin visited in nineteen twenty-one, tried the famous toasted cheese, and talked to Polly — and Polly talked right back.

   When Polly died in nineteen twenty-six, around two hundred newspapers across the world wrote obituaries, and the passing was announced on the radio. Polly was taxidermied and placed under a glass dome overlooking the bar, where it remains to this day. So look for that little grey figure when you step inside.

   And one more thing for the literary pub crawlers among you. The Rhymers' Club, a group of London-based poets founded in eighteen ninety by W. B. Yeats and Ernest Rhys, met right here at the Cheshire Cheese. Dickens wrote scenes set in this very pub. Even Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot dined here — in her nineteen twenty-four story, enjoying what she called "the excellent steak and kidney pudding of the establishment."

   Now go on in... explore those labyrinthine rooms, order yourself a pint of Old Brewery Bitter from the oak cask, and raise a glass to Polly. Cheers!

7. 7. The Old Bank of England

   Old Bank of England, 194 Fleet Street, London EC4A 2LT

   Look up at those soaring ceilings and enormous chandeliers. You're standing in what might be the most jaw-droppingly grand pub in all of London... but not a single pint was poured here for over a century.

   This magnificent building was constructed in eighteen eighty-six by Sir Arthur Blom-field in a grand Italianate style, with three massive chandeliers and an extraordinarily detailed plaster ceiling. And here's a delicious detail about the architect... the young Thomas Hardy — yes, The Thomas Hardy — once worked as an assistant in Blom-field's practice. Blom-field was the ninth son of the Anglican Bishop of London — a church man's boy who built a temple to money.

   From eighteen eighty-eight to nineteen seventy-five, this was the Law Courts branch of the Bank of England. Barristers and judges from the Royal Courts of Justice next door would stride in here not for a pint... but to deposit their fees. And what did those vaults beneath your feet once hold? Gold bullion... and according to legend, even the Crown Jewels for a period. Today, those underground vaults that once housed the nation's treasure are used for storing beer, wine, and spirits. From gold bars to beer barrels — now That is a career change.

   After the bank closed, the building remained empty and unused for nearly two decades before it was refurbished and restored as a pub in nineteen ninety-four.

   Now, the beer itself tells a story. This pub is operated by Mcmullen's Brewery, and that's a name worth knowing. Mcmullen's is a regional brewery founded in eighteen twenty-seven in Hertford, England. It was started by Peter Mcmullen, the son of an Irish nurseryman. And get this — members of the Sixth generation of the Mcmullen family are still involved with the business. Their signature brew, A K, is a mild beer that's been brewed in Hertford since eighteen thirty-three — nearly two hundred years of continuous production. If you order one here, you're drinking living history.

   But let's talk about what lies Beneath this building... because the tunnels under your feet carry a far darker legend. This location sits famously directly between Sweeney Todd's barber shop and Mrs. Lov-ett's pie shop! According to the story, Todd's barber shop sat at one eighty-six Fleet Street, next to Saint Dun-stan's church, connected to Mrs. Lov-ett's pie shop in nearby Bell Yard by an underground passage. And the Old Bank of England? It sits Right on top of that route.

   Now, most historians agree that Sweeney Todd is a fictional character. He first appeared in a penny dreadful serial called The String of Pearls, published in eighteen forty-six to eighteen forty-seven. Claims that he was a historical person are disputed strongly by scholars, although possible legendary prototypes exist. But real or not... when you descend to the lower bar and feel the age of those walls around you, it's hard not to wonder what those tunnels have seen.

   So raise a glass of Mcmullen's finest. You're drinking ale from one of Britain's oldest family breweries, in a room that once held the nation's gold, above tunnels tied to London's most infamous legend. Cheers!

8. 8. The Seven Stars

   The Seven Stars, 53 Carey Street, Holborn, London WC2A 2JB

9. 9. Ye Olde Mitre

   Ye Olde Mitre, 1 Ely Court, Hatton Garden, London EC1N 6SJ

   Look around you. Can you spot the entrance? Don't worry if you can't... Ye Olde Mitre is tucked down a narrow alleyway between numbers eight and nine Hatton Garden. It's one of the hardest pubs to find in all of London, and that's entirely by design. Because this place was never Meant for you and me.

   The first tavern on this site was built by Thomas Goodrich, Bishop of Ely, for his servants in fifteen forty-six. Think about that. This was a private drinking house for the household staff of one of England's most powerful clergymen... tucked inside the grounds of a magnificent palace surrounded by lush gardens, vineyards, and the finest strawberry beds in London. In Shakespeare's Richard the Third, the Duke of Gloucester actually asks the Bishop of Ely to send for some of those famous strawberries.

   But here's where the story gets truly strange. The Bishops of Ely thought their palace was too beautiful to be part of London, and declared it part of Cambridgeshire. And incredibly... Ye Olde Mitre's licensing laws only stopped being administered by Cambridgeshire in the nineteen sixties! There's even an urban legend that criminals could flee here and be safe from the Metropolitan Police... because technically, this wasn't their jurisdiction.

   Now. Step inside and look to the right of the entrance. You can view the remains of a cherry tree that Queen Elizabeth the First and Lord Chancellor Sir Christopher Hatton allegedly danced around when it was used as a Maypole. And Who was this Hatton? In fifteen sixty-one, Hatton played the part of Master of the Game at a masque at the Inner Temple, and his dancing quickly won him the Queen's favour and the nickname "The Dancing Chancellor." Elizabeth was so taken with him that she wrote a famous letter to the Bishop of Ely demanding he hand over his garden-land to Hatton. It read simply: "Proud Prelate. You know what you were before I made you what you are now. If you do not immediately comply with my request, I will unfrock you, by God." The bishop surrendered. And that is why Hatton Garden, now the heart of London's diamond trade, bears his name to this day.

   One more dark secret about this ground. On the seventeenth of October, fifteen forty-six... the very Same year this pub was built... James Butler, ninth Earl of Ormond, was invited to dine at Ely Palace. He was poisoned, along with his steward and sixteen of his household. He died eleven days later. The murder was never solved.

   Finding this vibrant, historic pub is truly a test of pub-going initiative... but now that you've passed the test, you'll find a fine selection of craft beer and real ales, including guest ales and real scrumpy cider. It's run by Fuller's, and the beer here is poured with the kind of care that four and a half centuries of tradition demands. Cheers.

10. 10. Cittie of Yorke

    Cittie of Yorke, 22 High Holborn, London WC1V 6BN

    Look up at this building. An unassuming exterior, adorned with a swinging copper sign and a mock-Tudor facade. It looks like something from the age of Henry the Eighth. But here's the first twist in our story... almost none of it is genuinely old.

    Although the current building is a rebuilding of the nineteen twenties, the buildings on this site have been pubs since fourteen thirty. That's right... nearly six hundred years of continuous drinking on this Exact spot. The pub that stood here in sixteen sixty six survived the Great Fire of London, because the fire stopped by Holborn Circus just down the road.

    In sixteen ninety five, the pub was rebuilt and named the Queen's Head. In the next century, a garden was planted in front, and the name changed to the Queen's Head Coffee House. That's right... for a time, this wasn't a beer house at all.

    A wine merchant named George Hennekey purchased the pub in eighteen thirty one and rebuilt it again. And it was Hennekey who created the Famous long bar... the one that still stretches before you inside. The pub claims to have the longest bar in London, flanked on one wall by giant vats, each holding up to eleven hundred gallons.

    Now, about those Enormous barrels looming over the bar. Were they ever actually full? It's unclear if these thousand gallon barrels ever really held any beer. But here's a story that might answer that question. During the Blitz on London in World War Two, the landlord of the day Drained the port from the large vats above the main bar... out into the gutter, for fear they might come down and cause more damage than a bomb! Imagine... hundreds of gallons of fine port, washing down High Holborn.

    And if you step inside, look for the row of private wooden cubicles on the opposite wall. These enclosed snugs almost resemble confession boxes. They allowed lawyers from the nearby Inns of Court a bit of extra privacy for confidential conversations with their clients.

    One more gem. In nineteen fifty one, the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas penned an impromptu drinking ditty here, a forty four line ode, a humorous tribute to the bar's warm ales and eclectic patrons, featuring punning character names like Mister Watts-Ewers and Mister Alf Measure. It wasn't discovered until twenty fourteen, when a former union leader found it among papers belonging to his late parents-in-law who knew Thomas.

    Today, the pub is owned and operated by Samuel Smith Old Brewery... an independent brewery based in Tadcaster, North Yorkshire, established in seventeen fifty eight. It claims to be Yorkshire's oldest brewery. It's one of the few remaining British breweries to employ a traditional nineteenth century Yorkshire Square fermentation system built of Welsh slate. And their brewing water is drawn from the Original eighty five foot well, sunk when the site was established.

    So when you order your pint of Old Brewery Bitter in there... you're drinking history. From a well sunk in seventeen fifty eight, through slate squares older than most nations, served across what may be the longest bar in London... in a spot where people have been raising glasses since before Columbus set sail.

11. 11. The Princess Louise

    Princess Louise, 208-209 High Holborn, London WC1V 7BW

    Look at you, standing in front of one of the most jaw-dropping pub interiors in all of London. This is The Princess Louise... and the story behind these walls is as rich as the mahogany that lines them.

    Built in eighteen seventy-two, the building you see today houses a spectacularly preserved eighteen ninety-one Victorian interior, with wood panelling and a series of booths around an island bar. But here's an important detail many guides get wrong. Although it's often described as a former gin palace, this was always a pub for ale drinkers. Gin palaces were really a phenomenon of the early to mid nineteenth century, and gin had become much less popular by the time this interior was created. The Style is gin palace... mirrors, sparkle, grandeur... but the drink was Beer.

    Now, step inside and look up. Back in eighteen seventy-two, the owners, W. and H. H. Whale, applied to expand their Holborn pub at number two oh nine next door into number two oh eight. It's from that scheme that the florid iron columns and swirly-patterned ceiling date. Then in the eighteen nineties, Henry Whale, son of H. H., did what countless other pub owners were doing and went for an ambitious upgrade.

    See those etched glass screens dividing the space into private compartments? Those are called snob screens. They allowed more upper-class drinkers to gaze at the working class section without being seen. Victorian class anxiety... made into Furniture.

    But here's the twist. In the early twentieth century, the screens were ripped out, and so things remained until two thousand and seven, when the current owners, Yorkshire brewers Samuel Smith's, under architect Michael Drain, did a magnificent thing... they put them back. The glass in the restored screens is modelled on the design of the one remaining original door panel.

    And the pub's namesake? Princess Louise, born eighteen forty-eight, was the fourth daughter of Queen Victoria. Described by her mother as "difficile," she led a racy lifestyle. There were several affairs with men from the world of art, and notoriously, her mentor in sculpture, Sir Joseph Boehm, died in her arms in eighteen ninety. Rumour had it he died rather... compromisingly... in his studio with the Princess present. She was also the first royal to be cremated, at Golders Green Cemetery.

    Now, the pub today is owned by Samuel Smith's Old Brewery, one of the few remaining British breweries to employ a traditional nineteenth-century Yorkshire Square fermentation system constructed of Welsh slate. Their brewing water is drawn from the original eighty-five-foot well, sunk when the site was established in seventeen fifty-eight, and the fermentation yeast has been used continuously since approximately nineteen hundred.

    And this is where it gets wonderfully eccentric. Samuel Smith's is known for being traditionally run, still using dray horses for some beer deliveries, and banning music, television, and mobile devices in its bars. So yes... put that phone away! The brewery has a zero-tolerance policy on profanity too, presenting what they call an "uncompromisingly Victorian" aesthetic.

    Before you order, one more secret. The gents' toilets, boasting marble urinals, also date back to the nineteenth century. They are of sufficient historical and architectural interest that they have their own formal listing and are therefore protected from modification or destruction. They're a piece of lavatorial magnificence only exceeded in a pub by the Philharmonic in Liverpool.

    Go inside, order a pint of Old Brewery Bitter, slide into one of those snob screen booths... and raise a glass to a scandalous princess and the Whale family who built her palace.

12. 12. The Lamb & Flag

    Lamb and Flag, 33 Rose Street, Covent Garden, London WC2E 9EB

    Take a look down this narrow alley... and welcome to one of the most blood-soaked drinking spots in all of London. This is the Lamb and Flag.

    The very first mention of a pub on this site dates back to seventeen seventy-two, when it was known as The Coopers Arms. In eighteen thirty-three, the tavern was renamed the Lamb and Flag... the name that still proudly shows above its doors today.

    But the building itself? It's one of the very few left in central London with a timber frame, dating possibly as early as sixteen eighty-eight. You're standing beside something genuinely rare... a structure that survived while the city reinvented itself around it.

    Now, about that name. Why would a pub be called the Lamb and Flag? It's derived from the Bible verse John one twenty-nine, where John the Baptist sees Jesus and exclaims, "Behold the Lamb of God." The symbol was used by the Knights Templar and is also that of the Middle Temple. Crusader imagery... on a pub sign. Only in England.

    But before it got that pious new name, locals knew this place by a far darker one... The Bucket of Blood. A room above the pub was used as a venue for bare-knuckle prize fights, a brutal form of entertainment that packed them in every week. It wasn't until the Marquess of Queensberry Rules were introduced in eighteen sixty-seven that boxing began to move away from the chaotic bare-knuckle contests of earlier decades.

    And then there's the story that earned this alley a permanent place in literary history. Picture this. December the eighteenth, sixteen seventy-nine. Just before eight in the evening. The poet John Dryden, England's first Poet Laureate, was walking home from Wills Coffee House, a popular gathering spot for London's literary wits. His poem "An Essay upon Satire" had savagely mocked King Charles the Second, his mistresses, and most pointedly... the Earl of Rochester. Rochester was not amused. Dryden was attacked right here, in Rose Alley, behind the Lamb and Flag, by thugs hired by the Earl of Rochester.

    He survived... barely. Dryden offered fifty pounds for the identity of his attackers, placing the reward in the London Gazette, and even offered a Royal Pardon if one of them would confess. No one Ever claimed the reward.

    Today, if you head upstairs, you'll find the Dryden Room, named after that very poet whose satirical writing made him so many enemies. And if you're looking for what's on tap... Fuller's has owned the pub since twenty thirteen and ran a sympathetic renovation. It remains a traditional pub without music, muzak, or games machines. Just good cask ale and three centuries of stories soaked into the walls.

13. 13. The Salisbury

    The Salisbury, 90 St Martin's Lane, London WC2N 4AP

    Take a look at this glittering corner of Saint Martin's Lane... and welcome to The Salisbury. What you're about to step into is not just a pub. It is a Time Capsule... one of the finest surviving examples of London's great Victorian palace pubs.

    This site was first licensed all the way back in sixteen ninety-four, when it was called the Coach and Horses. The five floors above the pub were used as a coaching inn for weary travellers to stay and rest. But here's where the story gets wild.

    In the mid-eighteen hundreds, the pub's landlord was a man named Ben Caunt... a bare-knuckle boxing champion known as the "Torkard Giant." He stood six feet two inches tall and weighed eighteen stone. Right here, or very near this spot, the Regency boxing crowd met and arranged fights for their various champions. And here's a detail that will stop you mid-sip... it is said that Big Ben, the famous bell at the Palace of Westminster, may actually be named after This pub's landlord — though the origin of the name is contested with Sir Benjamin Hall. Caunt's prosperous pub life ended in tragedy when the premises were destroyed in a fire that killed two of his children.

    The building you see today was rebuilt and refitted in spectacular style around eighteen ninety-eight, making it one of London's great turn-of-the-century palace pubs. The site was leased from the Marquis of Salisbury... hence the present name. Now, look closely at the etched glass around you. Can you spot a pair of letters... S S? That motif appears because the pub was originally called the "Salisbury Stores." And those stunning bronze figures? Art Nouveau nymphs holding long-stemmed flowers with light bulbs blooming from the center... said to be original fittings from eighteen ninety-nine.

    Now, run your hand along the bar counter. Notice where the bar top changes from marble to hardwood? That's a clue to how the pub was originally divided into separate drinking spaces — a classic Victorian arrangement where different social classes drank in different compartments.

    And the celebrity stories! Those brass tables in front of the main bar seating appeared in the famous black and white photograph of Marianne Faithfull by Gered Mankowitz, taken right here for her album "Come My Way" — and that photo now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery. Richard Burton loved The Salisbury dearly. While filming "Where Eagles Dare" at Mgm in nineteen sixty-eight, he regularly visited... and on a couple of occasions, brought Clint Eastwood along.

    Camra has recognized this interior as "an historic pub interior of national importance." So when you order your cask ale here... you're drinking in one of the last authentic cathedrals of the great Victorian pub boom. Cheers.

14. 14. The French House

    The French House, 49 Dean Street, Soho, London W1D 5BG

    Look up at that modest blue awning... and the Tricolor flag fluttering above number forty-nine Dean Street. This is The French House — quite possibly the most eccentric pub in all of London. And for a tour about beer history, this place holds one of the most Delightful contradictions in the business.

    This pub was opened by a German national named Christian Schmitt in eighteen ninety-one, and he called it the York Minster. Nothing French about it at all. When World War One broke out, Schmitt's widow sold the pub to a Belgian — Victor Berlemont — who had moved to London in nineteen hundred. He was the First foreigner to become landlord of a British pub, and with his French accent and extravagant moustache, he lent the place a distinctly Gallic air. So... a German-founded, Belgian-run pub, in an English city, that everyone called "The French."

    Now, the beer rule. Why on earth does this pub only serve beer in half-pints? Legend has it that back in the nineteen twenties, there was a massive punch-up between a group of French sailors, where pint glasses were smashed over each other's heads — and the no-pints rule was introduced as a result. Whether that's true or not... the tradition has stuck for a Century. Beer is famously served only in halves — a tradition that was mercifully resumed after a brief pandemic-related switch to full pints. That's right — even Covid couldn't kill the half-pint rule for long.

    And here's a fun twist: this place sells more Ricard — the French aniseed liqueur — than anywhere else in Britain. In fact, wine actually outsells beer here altogether. For a pub on a beer tour... that's rather magnificent.

    But the real magic happened during the Second World War. After the fall of France, General Charles de Gaulle escaped to London, where he formed the Free French Forces. His famous speech rallying the French people, "À tous les Français," is said to have been written right here, inside this pub. Imagine that — the fate of a nation, drafted between these walls, probably over a half-pint and a pastis.

    Victor's son, Gaston Berlemont, was actually born upstairs in nineteen fourteen, and ran the place until his retirement in nineteen eighty-nine. Gaston was known for cashing cheques even knowing they'd bounce — he was one of Soho's unofficial banks. And rowdy customers were ejected with the greatest courtesy, sometimes even supplied with taxi fare home!

    The literary legends? Brendan Behan wrote large portions of The Quare Fellow here, and Dylan Thomas once left the manuscript of Under Milk Wood under his chair. Just... left it. After one too many halves.

    And here's one more glorious detail. The pub finally changed its name officially to The French House in nineteen eighty-four, after a fire at the real York Minster cathedral. Donations meant for the cathedral started arriving at the pub... and Gaston discovered that cases of claret intended for Him had been turning up at the cathedral for years!

    Today, the house rules still ban music, machines, television, And mobile phones — making it a true haven for conversation. So if you step inside for a half-pint... put your phone away, and drink in the history instead.

15. 15. The Guinea

    The Guinea, 30 Bruton Place, Mayfair, London W1J 6NL

    Take a look at this quiet little mews tucked behind the glamour of Berkeley Square. You'd barely notice it... but this backstreet has been pouring beer for over Six Hundred years.

    An inn has stood on this site since fourteen twenty-three — that's older than Mayfair itself. There has been a pub here for over five hundred years, longer than most of Mayfair, which wasn't developed until the late sixteen hundreds. So this little drinking den was here First, long before the grand townhouses and gentlemen's clubs arrived.

    Now, the pub's name hides a lovely detail. The name "Guinea" refers to a pre-decimalisation currency unit of one old pound and one shilling, much favoured by up-market establishments and professionals. The pub even used to have a sign reading "Ye Olde One Pound One." Very Mayfair, very posh.

    The present building was built in seventeen forty-one and licensed in seventeen fifty-four. Step inside and look for something most people miss... a rare low screen with a door separating two rooms — screens like this were once standard equipment in many London pubs. This is a survival of how Victorian pubs were divided by Class. Working men drank in the public bar. Wealthier customers sat behind the screen in the private bar, where nobody could see them. Most of these screens were ripped out decades ago, but here... time forgot.

    The Guinea has been a Young's pub since eighteen eighty-eight, and that's a connection worth knowing about. Young's Ram Brewery in Wondsworth was claimed to be Britain's oldest brewing site in continuous operation, with a history dating back to the fifteen fifties. So when you drink a Young's ale here, you're tasting a brewing lineage stretching back nearly five centuries.

    But here's where the story gets Really good. In nineteen fifty-two, a tenant by the name of Alistair leased the Guinea from Young's and transformed the business with a very simple idea. He realized that after the Second World War, Americans were beginning to holiday in Europe in big numbers. They'd travel through France and Italy, and by the time they reached British soil, they were desperate for a decent steak. There was no menu and no price list. You were simply given a knife and asked to place a mark on the raw steak to indicate what size you wanted. Can you imagine? You just... scored a line on a slab of Scotch beef and they'd cut it, weigh it, price it, and grill it for you right there.

    The Guinea Grill became the haunt of legends such as Frank Sinatra, Greta Garbo, Bob Hope, and Bing Crosby — some of whom left their autographs on the walls of the gents. You can still find autographs of famous visitors displayed there, including those of Bob Hope, Michael Douglas, and Graham Norton.

    And here's one more gem. On April twenty-first, nineteen twenty-six, Queen Elizabeth the Second was born at seventeen Bruton Street... a mere three-minute walk from this very pub. So raise a glass of cask ale to a backstreet boozer that's older than the neighbourhood, older than the brewery that supplies it, and was pouring pints just around the corner from where the future Queen drew her first breath. Cheers.