![]() Guinness umbrellas on several tables provided some respite from the scorching sunshine If ever there was a pub which fits perfectly into its community and surroundings this is it, the White Lion is totally at home on the corner of Chatham High Street. If it ever kicks off in the pub the waiters are quick to help her out and if the Taze runs out of a particular drink she lets them have an extra bottle. I was starving when I arrived and although the White Lion doesn’t serve food I managed to get a tasty lunch from the restaurant across the street and Krista says they’re great neighbours. ![]() There is a smoking area, with seating and a screen, at the back of the pub but no-one used it while I was in, preferring instead to sit out front The music was played from, and selected, behind the bar and was pumped out at a decent level while I was in.Īlthough his sister does work here, the barman was, by his own admission, not really supposed to be working but was happy filling in and did a decent enough job. Clearly this is a boozer where accidents can happen. ![]() There was a hand-written sign saying the urinal on the right should not be used but the one on the left leaks like a sieveīack inside there were two locals, looking like dodgy twins, as each was wearing a medical boot on a different leg. She disappeared upstairs to wash his bloodied shirt and he took a seat out front to share his story with anyone who’d listen and show them his caved in head. The result was a gaping gash on the back of his head which Krista reckoned needed stitching but he said he’d survive. We were briefly joined by the most tattooed person I’ve ever seen and next in was a topless punter carrying a blood-soaked shirt who apologised for his state of dress but said he had been ‘jumped’ after leaving the pub the night before. Perhaps the atrocious smell had left me looking pale as Krista asked: “You alright babe?” There is a large cordoned off area at the front of the pub with plenty of picnic tables from which to watch the passing traffic There is a tatty area out back, with another screen, stacked chairs and cardboard packaging, which I visited to get some fresh air before returning to the bar. Over the one on the right there’s a sign which reads ‘not in use’, whether this is a mistake or a joke I’m not sure but the left one leaks like a sieve and the whole place stinks to high heaven as a result. There’s even a CCTV camera in the gents, although it doesn’t show on the screen behind the bar - although they could do with taking a look at it as there’s a serious problem with the urinals. There is a mixture of tartans used across the furniture and carpets and an incredibly high ceiling, with at least nine CCTV cameras in just the bar. This is a £9.95 fishbowl, currently made with VKs, although once the stock is used up Krista plans to switch the ingredient list to WKDsĪs well as the pool table there’s a space which looks as if it once contained a dartboard, four large TV screens and a large electronic fruit machine. My food arrived so I unpacked it on the bar, as is the custom, while Krista and her helper, who’d finished eating and had taken an extended fag break, decided to shoot some pool. Having paid £9.95 for the privilege and carefully carried this large orange monstrosity out front for some reason neither she, nor her mate, touched a drop. The Fosters of the ale world, Sharp’s Brewery claims 4% Doom Bar is Britain’s best-selling cask and bottled aleīut bizarre lager naming conventions paled into insignificance as one young woman came in just a few minutes past midday to order a fish bowl. I selected Staropramen, although the barman calls it ‘strap on’ as he struggles to pronounce his Rs and it’s next to the John Smiths (known as ‘Johnnie’) at the pumps. I decided if you can’t beat them… and, despite being advised about three nearby chicken shops, popped over the road to the Taze Restaurant to order my lunch.īeardy was back behind the bar again when I returned and I decided my Greek salad and chicken shish would go better with lager. Decorated in the traditional Craft Union colours, the front of the pub faces The Brook and Chatham High Street The pretend barman immediately joined her and the two began munching in unison - this I realised was Krista. Whilst he was still explaining the pub has never served food a woman came and sat on the stool alongside me and unpacked two lunches.
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