The High House, in the Cellar Bar as it was known back in the day, quite an atmosphere, so thick with the smell of weed you could cut it with a knife. Clarkson was often in there.
Later on it was the Mail Coach, it was quite funny watching the drunks attempt to leave through the revolving doors and then reappear looking bemused.
Turf, followed by the Dickens was the regular routine, sometimes with an earlier snifter in the Charter Arms. But my local was the New Broom. The day after four of Sam Smiths Old Brewery Bitter was always a challenging and volatile experience.
