Slippers are not the done thing in pubs, which may or may not be a shame, depending on the slippers. But were it vaguely acceptable to wear one's slippers to the pub — if everyone were of a certain age and a “regular” — the pubs below are the places where slippers would fit best: snug, warm, lights Dickensian in their fuzzy effervescence.
The Pineapple (51 Leverton Street, NW5 2NX, thepineapplepubnw5.com) is in Kentish Town and no doubt about it, it’s cosy. The Pineapple is attractive not only warm and fuzzy, a place for quiet pints in front of a fire (not especially roaring I’m afraid), but also because it serves decent Thai food — the sort so many pubs used to. Spring rolls, fishcakes, bowls of massaman curry.
A little further north in Hampstead and the Holly Bush (22 Holly Mount, NW3 6SG, hollybushhampstead.co.uk) appears, a London pub that may as well be in some distant village. Centuries old, nooks and crannies abound, there are quiet corners within which to settle, pint in hand. Or sit at the bar under dim lights; hear the thrum of moneyed types bedding in. Snack on Cobble Lane charcuterie, made not far away in Islington. The best tables are, though, usually kept for those eating. A shame, though sensible for business. But just a warning.
The Hare & Billet (1a Hare and Billet Road, Blackheath, SE3 0RB, hareandbillet.com) offers a similar ambiance. We have here a corner pub overlooking Blackheath — the towers of Canary Wharf beyond — an oft-forgotten part of town due to the fact it almost isn’t in town at all. Still, it’s a lovely pub with, by the way, the best roast dinner for miles. One for long Sundays and perfect after a ramble. One more happy thing: there will always be a dog or two.
The French House (49 Dean Street, W1D 5BG, frenchhousesoho.com) is less of a pub for Sundays, save for those who live in Zone 1. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t cosy, on the right day, with the right crowd. Because it really is: to enter on a quiet afternoon is to remove oneself almost completely from the world outside. All is replaced with mindless chatter, Breton cider and a feeling of being at the tail-end of something meaningful. Delightful service too, don't forget.
This is quite true, too, at the Star & Garter (62 Poland Street, W1F 7NX, 020 7287 2635), also in Soho. A diminutive space of dark wood and robust beams, the tables are well used, scuffed but merrily so, and old copper pots hang from the ceiling any which way. It is a small pub, an unassuming refuge, and that’s the draw: one of those busy places for a post-work pint, or the ideal antidote to a busy day of Christmas shopping.
The best pubs are poetic and that is true of the Nag’s Head (53 Kinnerton Street, SW1X 8ED, 020 7235 1135). It is one as much about the landlord, Kevin Moran, a former guardsman who took the place on as a freehold — today much too rare a thing — and who operates the place as some might expect: rigidly. Avoid scrolling on your phone and draping your coat over your seat, though, and here is a beautiful Belgravia bolthole: early Victorian, once a stronghold to the service workers who looked after the rich and today a place bursting with history and charm. All manner of cartoons and memorabilia means there isn’t an inch of space on any wall. Perch there, have a pint of Adnams, chat.
South of the river again. First stop, The Dog House (293 Kennington Road, SE11 6BY, doghouse.pub) in Kennington, a pub which performs in all manner of ways. A visit needn’t be cosy, there are more open areas for frivolity and silliness, but there are quiet corners too, little pockets of space that suit soft winter drinking. Behind the horseshoe-shaped bar, the welcome can be disarming if the time is right and to find a seat by the fire is ideal.
Over in SE15, meanwhile, is The Prince of Peckham (1 Clayton Road, SE15 5JA, princeofpeckham.co.uk). No fire but plenty of warmth. Regular visitors might suppose that it isn’t all that cosy and Thursday to Saturday, this is true. More of a party spot. But any other day and it’s very much a pub, with good drinks — ginger beer on tap for Jameson fans — and food from White Men Can’t Jerk: chicken, chips, macaroni cheese and the like.
Equally new-age but different again is The George (55 Great Portland Street W1W 7LQ, thegeorge.london) JKS’s Fitzrovia boozer that was once home to writers, poets, activists, now a heritage pub of rich wood, dim lights and the gentle patter of life. The food here truly is excellent (a recent visit confirmd just how seriously they take it), while service is secomd to none. Slumping down on a banquette with a Guinness is a pronounced method by which to stave off any cold.
Slippers? You may as well invest in a comfortable pair. In a few years one of these might be familiar environment enough within which to half reside.
