I see this wonderful old pub every working day as it is in the same street as my place of work. This was where my colleagues and I had our working lunch yesterday—in the first-floor room, just below whose windows the sign is swinging in the strong numbing winds that chap ungloved hands in minutes. In the sixteenth century a notable merchant's house—known as "Whittington's Palace, but not having anything to do with the pantomime Lord Mayor or his cat—stood on this spot. It was ornately decorated with carvings of animals and foliage and its courtyard was open to the street, but it was demolished in 1801. What I wouldn't do to bring it back, although the more modest building you see above—with its painted embellishments, cosy interior, refreshing beer and heartening food—is far from being an unworthy successor, making a valiant stand against the relative drabness of the surrounding office blocks. Now, who's for steak and chips and a cool draught of something yeasty?
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