Ah, The Lord Hood. Where else would I go for a good Sunday evening sing-along to Ole Blue Eyes? One of the few pubs that has happily maintained a high quality jazz repertoire appears to be going from strength to strength. It acts as the Eastern lynchpin of the London Jazz Festival and serves up a bit of trumpet tootling (or such like) at both lunch and dinner time.

Pubs like this are hard to come by these days (where they ever easy to find, I’m thinking?), and are gems. Shiny, polished ones that Tolkein’s dwarves have salivated over for millennia. Anyhow, Lord Hood is a fantastic venue that deserves its reputation in spades, and has the honour of being run by one of the loveliest landladies in the land.