Rotherhithe pubs

Once a very tatty boozer, its rear wooden terrace threatening to slide into the Thames, this pub has now been bought by the ever-growing Samuel Smith’s empire. The refit, even by their own high standards, has been exquisite. The ground floor has been split into several distinct areas by wooden dividing walls, each with a curiously tiny door leading to the next, while round the back of the bar there is a further little area and a balcony overlooking the river. Upstairs is a no smoking lounge decked out in the manner of a Georgian drawing room, all big chairs and fancy fittings, with fantastic views back along the Thames to Tower Bridge and the City’s clustered skyscrapers. Laid back staff, no TV distractions and a varied, cheerful crowd provide a vibrant atmosphere and plenty of back-chat. The pub has managed to keep many of its locals while broadening its appeal, and the mix is a rewarding one. It is a perfect place to sit watching the sun sink and darkness stretch across the river. London kids seem to be reverting to the good old days of Fagin and his gang, only with less charm and wit, and more bling and brawn. Blame it on the weather, maybe - it was, admittedly, the second sunny day in a row, and we all know that hot weather boils the brains of British males to mush, leading to an explosion of testosterone and an onslaught of territorial pissing. Wandering around some of Rotherhithe's less salubrious byways, I came across a gang of kids aged 8-14, all standing on a garage roof in their designer wear. They fanned out to line the front of the garage, and started throwing acorns at me. I stopped, turned, stared at them. They let up throwing acorns to glare back. I shrugged and walked on, and they went back to throwing acorns. Later, in the Blacksmiths, a kid walked in who seemed to know the barstaff, saying he had just been kicked in the head and could he have a glass of water. I thought no more of it, ordered a drink and some food, and set to happily eating. Then, all of a sudden, three kids march into the pub, head for the kid drinking water, and proceed to try to beat him up. In the pub. In front of everyone. I couldn't believe the cheek, let alone the gross stupidity. A lot of credit is due to the punters, who stuck up a fuss immediately and threw the three kids out, and kept out the gang of twenty or so more who were hanging about outside, which is hardly the Daily Mail's image of Britons cowering in terror as kids who 'know their rights' smash up everything and everyone, but even so, the combination of events barely thirty minutes apart bothers me. Like everyone else, I have the slightly queasy feeling that socially everything is going deeply wrong, and suspect that those in charge, as well as the general public themselves, lack the resolve to make the sacrifices that would be involved in sorting this out. And so… the police never turned up, the gang eventually dispersed and I went on eating my dinner: another Great British fudge in the making. The pub itself? Fullers, with the usual Fullers commitment to real ales and a traditional pub atmosphere, somewhat sadly stripped of its furnishings and gone all dark wood minimalism, but with a slightly surreal female-only compliment of Thai barstaff, and a truly excellent spread of Thai food. A very friendly place, TV and pool table thrown in, and with outside tables too should you wish to enjoy Rotherhithe's teen crimewave from an intimate angle. There's a Hilton hotel down the road (very cheekily calling itself 'The Hilton Docklands', even though it's on the wrong side of the river) and God only knows what the guests think of it all. They probably never leave the hotel compound. Batten down the hatches - summer's coming. Looking for all the world like something built from the leftovers of a council estate, I must admit to having second thoughts before finally entering The Clipper. The acorn-throwing youths and the attempted assault in the Blacksmiths Arms just down the road were still weighing on my mind. It seems in Rotherhithe, Southeast London has found its spiritual Canning Town, a Varanasi of yobbery, and the streets were throbbing with all kinds of malcontent. My caution concerning the pub proved ill-founded, however, as the management have tried extremely hard to provide a relaxed, convivial and charming place. The deeply traditional appearance includes an old cosy carpet, wooden walls and a long bar, with the front dedicated to the casual drinker, and the back more attuned to diners. While the menu provides no gastronomic thrills, it's good solid stuff, and the beer selection is likewise limited but not appalling, and the staff will do cocktails on request if that's the sort of thing you like to wave around your face in Rotherhithe. There's tables outside by the road if you want to watch CSI being played out for real, and a decent beer garden at the back if you don't. The laid-back vibe, friendly bar staff and all-round effort put in to making this a great place have paid off, the result being a good but unpretentious pub. Rather off the beaten track, but worth finding, this 17th century pub was built at the end of the jetty from where the Mayflower took the Founding Fathers to America. Boasting thick original beams supporting the superstructure, original woodwork and two low, cosy bar areas, it certainly looks the part, and is a wonderful place to while away lazy Sunday hours. One of its most attractive features is the jetty jutting out over the water, where you can sit supping ale while the Thames slaps and washes about just under your feet. Across the water, in the fading evening light, all the windows of the luxury apartment developments in Wapping beam invitingly. When I first came here back in 1993, the whole riverfront east of Tower Bridge was a line of abandoned, crumbling warehouses, only ever used as sets for crime thrillers, channel 4 documentaries about drugs and pop videos. Now they are far more useless. In the same stretch of time, the Mayflower hasn't changed at all, and I suspect that's the way it will long continue. The best way to get here is to walk along the Thames path from Tower Bridge, an interesting journey in itself, affording great views of the City, docklands and the new developments inbetween. Getting a 400 year old pub with Greene King bitters and a fabulous jetty at the end is a pretty fine reward for your efforts.

---

All content © Random Pub Finder 2001-2012, website development by Doogal