PUBSPY'S VIEW

“Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk.


“That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.”


The wise words of Ernest Hemingway chalked behind the bar at The Gipsy Hill Tavern seem to have been taken a little too literally by this pub.


I’d met up with my wonderful friend for a desperately needed bitch about life – which goes hand in hand with wine and vodka.


Braving the drizzle, we headed for shelter under the enormous red Pimm’s canapé in the vast beer garden and came face to face with a disaster zone of madness.


Either a squiffy punter who fancies himself a builder, or maybe Irish landlord Frank, had vowed to transform the garden into a tropical paradise when they were utterly wasted – and then took Hemingway’s pearls of wisdom to heart.


With exotic trees, piles of firewood, work-in-progress signs, barriers and benches all stacked high in a chaotic mess, it is probably safe to say this project has been abandoned.


Or maybe no-one has been sober long enough to finish it.


Whatever it is, I love the fact you don’t know what’s going to happen next here.


Other than the calamity region, which actually adds a splash of colour, there are plenty of big benches in the garden and the lovely, down-to-earth landlady came and turned on all the pretty outdoor lights when it got dark.


With Crystal Palace’s answer to the Eiffel Tower glowing red above us, fake lilies, a sweet little frog fountain who’s lost one leg and a stone squirrel eavesdropping on our conversation, there’s plenty to look at in this quirky pub.


My friend headed back inside to get another round (large white wine, vodka and cranberry juice and a bottle of Diet Coke for a total of £9.80).


Literally every other drinker at the bar had gone for a pint of cider or lager – they don’t mess around here.


And why would you avert from the usual when a pint of Strongbow is just £2.80?


I hear The Gipsy Hill Tavern is home to an Irish/London curling team, and it’s clear there’s always a good vibe about the place.


The punters trust each other blindly – perhaps a little too much for south-east London.


One of these naive men had wrapped a bundle of cash and his iPad up in a copy of The Daily Mail and happily left it all on the bar when he went for a pee.


Innocently reaching for the paper, my friend got the shock of her life to see his expensive possessions, centre spread.


“You trying to nick my stuff?” he joked when he caught her, red-handed.


What could have turned ugly at a less friendly, warm pub was nothing but a lark.


Unfortunately, we hadn’t walked in during one of their live music events – but I’m itching to go along and dance the night away to Barry Owen on August 18.


The Olympics is also screening inside so you don’t have to miss out on any of the action when you fancy a pint.


My mate and I had gone out to moan about everything – but we left feeling a lot happier about life.


Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the hilarious disaster zone in the garden, but I think it was more likely down to the positive and welcoming people.


Address: The Gipsy Hill Tavern, 79 Gipsy Hill Road, Gipsy Hill, SE19 1QH


Decor: *** (colourful flags everywhere, lush leather couches, a little like a village hall)


Drink: *** (usual suspects)


Price: **** (kind on the wallet)


Atmosphere: **** (great local pub with honest regulars)


Staff: **** (helpful and pleasant)