DECOR *** (invitingly warm) DRINK XXX (Good lagers, but limited ales) PRICE ** (friendly for students but not workers) ATMOSPHERE *** (tourists by day, students by night) STAFF ** (disorganised and slow)
IF YOU are reading this now, breathe a sigh of relief. Aliens haven’t invaded, the earth hasn’t opened up and swallowed us whole and the only rapture felt was waking up on New Year’s Day realising there’s now only three more years left of the coalition Government.
That’s right, the Mayans and Hollywood were wrong. The predicted apocalypse didn’t happen after all.
However, my biblical hangover did and yet again I start the year vowing to ditch the demon drink, curb the carbs and pursue more physically and intellectually enriching past times, such as sweating in a zumba class or reading 19th century love poetry.
Then again, if the sun worshipping natives have made a wee miscalculation and the end of the world is actually a week on Friday, the best place to ride it out would be the pub.
Judgement day may come sooner than your pint at Greenwich’s long-time student boozer the Admiral Hardy, where I waited at the bar for almost 15 minutes before getting served.
However, it wasn’t because of the throngs of punters thirsty for a bit of hair of the dog after a week of Christmas and New Year excess. If only.
Either I should have gone to Specsavers or the barman was simply nowhere to be found.
At a loss, I turned to the customers sat at the table nearest to the counter for help.
They gave an apathetic shrug and continued munching on their chunky cheese sandwich and fish and chips.
He eventually emerged from the kitchen carrying plates of piping hot food, which he served to a group of hungry tourists before blanking me and returning to his new job as a kitchen assistant.
They may be understaffed but a small acknowledgement of my presence would have been enough.
A less patient punter may have walked out the door.
After waiting long enough to brew my own tipple using the contents of my cheesy socks, I was served a pint of Belgian blond beer Steen Brugge (£4.75).
As crisp and refreshing as it was, the hefty price tag scuppered my New Year resolution to adopt the austerity measures self-imposed after haemorrhaging wonga over the festive period.
There are slightly cheaper lagers at around the £3.50 mark, including Amstel and Fosters, as well as Adnams ale, but it will still burn a sizeable hole in your wallet and unless you are an impoverished student, you are unlikely to benefit from the daily drinks deals.
Fortunately, unlike many scuzzy student dives, a lot of effort has clearly gone into making the place a warm and welcoming spot for all, no matter what your employment status.
Plush green leather benches and chairs, fresh flowers on each table and a roaring open fire make it an inviting boozer to drink in.
But despite an extra log being thrown on the fire, I still felt a nip in the air.
So, if the world does end while you are here, make sure you find a warmly dressed student to cuddle up to. He may even buy you a cheap pint.
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